I’m careful not to touch her injured arm and settle my hand into the small of her back to guide her towards the front of the building. She doesn’t offer me any resistance and I’m worried she’s really shaken up if she’s not making a scene right now.
There are so many mixed emotions running through me, I don’t bother speaking to her as I guide her down the sidewalk towards my car. I glance over and she looks as lost in thought as I am, though she’s obviously a bit more wobbly than me. I could strangle her for going out and getting so drunk that someone almost took advantage of her. It’s really not her fault, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me at the moment.
We approach my Maserati and I unlock the car with my fob before steering her towards the passenger side. I pull open the door and she sits in the seat without a word. I’m getting a little worried about her silence. Perhaps she’s in shock?
I grab the seat belt and stretch it across her body, locking it into place before closing the door. Even though I’m careful not to brush up against her body, it doesn’t mean that her scent doesn’t wrap itself around me, teasing me, practically begging me to lean in and kiss her.
Heading around the front of the car, I slide into the driver’s seat and press the start button. I flip the heat on full blast, hoping to thaw out my body while simultaneously bringing Hollie out of the stupor she’s in.
“What are you doing?” she asks. She’s talking, that’s a good sign.
“Taking you home.” I say in a voice carefully devoid of all emotion. I can’t let anything slip right now. Lord only knows what would come out. I don’t want to tell her how scared I was, how that man could have done anything to her. I’ll stick to my ice cold front instead.
“Oh, I can get a ride share. My car’s at the office.” She pulls her phone out of her purse and almost drops it several times before she has a firm enough grip to scroll through her apps. I grab it out of her drunken hands and slip it safely into my pocket. Before she can protest, I lock eyes with her.
“Do you really think you should be in a car with a stranger right now? You’re drunk, Hollie. You’re so drunk you almost got hurt. If I wasn’t there, what would have happened? Have you thought about that?” The words are practically spit from my mouth. Yes, I’m taking all of my worries out on her, but I don’t care at this moment. This can’t happen again.
Sinking back into the leather seat, she says quietly, “I know, thank you.” A few seconds of silence pass between us before she continues on. “How are you here?”
I’m not about to tell her I was standing outside watching her, so I simply say, “I was passing by. The important thing is you’re okay. Now give me your address so I can take you home.”
That seems to bring her back to life. Her voice has its normal strength back, even if it is a little slurred, as she says, “No! My roommates can’t see you dropping me off. No way. I promise I’m sober enough to take a share ride. Just let me out here.” She practically begs, making like she’s going to open the door and hop out.
I don’t know what the big deal is about her roommates seeing me, but I’m too tired to question it at this point. Plus, the fewer people that see us together, the better. Before she can get out, I check over my shoulder and pull the Maserati out into the Seattle evening traffic, weaving my way through the cars, heading east. The only sound in the car is that of the low playing radio until she asks, “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
“What?!”
“Miss. Simmons, you won’t give me your address and I’m not leaving you alone in some stranger’s car, so this is the only option we have left.”
She lets out a littlehumphand settles back into her seat. “It’s always Miss. Simmons with you,” she bursts out, taking me by surprise with the change of subject. I thought for sure she would have more protests for me about bringing her home. “Miss. Simmons, this. Miss. Simmons, that.” She’s lowered her voice, and it’s apparent she’s trying to imitate me. Quite poorly, might I add. “Miss. Simmons, my coffee must never be cold. Miss. Simmons, nary an onion shall ever touch my plate.”
At that, I almost let out a laugh. Almost. Instead, I turn to scowl at her. “I have a name, you know,” she says.
“I’m aware.”
“You can use it. I don’t mind.”
I remain staring forward and don’t bother responding to that. I’ve been calling her Miss. Simmons to maintain the professional distance we have. Getting too familiar with her would be a disaster of epic proportions. However, it does seem kind of silly to call her that at this point. I can use her name. “Only if you call me Archer.”
She doesn’t respond, so I glance over at her. She’s passed out in the passenger seat. Her honey colored hair is spread out across the seat and reminds me of a halo. She looks like an angel. My fingers twitch to reach over and smooth the strands away from her face when she lets out a loud snore, almost startling me.
I can feel my lips turn up in an involuntary smile.
Adorable.
Well, shit.Hollie has always been someone that I’m attracted to. A woman that I want to fuck. I haven’t thought of her as adorable before. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I thought anyone was adorable. This can’t be good.
I continue driving in silence, lost in thought, until I pull into the driveway to my house in Madison Park. As I approach, the garage door opens and I park the car in the empty bay next to my Land Rover.
“Hollie, we’re here.” My gentle voice doesn’t stir her from her slumber, so I try again a bit more forcefully. “Hollie.”
Her eyes shoot open and she looks around in confusion, like she can’t remember where she is.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
“This is your house?”