Provoked (Forbidden Crush #2)

Chapter 6

6

Two days later and I’m ready to tear my hair out at Justin’s high handedness. He made me call Danvers to cancel our shopping trip because my leg is still swollen. Do you know how impossible it is to do anything with your leg elevated? I can read or watch television but I don’t want to do either. I want to unpack boxes, cook in my new kitchen, and basically revel in finally having my own place.

Justin put a stop to that immediately. If I’m not in bed or on the tufted couch in the living room, then he’s carrying me from one to the other. All because I made the mistake of telling him my leg felt worse the following morning. He hasn’t yelled once, though. He gets this strange look in his eye when he’s about to, but something changes his mind at the last second. His lips narrow into delightful arrogance and his nostrils flare, just like the arrogant duke, but that’s it. It makes me suspicious and honestly I almost prefer the yelling. Not quite, but almost .

Things between us feel like they’re at an impasse. I know he hasn’t changed, not really. He’s been on excellent behavior, but I simply don’t trust that it will last for too much longer. And he’s too much of a city type to ever feel at home in Montana. Maybe that’s why he always seems slightly on edge? He’s going to leave soon. He said so when he got here, so I’m waiting for that shoe to drop so I can get over him all over again.

I know, I know. Other than taking care of me without complaining (except for when I try to avoid said care) he’s hardly shown himself to be someone deserving of love. But maybe that’s it. He’s so alone . I think if Justin had someone who loved him unconditionally and with her whole heart, he might just turn out to be a different person entirely.

I’m not stupid enough to think I can make that happen, though. But as long as it’s not Margot, the bitchy redhead, maybe I’d be able to be happy for him if he found love with someone else. A nice woman who wouldn’t put up with his arrogance, but would ground him. With a kiss and a kind smile. Like… like… I can’t think of any woman I’ve met who matches that criteria. Frowning, I sit up just as Justin brings my lunch tray.

“Justin?”

He raises an inquiring eyebrow as he sets the tray on the nightstand.

“Do you know any women that don’t put up with you being bossy?”

His brow furrows in thought. “Bossy how? I am the boss in the office so…”

“No, out of the office. Anyone that doesn’t put up with your shit?”

His beautiful lips curve into a smirk before he replies. “Yes, two.”

I take in a shuddery breath. Two is hopeful. I only need one.

“Who?” I ask breathlessly .

He rolls his eyes. “Kathy, my housekeeper, and…” He widens his eyes dramatically. “You!”

He’s chuckling as he departs, missing my frown of disappointment. Kathy won’t do. She’s lovely but about twenty years older than him and ready to retire to the beach. I don’t know her well because she didn’t live in, but she seemed nice the few times I met her. And obviously I won’t do because Justin can’t stop bossing me around. But really that’s it? Everyone else goes along with him or pretends to? I think back to Margot sneering at him when she didn’t think either of us would notice. Yeah, I guess Justin’s world is filled with women like her. Maybe he is better off alone if that’s the alternative.

I eat my sandwich without really tasting it. I’m pretty sure my leg is better. I’m going to test it later today and then tomorrow make Justin take me into town for groceries and hopefully a car. And it’s also time to get back to work soon. I gave myself a two-week vacation to deal with the move, but that’s almost up and my materials will be arriving in the next day or so. I was going to use the room Justin’s sleeping in as my studio, but that would be awkward, assuming he’s still here when the boxes arrive. So many moving puzzle pieces.

Setting the tray aside, I inspect my injured leg. The swelling went down yesterday and the bruising is starting to fade. It’s still pretty virulent but less colorful than it was. Hesitantly, I swing it over the side of the bed, eyeing the doorway for a sudden Justin appearance. All clear. I stand waiting for the wince of pain, but it doesn’t come. I’m better!

I walk the length of the room carefully, delighted when all I feel is a slight hesitancy in my gait from being laid up. When I turn to walk back, Justin is standing in the doorway, glowering.

“Relax. It’s better. Really.”

