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“Just know that I have zero problem following you to make sure you arrive safely at your destination.”
I grit my teeth. When it becomes apparent that he wasn’t joking around, I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “I’m going to Slap Shotz.”
“Why?”
“None of your business.”
“Tell me why.” His voice deepens.
When a vehicle slows behind him, Wolf sticks his hand out the window and waves the car by.
“Why are you heading to the bar?” he asks again.
I grind to a halt for a second time in as many minutes and glare. Not that it does a damn bit of good.
“Because I have an interview.”
“You’re looking for a job?” His brow furrows as concern fills his expression. “Do you need money?”
As if he doesn’t know.
The question is like a slap to my face, and my cheeks flood with heat. “That’s also none of your damn business.”
“I’m not taking off, Fallyn. So, you can get in the car, or I’ll just follow you to the bar. It’s your choice.”
We stare for a handful of seconds before a growl leaves my lips, and I stomp to the sleek vehicle. For some unknown reason, he refuses to leave me alone. The quickest way to get rid of this guy is to get in the car and endure the five-minute ride downtown.
I jerk the handle before popping open the door and sliding onto the buttery soft leather. Instead of looking at him, I stare straight ahead out the windshield.
He shifts the gear as we pick up speed. “Why are you walking?”
“Because I didn’t want to spend money on a ride.”
He glances at me as if thrown off by the response. “You don’t have your license?”
“No.”
He shifts the gear into third. “Why not?”
“Are we really going to play a game of fifty questions?”
He flicks a glance at me and raises his brow. “If that’s what it takes to get the information I want, then yes.”
A frustrated sigh escapes from me. This isn’t a conversation I want to have with him, of all people. “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, it does.” A heavy silence blankets us before he finally ventures, “Is it because of the accident?”
I turn away and press my forehead against the cool glass of the passenger side window. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
The city blocks disappear as his tires eat up the asphalt, and we enter downtown.
“I would hate to be the reason anything else was taken from you,” he murmurs.
The soft comment arrows to the heart of me, and even though it pisses me off, hot tears prick the backs of my eyes. It takes effort to blink them away.
“You have no idea just how much was stolen,” I snap, barely able to keep the anger from quivering in my tone.
Chapter 10
