I doubt his parents would have expected him to come and see me. My parents—once Weston’s cruelty to me, his younger cousin, had become apparent—had kept us apart. My aunt and uncle were alright, though even at my mom’s funeral, had refused to meet my eye. They knew. They’d seen the bruises. Huh, I think I’d been his first punching bag.
I’ve got red hair and to my shame, the volatile temper that it’s known for going with it, but today I’m working hard keeping that under wraps. I don’t dare do anything he might think threatening, even raise my voice. I know my limitations. He’s too big for me to throw out. A gun, taser or pepper spray would be handy right now, but I don’t possess anything of the sort. Agreeing to go to dinner with him is last on my list of things I’d like to do, but the attractive point about his statement is he’d no longer be here in my house. Once I lock up, I’ll refuse to let him back inside.
“Come on,” he cajoles, and winks—a gesture totally at odds with what I know of his character. “Brook’s Diner is still open, isn’t it?”
While I’ve no desire to eat with him, at least one of my aims would be satisfied—he wouldn’t be breathing my air. Brook’s is always crowded, so I won’t be alone with him. Maybe the sheriff or his deputy would be eating there. Or someone who’d be suspicious seeing us together, and check that I was alright.
“That’s a great idea.” I try to sound enthusiastic. And, as it’s just a mom-and-pop place, I don’t need to leave him alone while I get dressed, what I’m wearing now would do. While there’s not a lot for him to steal here, I don’t want him rummaging through my things. “I can come as I am.”
“You can drive,” he tells me.
“Why don’t you follow me?” After we’ve eaten he can take off to wherever he’s living afterward.
His face darkens, sending a shiver through me, making my self-preservation instinct kick in. Nope, I don’t want to upset him. I learned that as a child. Weston’s fists can be pretty persuasive.
“I came by cab,” he informs me. “Ain’t got no transport.”
I bite my tongue. When you’re a scrap of a thing like myself, you don’t tell an ex-professional wrestler he can take a hike, or summon another taxi to take him back to whatever rock he’d crawled out of.
The sooner we get to eat, the faster he’ll be gone. I don’t delay, pausing only to check Caspar’s water bowl is topped up. After patting my mom’s faithful dog on the head and telling him to be a good boy, I pick up the keys to my father’s truck.
I’m not convinced this is wise, but can’t see what other choice I have. “Let’s go then.”
Swigging back the remnants of his coffee, Weston looks at me and smirks, as though he realises why I’m being so compliant, that even after all these years, I know he’s a threat. Flexing his muscles, he lumbers over and snatches the keys out of my hand. “I’ll drive.”
Under my breath I count to ten. He wouldn’t hurt me like he had when I was a child, would he? My arm still aches in cold weather from where he’d deliberately broken it. But I don’t want to test my theory. The vibes I’m getting from this man are not friendly.
He wants something. But what? I wish he’d just come out with it.
The truck’s big, but Weston still looks ridiculous as he pushes the seat back as far as it can go, and I lean into the passenger side so his muscular arm doesn’t touch me when he puts it into gear.
Luckily, Brook’s Diner is only a couple of miles down the road, so I grit my teeth and don’t comment when he drives too fast. Maybe we’ll get pulled over and I can tell the cop he’s kidnapping me.
But I have no such luck. We arrive, park, and walk inside. Once seated, we’re given menus. Wanting to keep a clear head, I refuse the alcoholic drink he offers to buy me, sticking to soda. Weston does the opposite, and he’s on his second beer by the time we’ve ordered.
He goes for steak, while I basically point at a chicken salad. With no appetite under the circumstances, I can’t manage much more.
He spends his time leering at the other customers. When he pays attention to me, he smirks, an expression I long to wipe off his face. It’s as if he knows something I don’t.
As I sit, I’m wondering how soon I can get rid of him. Maybe when the meals over I can drop him somewhere instead of taking him home. He’s got my keys. Would an excuse I left my wallet in the car work? I could take off and leave him here. Or, I could say I’ve got to take a bathroom break and disappear.
A voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Hey, Cat. We don’t often see you.” Rosa, a waitress I’ve spoken to on a few occasions, stops by my side.
When my mom was dying, I spent all my time with her. I’ve only recently started to venture out of the house. Most of my childhood friends have moved away, like me, preferring city life. I vaguely remember Rosa from school, but she was a year or two ahead.
Seeing her eyes flicking warily at my companion and not wanting her to think I’ve poor taste in men, I sigh. “Rosa, this is my cousin, Weston.”
Weston raises his eyes from her boobs, and gives a sly smile as they settle on her face. I don’t miss Rosa’s slight shudder, though good waitress as she is, she covers it quickly.
“That’s nice. You could do with some family around you.”
I probably could, but Weston isn’t the one that I want. For a second I need to suppress my sadness that my parents have gone.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Another beer,” Weston says, tapping the table.
He’s going to get drunk if he doesn’t watch out. I narrow my eyes, choking back the comment that normally I’d make. I can’t afford to make him angry. What do I know? Man his size could have hollow legs. Maybe he’ll drink so much I can sneak off and speak to Rosa? She could ring the cops. As he’s an ex-convict they would be on my side, wouldn’t they?
With a plan in mind, I decide to follow it. Our meal is done, his plate cleared, mine barely touched. I pick up my bag.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom.”
“Woman, you can hold it. You’re five minutes from home. You’re still as fuckin’ weak as you were when you were a child.”
I could plea that I can’t, but I feel my lips set stubbornly. I’ll show you weak. He’s challenged me, and you don’t do that with a red-headed woman.
With another of his smirks, he pushes the bill my way. Picking my battles, I roll my eyes and pay. It’s not much, but more than I wanted to waste on him. Hopefully, now he’s fed, he’ll leave me alone.
“Shall I call you a taxi?” I offer, a little sweetly. See? I can be a thoughtful cousin.
His eyes suddenly sharpen. “What the fuck for? I’m coming back with you. I’m staying at your place tonight.”
Oh no you’re not. “Weston.” I start to protest, quickly looking around, but Rosa must be on a break, and there’s no one I know here. It would take too long to explain why I’d prefer my relative arrested than return to my home, and God knows what he’d do while I was doing so. He’d smash the place up, starting with myself. I might have a temper, but it’s nothing compared to his when roused. “Weston,” I start again in a hiss. “It wouldn’t be right. I’m a single woman.”