“Sit, and let me see,” he orders, pointing at the bed.

With a sigh, I do as he said, raising my leg up for his inspection. His touch is gentle as he runs his fingers over my shin. Finally, he gives a nod, looking slightly shut off. Isn’t he pleased?

“Justin?” I falter, not even sure what I’m asking.

He gives me a weak smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “I want to make sure you have transportation of your own, then I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow.”

My heart sinks. It’s what I expected. No, it’s what I want. Isn’t it? I nod again. “We can go into town in the morning? I want to get groceries, anyway.”

“Right. Better rest up then. That’s going to be a busy day.”

He sounds dead serious and his face is stern, but I catch the twinkle deep in his eyes, which means he meant that as a joke. I give him a genuine smile back. “You should check your blood pressure while we’re there and when you get back to New York. I’ll bet it’s a hundred times lower here.”

He snorts. “Cows rarely require legal services, Ingrid.”

I snicker at the image of him in his fancy suits listening to a friendly bovine complain about a corporate takeover. It could happen.

I still don’t feel right about leaving Ingrid here, so isolated and alone. But as she’s said numerous times, she’s an adult and can make her own decisions. I respect that, but I know damn well she still has no idea of the amount of evil lurking in the world. And she shouldn’t need to, and wouldn’t if she had someone here with only her interests at heart to protect her.

My brain turns that puzzle over as I head back downstairs. God only knows what messages are waiting for me on my cell. There’s no signal here, and the internet hasn’t been connected yet so… I’m cut off from all my usual sources of in formation. I don’t like it. It makes me feel naked somehow. But going back to my penthouse, even though it’s filled with every modern convenience and ultra high security communications leaves me feeling cold.

That ambiguity hangs over my head as we head into ‘town’. As near as I can tell when we get there, it’s some buildings on either side of the highway. If there’s even one cross street, I missed it as we drove past. At twenty-five miles an hour. The scenery is beautiful, though. Tall pine trees shelter between giant boulders along the road. About ten miles past the far edge of town, we find the grocery store Ingrid directed me to. It’s bigger than I expected, but hardly super-sized. I gather from the vehicles pulling in from both directions of the highway that it must serve more than one local community.

Ingrid puts me in charge of pushing the cart, and I let her. I haven’t done my own grocery shopping in at least twenty years. And since I found Kathy, I haven’t even had to make the list. So I’m slightly in awe of Ingrid’s easy maneuvering of the crowded aisles. Her eyes scan, and then she selects. A few times she squints at the ingredient list and then puts the item back, selecting a different brand.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she remarks dryly as she sets a jar of dill pickles in the cart.

“Merely contemplating how long it’s been since I’ve been in a grocery store.” I don’t mean it in a pejorative way, but of course, Ingrid’s spine stiffens.

She opens her mouth to say something, no doubt provoking if the sparks in her eyes are anything to judge by. But then her jaw lifts abruptly, and she turns away. In an odd way, I’m disappointed.

The rest of the grocery run is conducted in silence. If Ingrid is seething, she doesn’t show it. She’s all business as we check out except for the glare when I instinctively reach for my wallet .

I make brisk business of loading the bags into the back of my rental while Ingrid keeps up a running commentary on the local community based on studying the parking lot. “Crazy drivers,” she mutters as we both turn to watch a dark vehicle maneuver for a closer spot by zig-zagging between lanes through unoccupied spaces.

“I’d like to see someone try that in New York,” I comment idly, trying to see who’s driving.

The auto dealership is another twenty miles up the deserted highway. Five salesmen instinctively appear and begin salivating when they catch sight of Ingrid’s Nordic beauty. And that air of old money, but really I think they’d all forego the sale if she asked them to fetch her something from the other side of town. I growl in warning and they immediately sober up. The older one of the lot steps forward.

“How can we help you today?”

