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A small giggle breaks free, and I just shake my head. “I’ll pick a lane. Hopefully rat-free. Why did you say that to Sarah?”
“I say a lot of things, Princess.”
Now, I’m not laughing. He knows he’s charming. He knows he can make people forget things. But I’m not about to let him charm me. Any more than he has. He irritates me too. With all the princess crap. With all the questions and poking his nose in things. With his judgments and bossiness and—
“You telling her not to mention me, to pretend they haven’t seen me?”
He throws me a wide-eyed glance. “Look, I told you, rat man’s been asking for you. Someone called me today asking about an Audi.”
I suck in a sharp breath. It’s not like I forgot there are questionable people looking for me, and that includes my parents. Problem is, I don’t know if his rat man and the person calling are criminals or people hired by my parents, my mom.
Just like that, I’m boxed again. The air’s no longer wild and free and full of promise. It’s cool and controlled and slightly stale.
“I’m . . . I’m not a criminal. But I also don’t like you poking around and taking control.”
“Well, Princess, maybe if you talked to me, I’d understand.”
“And now, you involved Dakota and Sarah and whoever else in all this.” I close my fists, and the pastries squish some more.
He taps his fingers on the wheel. “Fuck, those smell real good. You’re mangling them, but when you do…”
“Mack.”
“Right, right. Just . . . talk to me.” Mr. Personable drops away, and his jaw tightens. “I’m not a moron. And I can take care of things. I can help. I also won’t let anyone hurt you. I know how I come across, but I will fuckin’ kill for those I care about.”
Heat blooms inside me.
“Against the odds, I care, okay?”
Those words from him are so soft and bare that they wrap around me, cracking my bones a little.
The trees rise as the road becomes dirt, and then we’re in an open space at the most beautiful lake I’ve seen.
There’s a small wooden jetty, and in a wide clearing, set back, is a big cabin. Mack’s.
Christine sits outside looking like an angel of a ride instead of the demon I know her to be. And on the other side of the lake, in the distance, mountains rise.
Mack pulls up next to Christine, switches off the motor, and turns to me.
“I didn’t rob a bank. I didn’t do anything wrong.” This is true. I turned over what I saw, but maybe they gave up, and I know I used my card in another town to get cash, but not for a little while. So . . .
I don’t want to turn him into a full-on protector for no good reason.
At least, I hope it’s no good reason.
My mother is worse than any mafia, criminal gangs, and dirty politicians, anyway.
“But . . . you’re going to think I’m an idiot.”
“Try me.”
“My parents.”
Shame heats my cheeks, and I go to hug the croissants, but Mack takes the bag from me. “They’ve been tortured enough.”
He doesn’t look at me like I’m weird or an idiot. He’s just waiting.
So, I study my hands with short, unmanicured nails. My mother would hate them.
