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“Where is all your stuff? In the trunk?”
“Oh yeah. And there’s some in the back seat.” She fumbled as she searched through her handbag for her keys.
Wally nearly fell out of her bag, but she managed to stuff him back in.
“Hey. Easy. It’s okay. Give me your keys and I’ll take care of everything.”
She stared at him as she handed her keys over. “Who are you?”
He frowned. “I’m Hack. Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit pale to me.” He unlocked Buttercup but didn’t open the door.
“I’m always pale.” And now she sounded like a lunatic. “You just . . . you’re being really nice to me.”
He suddenly scowled. “Who hasn’t been nice to you?”
Whoa. Why was he so upset?
“No one.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You will tell me if anyone isn’t nice to you.”
That was a definite command.
“So you can do what?” Her heart pounded, waiting for his answer.
His eyes darkened. “I have access to drugs and sharp implements. I’ll make them hurt.”
“That is so sexy.”
They stared at each other for a moment before he shook his head and turned his head away. “Fuck, what am I doing?”
“Uh, getting my stuff from my car. Here, I’ll help.”
She opened the door closest to her, cringing as some fast-food wrappers fell out.
Whoops.
After picking them up, she shoved the garbage back into the car. “You know what . . . why don’t I get my stuff and you bring your truck over? It’s not necessary to bring all of it anyway, right?”
Hack just gave her a look. “Yeah, that’s not happening. And we should bring it all. Just in case.”
A cold wind whipped through the parking lot and she shivered again, her teeth chattering.
“Let’s get you in my truck. I’ll get your stuff.” He nodded over at a big black truck that was parked close by.
She wrapped his jacket more firmly around her, letting his scent settle her. It was a little spicy and a little sweet. Nothing she could actually name.
But delicious anyway.
He started the truck up from a fob on his key ring.
“Ooh, that’s nice,” she said. “Please tell me it has heated seats. I will get in there and never want to leave. I could die happy sitting on heated seats.”
He gave her an amused look. “No dying in my truck. It’s bad for my rep.”
“As a bad-ass motorcycle dude? I thought it would do your rep some good.”
“As a doctor.”