“ I am looking for something basic that can handle these roads year-round.” Her emphasis on the singular pronoun does not go unnoticed. An hour later and Ingrid is smiling with satisfaction from behind the wheel of a used all-wheel-drive sedan. Her happiness is at odds with the vehicle as far as I’m concerned. It cost less than her monthly allowance would be if she did as she was told and lived in New York. It’s at least ten years old and there are claw marks on the dashboard. From what, nobody can say, but Ingrid laughingly insists that the vehicle must have belonged to a werewolf and she can’t wait to tell her friend Rose all about it.

“I thought you two weren’t friends anymore?” I ask bewildered when she said that. She looks genuinely shocked.

“Whatever gave you that idea? She moved to Washington because that’s where her husband’s job is, but we talk at least once a week. And she’s due any minute now.”

“Due?”

“A baby, Justin. You do know what those are, right? ”

I nod, still trying to fit all the pieces together. Fred had told me the friend left in a hurry when Ingrid was living in North Carolina. I simply assumed they’d had some kind of spat and when she didn’t return that it was final. I can’t imagine rushing off across the country for love so impetuously.

“Come on, I want to get those groceries home before they melt,” Ingrid chides me and starts the engine. We’ve agreed that I will follow her back to town and that she’s to drive the speed limit the entire way. The open spaces here might encourage bad behavior, but it also means help will take far longer to arrive. If anyone even notices that help is required.

Driving is another bone of contention between us. She had her license when she came to live with me, but just barely. And I certainly didn’t want her attempting the streets of New York with so little experience. However, when I took her out to the rural outskirts to practice, she was so annoyed she did everything she could to drive me bat-shit crazy.

I’m back to thinking Justin needs my help. He’s been looking so confused this morning! It must only be beginning to dawn on him that I am actually capable of looking after myself. Well, as long as I’m not dragging luggage up the stairs, I guess. Still. I sigh heavily as I keep one eye on the speedometer. I would seriously be home by now if I didn’t have Justin trailing a consistent and conservative tenth of a mile behind me. There is nothing and nobody on the road in front of us. Nothing.

Which is probably why I notice the boring dark vehicle stopped at the end of a dusty gravel road that joins the highway. It’s just sitting there. With the engine running… There are no services out here. There’s certainly no traffic they need to wa it for before turning. I look closer. As if sensing my scrutiny, the driver makes a show of checking her hair and makeup in the rear-view mirror, obscuring my view of her face. That’s why I notice she’s a redhead.

Out of curiosity, I slow down slightly as I go behind the rocky curve in the road where the trees loom over the pavement. That’s probably the only reason I hear the crash. It’s a loud, shocking screech of metal on metal that reverberates off the rocks. And then a solid thud that has no echo. An instant later, there’s nothing but silence.

Justin!

Slamming on the brakes, I scan the road frantically in all directions, but as before, it’s completely empty. My hands are shaking and my heart is in my throat as I carefully do a three-point turn, eyeing the rocks hanging near the road. According to the nearby warning sign, sometimes they tumble down onto the road below. Is that what happened? I don’t think I can move a rock. But I may just have to try. The eerie stillness continues as I cautiously accelerate. I need to get to where he is quickly, but not so fast that I can’t stop the instant I need to.

I’m beginning to hyperventilate as I drive back the way I just came. It’s only seconds, but feels like hours before I arrive at the silent crash site. Justin’s vehicle is on its side. The other car is nowhere to be seen. The giant rock I was expecting isn’t in evidence.

“Justin!” I scream, trying to see inside the vehicle while also frantically reaching in my purse for my cell phone. Where is the damn thing? God, what if there’s no coverage out here? “Justin! Answer me!”

He’s silent. There’s nothing but wind through the nearby pine trees in response.

I can barely keep my hand steady to dial the three digits for 9-1-1. The calmness of the woman taking my call is reassuring, but the smoke trailing from the engine of Justin’s car is not. “Hurry!” I tell her.

“An ambulance and fire crew are on their way,” she promises without any sense of panic. She ends the call, leaving me to try to jump to see inside the vehicle. He’s only unconscious, right? Nobody could die that fast?