Page 18

Chapter 18

April

I’m in my “I don’t give a fuck” era.

If he thinks I don’t notice the way he looks at me, but then lies to my face about it, he can kiss my ass.

Maybe I’ll just walk around this tiny cabin for the next twenty four hours completely naked.

I’ll sit on his face while he sleeps.

That’ll teach him.

Damn... What am I doing? Torturing Ford won’t change anything. Forcing him into something he isn’t comfortable with…that makes me no better than those assholes who took me.

“Ford? I’m sorry. That wasn’t right for me to do that.” I’m such an idiot. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see me?”

He chuckles from behind the wall. “I highly doubt that will ever happen. I’m taking that memory to the grave with me.”

Well, that makes my cheeks twitch with a grin.

I guess he isn’t as upset as I thought.

Doesn’t stop me from feeling a little shitty though.

As tempting as it is to ask him to help me rinse again, I decide against it. My short hair is easy to dab off, then I wrap myself with a towel.

I love it, soft, fluffy, and huge enough to cover me like a toga.

If the circumstances hadn’t been so fucked up for me to be here, it’d almost be a bit of a vacation.

Except I’m not.

Outside of this snug little cabin, my life is in shambles.

And tomorrow I have to face it.

The last of the water gurgles out of the drain before I step around the small wall dividing the room.

He’s pulled a variety of food out and has it sitting on the mattress. “Wasn’t sure what you felt like for your last supper here.” His lopsided smile doesn’t reach his pale eyes.

Ouch. That makes my chest ache knowing I’ll be leaving in the morning.

Why do I have to? What good will it do?

I have nothing to go back to.

“Surprise me? Which clothes do you mind letting me borrow for a few months?” I scrunch my face up, hating that I have to even ask.

His jaw ticks as he looks at me. “I don’t need these back.” He hands me a folded set of thermal top and pants.

“Is that because you never want to see me again?” A lump forms in my throat.

Maybe he’s only been playing nice this whole time?

His hair falls over his eyes as he shakes his head. “It’s not like that. You just don’t have to feel obliged to return them.” The corner of his mouth drops before he looks away. “They ain’t worth a special trip.”

Is he talking about the outfit, or him?

“But what will I use as an excuse to drop by if you don’t want them back?” I do my best to keep my tone light, but it hurts to think he really doesn’t want anything to do with me again.

While his gaze is averted, I drop the towel and slide into the snug outfit. These fit me better than the baggy sweats I’ve been wearing. I don’t have to tie these up to be able to move.

He sighs as he hands me a package of food. It smells good, alfredo with chicken.

“You’re going to be so busy once you’re home, what with your dad being in the hospital and all, I’m sure you’re gonna hit the ground running. You don’t need to worry about some ol’ cowboy hiding in the woods, I know you’re going to be just fine.” His nose wrinkles over his own meal. “Maybe the next time you’re at Chino’s you’ll remember to feel sorry for me not having real Italian pasta.” He gestures to his pouch and threads out a thin noodle.

“You could go with me?” I’m beginning to feel like I’m chasing my tail.

When he sits on the stool, staring at his fork, I know.

“You’re better off without me, April. You’re destined for bigger and better things than I could ever imagine.” His fingers run through his hair, then he drops his palm over his face, rubbing his chin. “Fuck, I’m probably the biggest idiot in the world.”

“Ford—” My irritation comes out when I stab into my bag. “—I’m not asking you to marry me. I just could really use—” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “—a friend. I have no one. Can I at least keep in contact so I feel like I have some sort of someone out there who gives half a shit?”

“Absolutely. Anything you need.” He doesn’t hesitate.

I swear he’s his own worst enemy.

“Just…answer the phone if I call? I gotta start right off with an exam at the doctor’s, then give a statement to the sheriff. I really would love it if I could bitch about it after.” I’m dreading it.

Too bad he couldn’t be there.

He crumples his empty pouch, then reaches for mine, tossing them into the garbage. “What do you mean ‘exam’? Are you still hurting?” The tender look he gives me almost makes tears well in my eyes.

“No. I mean, yea, a little, but not enough for that. Don’t ya know that when a girl gets violated, they do it again at the hospital for their evidence stuff? I know too many from college that had to go through it. Fuck, our RA even did a whole speech about the order of events in case we got assaulted.” My stomach turns sour.

I hope the alfredo stays down.

“Jesus, April. I’m sorry.” His teeth grit. “I had no idea.”

Damn it. I’m not gonna cry. “Let’s not talk about it.” I drop to the floor next to Roscoe and he leans off his bed to put his head on my lap. “I just wanna pretend that none of it exists tonight.”

“That’s fair.” His lips purse and he pauses, then gets up and joins me next to the dog.

Roscoe stands up, the little nub of his tail wagging, turns a full circle, and then lies down with his head on my lap again, but this time with his butt on Ford’s leg.

“I see how I rate.” He smiles, then pats Roscoe’s haunches. “So tell me what you’d order at Chino’s if we were to go.”

“I’ll do you one better. I took three semesters of culinary classes as an extra elective. I’d make the best chicken parm you’ve ever had.” I lean back, a smirk tugging at my cheek.

He tilts his head, idly scratching Roscoe’s blue fur. “Okay, but how are you at bacon? ‘Cause there’s an art to it.” His eyes glint in the soft light.

“Call me ‘the Picasso of salted pork’, baby. I can make a BLT with chipotle mayo that would knock your socks off.” I rock my shoulders in cadence of every word, making him laugh.

It’s a deep baritone that fills the space between us and vibrates through me.

I like this version of him much more. When he finally relaxes enough that I can see the lighter side of his brooding persona.

“Let me guess, you’re the ‘DaVinci of desserts’?” He chuckles through the question.

I start giggling with him. “Give me some whipped cream and strawberries, and I can paint the Mona Lisa.”

The air gets heavier as his gaze settles on my mouth. “I bet you could do magic with a little bit of chocolate syrup.” His tongue traces his bottom lip before he looks down.

What I wouldn’t give to taste him one more time. My body buzzes at the memory of our kiss.

Was it really only this morning?

“Mmhmm. I learned how to make a fancy cocoa glaze. It’s hard when it’s cold, but the second you taste it, it melts buttery smooth and practically glides down your throat…like it’s begging to be swallowed.” I let my voice drop into a sultry purr. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I watch his nostrils flare.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks anywhere in the room but at me.

“I better go get some wood and get the fire set before bed.” He pushes himself to his feet, and moves towards the door, pausing to readjust himself before he slings on his jacket.

Why does he keep fighting this?