Goose bumps broke out on her arms, images of dangerous men lurking around her home making her throat close. She took the phone. “Goddammit, I just wanted to take a hot shower, go to bed, and forget tonight happened.”
Wes sent her a sympathetic look. “Get a locksmith headed out there, and we’ll pick up some food. The locksmith can work. We can eat. And I’ll stick around until you can do a thorough search of your place to make sure nothing is out of order.”
She frowned his way. “You don’t need to do that. I’m sure you need to get home. And—”
“I’m not going to leave you until I know you’re all right. That’s not going to happen.” He said resolutely. “So…McDonald’s or Indian?”
She stared at him. His hazel eyes held calm determination, and under different circumstances—if she didn’t know the type of guy he really was—she would’ve let herself enjoy the chivalry for a moment. Guys didn’t take that road with her often because she wore her toughness like a cape. Stand back, boys. I can handle it. And she could.
But right now she wished she could fold up that cape and put it in a drawer for a few hours. Let the man with the pretty eyes and the sexy smile take the lead for a little while and allow her to just take a breath, shake off the night, and find her footing again. To feel safe and not so alone, despite all her worst anxieties pushing at the back of her brain like an angry crowd ready to riot. But she couldn’t trust this man. Whoever this version of him was, it was a facade. Somewhere in there was the angry guy she’d seen in court. The man who’d stepped out on his wife. He was showing her his good side.
However, knowing he wasn’t that great of a guy beneath the surface wasn’t going to stop her from accepting his offer. She was woman enough to admit that she was way too freaked out to go home alone. She’d have a panic attack before she made it through the front door. Plus, she spent her days dealing with liars, and she didn’t get the sense that Wes had some agenda. He didn’t have anything to gain. And he wasn’t trying to hit on her—not shocking news.
Beside the fact that she looked like hell right now, guys like him didn’t pursue women like her. She didn’t attract edgy or rebellious. She tended to draw businessmen who wanted to impress their mother with “a smart girl from a good family.” She had a feeling Wes couldn’t give a shit about impressing anyone, but for whatever reason, he was genuinely concerned and trying to be helpful.
Tonight, she’d take it.
Rebecca wet her lips. “Indian.”
She’d never actually had Indian food before, but she got the sense that was what Wes wanted, and a greasy hamburger just didn’t sound all that appealing at the moment. Indian food had rice. She knew, at the very least, she could get that.
A genuine smile broke out on Wes’s face. “Excellent choice. You call the locksmith, and I’ll take care of the grub.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were in one of the many food-truck parks in Austin, and a guy with a mischievous smile and thick, dark hair was chatting with Wes from the window of a shiny, converted Airstream trailer called Mad Masala. He peered down at Wes’s stained jeans. “I thought you were helping Suzie out tonight. You come back looking like you’ve been through war. What the hell happened?”
“Long story. But it involved police, a hurt dog, and both of us missing dinner.” Wes cocked a thumb toward Rebecca. “Dev, meet Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Devin Madan, head chef of this fine establishment.”
Devin leaned out through the window and shook her hand. “Lovely to meet you. And no dinner? Well, we need to fix that. What do you like? Curry? Biryani? Dal?”
She lifted her shoulders and gave him an apologetic look. “So, if I’ve never actually tried Indian food…”
He put a hand to his heart and grimaced. “Wesley, you are letting me down. Your friend has never had Indian food. What kind of person are you not to have introduced her to—”
Wes lifted a hand. “We just met tonight, Dev. Give me a break. I got her here as quickly as I could to indoctrinate her.” He turned to Rebecca. “All right. You tell me some basics, and we’ll hook you up. Spicy or mild?”
“Somewhere in the middle.”
“Vegetarian or carnivore?”
“Omnivore.”
“Do you feel like potatoes or rice?”
“Rice.”
Wes looked up at Devin, and at the same time they both said, “Butter chicken.”
Rebecca didn’t protest. Anything called butter chicken couldn’t be bad. “I’ll trust you guys.”
Wesley’s lips lifted at one corner. “It’s not the most adventurous choice, but I’ll go easy on you since this is your first time.”
Rebecca’s face heated like she was thirteen again and everything a boy said was a double entendre. Very mature, Bec.
“That’s what she said,” Devin supplied.
Wes groaned and gave him a look. “Really, man?”
Devin shrugged. “You walked right into that one. It was my duty.”