“Because Jerry said he wants us to grab takeout and do something like watch a movie.”
Pausing with one arm out of my wet suit, my jaw unhinged. He didn’t say that. It was his body, but those weren’t his words. “Who are you? Jerry? Takeout and a movie? What gives? This isn’t you. This isn’t the guy who complimented me on my lack of neediness.”
“Fine. I want to tie you up and bury my face between your legs. Better?”
I coughed a laugh and glanced around to see how many people were in earshot. “You said you were the guy who made sure no one ever tied me up.” Pulling my other arm out of my wet suit, I gave him a lifted eyebrow in a question of his own words and new intentions.
“I’m trying really hard to be…” his lips twisted “…amicable and persuasive.”
Pushing the wet suit down to my hips, I glanced up. “Amicable? What exactly is the alternative to you being amicable with me?”
He squinted against the sun, peering over my shoulder for a few moments. “You’re the straight-A student. You tell me, what’s the opposite of amicable?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I trapped my lip between my teeth until he returned his focus to me. “Unfriendly. Hostile. Are you suggesting if I don’t go home with you now, things will get unfriendly? Hostile?”
“Affirmative.”
“Go home, Wylder. I’ll be home later … or tomorrow.” I bent down and kissed Jerry on the head. “Daddy’s a little cray cray tonight, isn’t he?”
“I’ll wait.”
“Wait for what?” I trudged through the sand to my bag and retrieved my water, taking a long swig.
“You.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Go home and wait for me.” I shoved my water bottle back into my bag and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer until he gave me his mouth for a quick kiss. “Love you. I’ll text you if I end up staying at Aubrey’s.” I turned, heading back to my board while righting the sleeves of my wet suit and worming my arms back into it.
After another hour of surfing, we headed to my Jeep, giggling, and wiped out from a full Saturday at the beach.
“Whoa … stalker much?” Missy nodded to Slade’s black Volvo parked on the other side of my Jeep.
“Something’s up. This isn’t him.” I shook my head.
“Here. We’ve got it.” Missy nodded to my board.
I propped it against the Jeep and peeled my wet suit off. Slipping on my sweatshirt, I made my way to his window.
He rolled it down. “Get in. Let one of your friends take your Jeep.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the door. “What aren’t you telling me?” Genuine concern delivered my words.
“Get in, Livy.”
“I’m not getting in unless you give me a reason to get in.”
He rubbed his temples then dropped his hands to the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. “I’ll give you two questions. You can ask me two things … anything … and I’ll give you an honest answer.”
Desperate Wylder. He took lives. That was his job. He lived in a haunted house. He feared nothing. So why could I feel his desperation?
“Fine. But you answer one right now.”
He turned his head toward me.
“Why are you so desperate for me to come with you right now?”
“Because I feel an intense need to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Is that your second and last question?”
Gah! I had a million questions for him. No … I didn’t want it to be my last question, yet I wanted to know why I needed his protection. “You’re scaring me.”
“Then get in the car.”
Pushing out a forceful breath, I stood straight and walked around to Missy and Kara, helping them finish securing the boards on top of the Jeep. “I need to go with Slade. Can you take my Jeep? Will you forgive me for skipping out tonight?”
“What? Are you serious?” Missy asked, hopping down from the back bumper and unzipping her wet suit.
“What’s up?” Kara added.
“It’s …” I rubbed my lips together, searching for something that made sense, knowing it was going to be a lie. I hated lying to my friends. “Slade lost a friend.”
“What? Oh my god!” Missy covered her mouth. “That’s awful.”
“Dude …” Kara’s eyes widened. “He told you he lost a friend, and you went back to surfing?”
“He didn’t tell me what happened. He just asked me to come home. I thought he was being a little possessive of my time since he wouldn’t tell me why.”
Missy brushed past me.
“Where are you going?” I followed her.
“I want to give him my condolences.”
“No—”
Too late.
She knocked on his window. He rolled it down again.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.”
“Yeah,” Kara added.
I bit my lips together, eyes wide.
Slade’s gaze stayed on me for several seconds before flitting to Kara and Missy. “Thanks.”
“Let us know if you need anything. We’ll get your Jeep back to you in the morning.” Missy hugged me.
“Thanks,” I released her and hugged Kara.
Grabbing my bag, I climbed into Slade’s SUV.
“Who died?” he asked, pulling out of the lot.
“Your friend.”
“You didn’t believe I had friends.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
I would have laughed, but he was taking me away from my Saturday night plans with my friends because he feared for my safety, but I had no idea why. And maybe he knew that. Maybe he knew I wouldn’t get far enough to ask the real questions. Maybe it was all made up.
But why?
So I asked. I’d get more questions with my bartering skills. “Why do you feel an insane need to protect me? And yes, this is my second question.”
“Because I love you.”
“That’s …” I felt so damn conflicted. Those words coming out of his mouth rendered me speechless every time, but it wasn’t the real answer.
“I don’t like this game,” I murmured, staring out the side window.
“Neither do I,” he whispered. I didn’t think he meant for me to hear it, but I did.
The second he stopped the vehicle in the driveway, I tried to hop out, but he grabbed my arm. “I go first.”
“You go first where?”
He opened his door. “Everywhere.”
On a huff, I followed him and Jericho to the back door. He unlocked the door and reached behind him as he opened it slowly. His hand wrapped around a gun that he slid out of the waist of his jeans.
What the hell …
He had a gun. I knew he had many weapons, but never on him. I held in my gasp, my string of questions, and my fear as he and Jericho stepped inside. I slinked behind them, holding my breath. He turned and held up his hand for me to stay.
Jericho led the way, and they scoped out the main floor before going upstairs while I remained cemented to my spot just inside the back door.
“We’re good,” he said as he reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked his gun back into his waistband. Not just his waistband … I narrowed my eyes. He had a holster. This wall in my brain kept him separated from his profession.