“If you’re done creeping on me, let’s make a plan,” she says, her voice lacking its usual sass.
“It’s not creeping when you enjoy it.”
She scoffs. “I did not enjoy you staring inside my crazy-ass head.”
So she felt it too?
Like her mind was being penetrated by me?
“As you probably just realized,” I murmur. “I’m the crazy one here.”
No sense in denying the fact it felt like she was staring inside of me too.
Her eyes sweep over my face, landing on my mouth. “Hush.”
I nod at her, pressing my lips together. The last thing either of us needs is her trying to shut me up again. Next time, I might run my fingers through her silky blond hair or kiss that beauty mark on her neck.
She peels out of the empty parking lot, driving like a psycho. It’s just the reality check I need. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s a damn teenager. I’m not some perv. It annoys me that I even considered kissing any part of her.
It’s Penny, for fuck’s sake.
Bratty, annoying, mean-ass Penny.
God sure did make her fucking pretty to mess with my head.
Maybe I never woke from that coma. Maybe this is hell. Penny as my very own little Satan… Not sure I exactly hate the idea.
Which means, maybe I’m not in hell at all, and instead going for a joy ride with a grumpy angel.
I glance over at her, admiring her beautiful features.
Fuck.
She’s definitely an angel.
An angel I’m suddenly all too smitten with.
I’m so fucked.
Penny
Something’s wrong with me.
I’m sick. More so than usual. It’s like all the strange things that go on inside my head are traveling. Making my chest feel tight or my stomach twist violently. My skin burns and my palms are sweaty. The most unusual feeling is in my pelvis. Aching. Throbbing. And I’m not even on my period anymore.
It’s Terrence.
Each time I’m around him, my body goes haywire.
I don’t like it. I don’t like him.
Liar.
Ignoring the quiet whisper in the back of my mind, I follow the instructions of my GPS. It’s on silent, but I glance at the roads and suggested turns as they approach. Once, I tried to keep the volume on, but it was so damn annoying, I had to pull over and find the mute. I don’t understand how anyone can put up with that supposedly pleasing voice telling them where to go.
I pull into a crappy neighborhood, searching for the house number. Slowly, I drive past, trying to catch a peek.
“Is that it?” Terrence asks, leaning over the console to peer through my window.
“Yeah. I’m going to park a few houses down and we—”
“Not we,” he bites out. “Me. Dude’s an asshole. I don’t want you near him.”
Anger surges up inside me as I pull into someone else’s driveway to turn around. “I’m going.”
As soon as I pull to a stop, Terrence grips my wrist. The touch sends a jolt of electricity zapping through me, but it’s not unpleasant. I don’t pull from his hold.
“I’m going,” I say with a little more venom.
His mahogany eyes bore into me. “You’re not, Penny.”
“I—”
“Jesus Christ,” he snaps. “I said no. This guy gives me a bad feeling. I want to keep you safe.”
I gape at him. “Why? You’re not my brother or my keeper!”
His thumb strokes over my skin, causing my heart to skidder to a stop. “Please let me keep you safe.”
Unbelievable.
“No,” I grumble. “We’re doing this together or not at all.”
He’s pissed based on the way his nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. “Goddammit, English.”
“Let’s go. Like I said, let me do the talking,” I tell him as I climb out.
He follows behind me, stomping through the snow like a bratty toddler. A smile tugs at my lips. It quickly melts away when we start up the driveway to this house. It’s in dire need of repair. The roof is sagging in areas and the siding is hanging off in some spots.
“You think anyone is here?” Terrence asks. “I don’t see any lights on.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I mutter, carefully climbing the slippery concrete steps.
I knock on the door—three short raps—and then wait, actually welcoming any sounds for once. Footsteps approach and then the door creaks open. An older white woman with a sour expression answers the door.
“Can I help you?” she snaps.
“I’m here to see Zella.”
Terrence stiffens beside me. I realize he may not have even known her name. When I looked at the file earlier, I discovered her name is Zella Teejay Henderson.
The woman frowns. “You’re the replacement sitter?”
Before I can answer her, a little girl peeks her head around the woman’s leg. My heart clenches like it does whenever I see Sebban, something I don’t quite understand, but don’t hate.
“Hi, Zella,” I chirp, pretending to sound like Charlotte since she puts everyone at ease. “I’m Penny.”
Zella’s familiar brown eyes pin me. “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.” The quiet whisper—almost inaudible—makes me want to snatch her and steal her for Terrence. She’s obviously his. They make the same sad expressions and have the same eyes.
“It appears this will be your new sitter, Zella,” the woman says. Then, her eyes dart over to Terrence. “Mr. Henderson won’t allow you to bring your boyfriend over. He’s strict.”
Boyfriend?
I almost laugh.
But Terrence slings his arm over my shoulders, making me freeze at his possessive touch.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Terrence rumbles. “We’re just stopping by. She’ll come alone next time.”
“Marilyn,” the woman says. “My name is Marilyn. Come inside for a bit then.”
She and the little girl step aside, allowing us entry. Terrence’s arm slides off my shoulders, his palm settling at the small of my back, as he guides me in. I know we’re playing a part, but I can’t explain the jackhammering of my heart.
“Have a seat. I can make some tea,” Marilyn offers. “Zella likes Earl Gray with a bit of cream, don’t you sweetie?”
Zella nods, her array of tight, golden curls bouncing. Since I want this lady to leave us be, I force a smile.
“I’ll have it the same way then,” I say to Marilyn.
The woman walks away, leaving me and Terrence with the girl. She sits on the love seat, her curious eyes sweeping over me and then Terrence. He sits on the sofa, angling his body toward her and leaning forward. I sit beside him, studying her.
Her dark eyebrows are pinched together and she frowns. Most kids around her age are bouncing around and getting into trouble. They most certainly can be noisy. Sebban is definitely a rambunctious, noisy kid.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Four and a half.”
Terrence tenses from beside me.
“When’s your birthday?”
She frowns harder. “April.”
Terrence curses. I elbow him to keep his emotions in check. The dates must be adding up for him.