Page 51 of Stealing His Cupcake (Stockholm Syndrome for the Win #2)

Amy

Certain I must have misheard Wyatt, I clear my throat. “Uh, excuse me? I can’t drive. I don’t have a license and wouldn’t even know how.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Wyatt says slowly, as if he were talking to a child. “That’s why you’re about to learn. Geraldine is right, it’s not that hard. And the nearest bus stop is two miles away from our house. You need to be able to drive.”

He crowds me against the open car door, but I don’t get in.

There’s absolutely no way I’m driving his super-expensive SUV.

“It’s not like I’d apply for the job, anyway.

I’m not good enough for such a position.

Besides, I’m a captive, right? Isn’t the whole point of being a captive that you don’t have to leave the house anymore? ”

“You are not applying for that job,” Wyatt confirms. “Not right now, but later, you absolutely will, and you will get it, and I will be driving you there myself every single day until you get your license. Not because we need the money, but because you’ll love it.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you all but glowed under Geraldine’s praise.

You love baking for others and you will love seeing people buy your creations.

If that position isn’t available in a couple of weeks, we’ll find another one. Or I’ll get you your own bakery.”

My mouth drops open and I shake my head vigorously. “No! Oh my god, absolutely not! I’d be the worst business owner ever. Anything but that.”

“Fine. But you’ll apply for that job once—”

“Once it’s safe?” I ask softly, placing my hands on Wyatt’s chest. “This isn’t about you not trusting me, right? Someone’s after you.”

At a loss for words, Wyatt covers my hands with his much larger ones. “How?”

“I’m not blind. I’ve seen how on edge you’ve been since that day you ‘made a mistake’.

How you constantly look around as if someone were to jump out of the bushes.

How we took a car instead of walking here despite it only being a nice half-mile stroll.

How you keep checking the cameras around the house through your phone.

How you never let me out of your sight. Unless…

” Unless I got it all wrong and he truly doesn’t trust me?

Sighing, Wyatt pulls me into a tight hug. “You’re much more perceptive than I give you credit for. I really thought I could hide it from you. I never meant to deceive you, I just didn’t want you to worry.”

Despite it objectively being the worst of the two options, I’m relieved.

Wyatt trusts me. He just didn’t want to worry me.

“You’re sweet, but that’s just stupid. If there’s danger, I need to know.

Is it because of that trucker?” It started on the same day but I can’t think of a plausible connection.

Could he be a member of some powerful organized crime group?

“No, it’s not connected. It’s…someone else. I’ll keep you safe, Amy, you don’t have to worry.”

I’m curious, but he obviously doesn’t want to share more, so I don’t press.

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you.

They’re after you.” When Wyatt stiffens, I realize my mistake.

I’m his wife now, and who always gets kidnapped to lure the main character into a trap?

That’s right, their spouse. Dammit. “Okay,” I say slowly, giving myself a moment to deal with that revelation. “What do I do? ”

Wyatt’s arms tighten around me. “You don’t have to do anything, cupcake. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Well, obviously I won’t be running around waving a gun and hunting those assholes down, but how do I help you?

I’ve seen a million movies where the wife gets kidnapped because she’s dumb, so I know not to go anywhere alone or react to ‘your’ messages to meet you in creepy places.

Oh, we should have a pass code so that I know you’re the one texting me if something happens.

I assume I should stay inside the house for now? ”

“I don’t want to confine you to the house but yes, it would be much easier for me to keep an eye on things if you just stayed inside for now. I’ll show you where the hidden weapon caches are and teach you to shoot a gun.”

I grimace. “I know how to use a gun. One of my exes considered going to a shooting range a romantic date night. I don’t like it but I know how to point and shoot without killing myself.”

“A romantic date night, hm? What a loser. What was his name again?”

Laughing, I slap Wyatt’s chest. “I’m absolutely not telling you! It’s bad enough what you did to that trucker. Did you mean for him to survive the accident?”

“If I wanted him dead, he would be dead,” Wyatt replies darkly. “And he hadn’t been just looking at you. He was undressing you with his eyes. Only I am allowed to do that.”

Whew. That’s so freaking hot. I mean, wrong.

Dammit, why do I keep getting those two mixed up?

“Why do you want me to apply for a job in the town, then? If I work in a cafe, even if it’s just in the kitchen, I will occasionally come in contact with other people.

And it would be somewhat suspicious if the customers started having ‘accidents’ after meeting me. Not to mention terrible for business.”

“That’s different,” Wyatt grumbles.

“How?”

“It just is. Now, stop stalling and get behind that wheel. ”

The wheel. Oh god, the car. I completely forgot he wanted me to drive. “I wasn’t sta—”

Wyatt’s voice takes on a darker edge. “Amy. Get inside that car or I’ll spank you right here on the spot. And you can bet Geraldine is probably watching us from her window right now.”

“Okay.” Not wanting to get spanked, I hurriedly sit behind the wheel. Or maybe that’s because how wet I suddenly am? Would I actually like getting spanked?

You absolutely would. Not in front of that old witch, though.

I shake my head as if that could dispel the voice. I’m already not normal for liking a killer and not really minding what he does. There’s no way I’m adding liking spanking to that list.

After shutting the door so I can’t escape, Wyatt rounds the car and gets in on the passenger side. I stare at the big wheel in front of me, terrified to touch it even though the car isn’t moving yet.

“Push your seat forward until you can comfortably reach the pedals,” Wyatt instructs, showing me various levers I can use to change the seat’s position.

When he’s done, I can actually see the road from where I sit, so that’s good, I guess?

“It’s automatic,” he explains, “so you only have two pedals.”

I only have two legs. How many of the damned pedals should I have?!

“You also don’t have to worry about changing gears.”

“I have no clue what that even means,” I wail. “I really don’t want to crash your car.”

Wyatt rolls his eyes. “You won’t crash the car, cupcake. It’s easy, really. A person with one arm and one leg could drive this comfortably. You’ll do fine.”

I’m not sure how the number of limbs translates to operating a vehicle, but it’s not like I’m being given a choice. “What if there’s another car? Or the police? Or-or a bear?! What do I do if there’s a bear?”

“You wave at him. If he’s wearing a hat, you hide your picnic basket. Bears like that are notorious for stealing picnic baskets. Calm down, Amy. There will not be a bear, or any other car, police or otherwise. We’ll just slowly go back to our house and—”

“I am NOT parking in the garage!” The thought of having to enter the narrow opening right next to Wyatt’s sports car nearly has me fainting on the spot.

“You don’t have to. Just stop in front of the house, okay?”

Yeah, or run through the wall. Jesus. Looking around Wyatt, I realize he was right.

Geraldine is indeed watching us with rapt attention.

When she waves at me, I wave back weakly.

“What’s with Geraldine’s book club?” I ask Wyatt in a last-ditch attempt to put off the inevitable car crash. “It sounded…”

“Naughty?” Wyatt laughs. “They read smut.”

I choke on a gasp. “They read what now?!”

“Romance with lots of sex.” Wyatt shrugs. “I joined them once or twice when a book caught my attention, but it was just weird discussing my favorite sex scenes with raunchy ladies that could be my grandmothers.”

“Weird. Uh-huh. Yeah. That would definitely be…weird. So—”

Wyatt gives me a stern look. “No more stalling. Now, here’s what you’re going to do.”