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“I’m a big girl,” I sniped, finally meeting his stare. “I can take care of myself.”
“You were in a bar, alone and drunk… not exactly what I call taking care of yourself.”
Glancing away, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, my eyes shuttering at his words. There was so much anger in his voice. But what I couldn’t figure out was his motivation.
“I should take you home,” he said, and I wondered if he noticed I flinched at that word.
Home.
I still didn’t know how to truly feel about that.
Twisting around to him, I laid my head against the seat and said, “Just a little while longer, please.”
“Peyton…” He let out a heavy sigh.
“Please.”
“Ten minutes.” His lips thinned with disapproval, a contrast to the small smile gracing my lips.
“Thank you.”
