“Goddamn it,” I grumble as I make a U-turn, heading back to do what’s right, even if it kills me.
3
Nick
I pull into the darkness, a couple dozen feet away, and watch her as she reclines the seat, curls onto her side, and closes her eyes.
I glance up, cursing. I can’t leave her out here to sleep, but I’m also tired, and I know with her around, I’m not getting a wink of sleep.
I exhale, climbing off my bike and stalking toward her car, hoping I won’t regret my next move for the rest of my life.
I knock lightly against the driver’s side window with my knuckles. “Jo,” I call.
Her eyes snap open, but she doesn’t move. She stares at me, wide-eyed. “What in the fuck,” she gasps, or at least I think she does since I can’t hear her but am reading her lips instead.
“Babe.” I motion toward the glass. “Roll it down.”
She blinks, her hand still tucked under her cheek, lying on her side. “Go away!” she yells loud enough for me to make out those words clear as day.
“Come on,” I plead, stepping back and running my hand through my hair, trying to play it cool. “We gotta talk.”
A second later, she sits up and grabs the steering wheel with one hand and gives me the middle finger with the other.
This bitch is dripping with attitude.
“You can’t stay here.”
Her eyes narrow as she finally cracks the window, but only enough so she can tell me, “You don’t own this place. Get the fuck out of here.”
I stifle my laughter. Her attitude doesn’t scare me. Growing up Gallo, I don’t have a woman in my family who isn’t filled with piss and vinegar and wouldn’t make Jo seem like a kitten compared to her. “I know I don’t fucking own the place, but you still can’t stay here.”
“Fuck off,” she replies, saying those words calmly, evenly, and softly. “Like, all the way off.”
“All the way off?” I ask, making sure I heard her right. “How far do the fucks go?”
She stares at me, her lips flat, blinking. “Are you for real?”
“Real as they come, babe.” I smile. “But listen to me, you really can’t stay here. I’m not giving you shit, but it’s not safe. And if the homeless don’t bother you, the cops sure as fuck will.”
“I’m too tired to drive back to Clearwater. It’s over an hour away. I checked my phone, and there’s one motel—they rent by the hour, by the way—and right now, they’re booked. So, since I have nowhere to go, I’m exhausted, and my eyes are so damn puffy, I’ll take my chances with the cops and the homeless.”
I brush my fingers back and forth through my hair. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but other than being an emotional wreck with a mouth like a truck driver, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to whack me in the middle of the night.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Only pretty sure?”
I nod. “If you tried, I know I can take you, but that’s beside the point. My place is a few miles down the road, and you can crash there tonight and head back to Jamison tomorrow.”
“I’m not going back to Jamison.”
“Well then, you can go wherever the hell you want tomorrow.”
She eyes me, studying my face, passing judgment on me. “How do I know you’re not a murderer?”
I point to the camera on the light post next to her car. “Cameras everywhere, babe. If I were going to do you harm, I sure as hell wouldn’t leave any evidence.”
“How is that even your answer?”
“Babe.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t notice the cameras, but somehow you’ve already seen them, knew you were spotted, and decided to share that information with me.”
“My dad’s ex-law enforcement. He’s taught me how to survey a situation and always be aware of my surroundings. But besides that, doesn’t everyone know there’re cameras always watching, especially in parking lots and high-crime areas?”
She looks around. “This is a high-crime area?”
My hometown isn’t much. One busy street packed with retail chains and restaurants. Every other inch consists of housing developments or acreage with “No Trespassing” signs posted on the gate at the end of their driveway. I may have exaggerated about the high-crime area. We’ve never had much action when it comes to shit like that. The town is too small, and everyone knows everyone’s face and, therefore, their business.
“My place is a hell of a lot safer than here,” I tell her, wondering why the hell I’m working so hard with someone who’s clearly in need but doesn’t want my help. “But if you’d rather—”
“No.” The window moves a few inches lower. “I wouldn’t rather stay here.”
“Then fire her up, and let’s get a move on,” I tell her, ticking my chin toward the car.
“I need to tell someone where I am. Just to be safe.”
I reach into my pocket, fishing out my wallet, and I slide out my driver’s license and hold it out for her. “Send my info to someone and tell them to check on you tomorrow.”
She plucks the plastic card from my fingers, her eyes running over the information. “Nicholas Gallo,” she reads.
“Babe, snap the picture, send the message, and let’s go. I want to get home and get some shut-eye before I have to be at work tomorrow.”
She raises her hand and turns on the overhead light. “Fine,” she mutters. “But I’m not having sex with you. I want that to be clear.”
“Clear as fucking day. I thought we agreed on that fact back at the taco joint. I know you think you’re all that, but you’re not my type.”
Her brows furrow. “I’m not your type?”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Take the damn photo and follow me,” I tell her, stalking away, heading back to my bike.
Tomorrow, I’m going to tell my dad he’s a damn fool. Not every woman in the world needs to be protected, especially not difficult ones who clearly do not want help.
By the time my ass is on my bike, her engine roars to life and her headlights turn on.
Thank fuck.
She follows me out of the parking lot, keeping her distance as we drive down the main road, turning onto my street. Her car slows, the space between my bike and her car growing wider.
I cut the engine, rolling my bike into my driveway and walking it up to the garage door. My neighbor, Mrs. Marcum, is a light sleeper, and her baby an even lighter one. The last thing I need is her banging on my door in the morning, telling me what a shit human I am for waking up her baby in the middle of the night.
Jo pulls behind my bike, staring up at my house through the windshield, craning her neck. I put the kickstand down, climb off, and motion for her to move her ass too.
She climbs out slowly, her eyes sweeping across the exterior of my house. “This is where you live?” she asks without looking at me.
“Uh, yeah. Not what you expected?”
She lifts her purse higher on her shoulder. “I figured you’d live in a…”