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“I didn’t say you were, but a breathalyzer would.”
She came to an abrupt halt.
“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” he said.
“You were drinking, too.”
“I had one beer.” He looked at his watch. “An hour ago.”
He held out his hand and waited. After a moment of hesitation, she tossed her keys to him and walked to the passenger side. While he reached for the driver’s side door, she looked at him over the bed of the truck.
“I didn’t need you to help me.”
“I don’t recall doing any rescuing,” he agreed. He hid a grin by getting in the truck.
She opened her door and glared at him through the cab. “Rescuing?”
“Bad word choice, sorry.”
After a moment, she stated, “I can take care of myself.”
“Never said you couldn’t.”
She slammed the door, and Justin decided it was best to remain silent as he started the truck and shifted into gear.
“Where we headed?” he remembered to ask.
“Ridgewood subdivision.” She didn’t add another word beyond that and he figured the less personal they got the better.
About halfway to her house, he saw her look at him from the corner of his eye. He kept his gaze fixed on the road until she resumed her sullen stare out the windshield, complete with arms crossed resentfully over her chest.
He heard a sigh.
“Thank you.”
The soft words were barely discernable and when he realized what she’d said, guilt slammed into his chest. She thanked him now, but when she found out he’d fired her…
“I didn’t do anything, remember? And you’re going to want to ice that hand.”
Marley flexed her fingers as he approached an intersection. Her hand did hurt. More than she would’ve thought. Realizing he’d need directions, she told him to turn right at the same time he flipped the right turn signal on.
After she’d directed him to her house, something occurred to her. “How are you going to get back to your Jeep?”
“I’ll call a cab.”
He walked with her up the front porch steps. She suddenly had a very vivid recall of that kiss in the trailer and had just enough to drink that she would admit to wanting a repeat. Not to him, of course. It was bad enough to realize it herself.
She reached to unlock the door and was surprised when it swung open at the touch of her hand. Before she could consider the implications of the unlocked, unlatched door, Justin pushed past her.
“Anyone else home?” he asked quietly over his shoulder.
Marley frowned at his back. “It’s just me and Nate—but his truck’s not here.”
“Stay behind me,” he ordered when she tried to walk past.
Irritation flared at the way he took command. Hadn’t she just told him she could take care of herself? He surveyed the empty living room and then moved into the kitchen.
Marley watched him go before walking over to the closet. Inside, she reached up to the overhead shelf, feeling for and locating her dad’s Glock pistol. She silently conceded she probably wouldn’t be so calm if Justin wasn’t here—but she’d never tell him that, either.
