Follow Me Down - Melissa Toppen Page 0,2
wonder if Christy will realize I’m gone. My money is on no. If I know her, she’ll spend most of the week shut in with her boyfriend, probably getting high.
With the sun now below the horizon, the air becomes chillier the longer we drive. Earlier, when I dressed in a two-piece bathing suit with a thin cover up, I wasn’t anticipating taking a night ride on a motorcycle. It doesn’t help that I don’t have shoes on.
My teeth chatter and I snuggle deeper against the man in front of me. It feels oddly intimate, given that I don’t even know his name, and instantly makes me feel uneasy, but at this point I’m just trying to block out as much of the cool wind whipping around me as I can.
The further we drive, the colder I get and at one point I start to wonder if we’re ever going to stop.
Long, curvy roads. Thick woods. Not one house in sight.
Where is he taking me?
By the time he slows and turns down a narrow dirt road, I’m not sure if I’m more anxious to get off this bike and seek some sort of warmth, or fearful about what awaits me once I do.
In my panic to get away from Austin, I didn’t really think this through. Now, here I am, in the middle of nowhere without my phone or money, with a man who is almost as scary as he is good looking.
We drive several more yards before I see light ahead, realizing pretty quickly that it’s coming from a small little cabin tucked smack dab in the middle of the woods.
There’s a large building behind the house. A barn type structure, where a couple of cars are parked to the side of it.
He drives the bike under a carport next to the cabin and kills the engine. Neither of us are moving, but honestly at this point, I’m not sure that I can.
I’m cold. Stiff with fear.
“I need you to climb off first,” he finally grumbles when I still haven’t moved.
“I don’t think I can,” I admit, my voice barely breaking the surface.
Without a word, he maneuvers around me and climbs off the bike with little issue.
“Come here.” He reaches for me, lifting me under the arms.
Despite everything that’s happened tonight and where I find myself, I flush when he pulls me against his chest before he gently lowers me to my feet.
He smells incredible. Like outdoors and firewood. The combination is oddly soothing.
“Where are we?” I pull off the helmet and extend it to him before taking a step back. I cringe when I step on something small and jagged.
“My house.” He nods his head toward the front porch. “Come on, let’s get inside.” With that, he spins around and walks away, not waiting for me as he drops the helmet on the porch and pushes his way through the creaky screen door.
“What the fuck took you so long?” I hear as I step in behind him.
My eyes go to the man lounging on the couch, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. I’d guess he’s around the same age as the man who brought me here. His dark hair is shaved short and he’s got a full beard covering his face. It’s long enough that you can tell he hasn’t shaved for quite some time, but not so long that it looks unkept. And while he too has a number of visible tattoos, along with a small ring in the corner of his bottom lip, he’s nowhere near as intimidating as the man I rode here with. Then again, he’s not nearly as good looking either, which might play into the intimidation factor.
A quick smile tugs at his lips when he looks at me from his seat.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Little young for your taste, isn’t she?” His gaze goes to where my savior—or my capture—I’m not sure which yet, sits on the arm of the chair to kick off his boots.
“It’s not like that,” he grumbles. “She needed a ride.”
“And so you brought her here?”
“Where the fuck else was I supposed to take her?”
“I don’t know, maybe her house.” Chocolate brown eyes meet mine. “Excuse our bickering, puppet. T here has a habit of bringing home strays.”
“T?” I question, not sure what else to say and feeling increasingly more awkward by the second.
“You didn’t even tell her your name?” He pushes