These people do not want to hear my problems though, so I’ll keep it light and figure out my shit.
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I flush, suddenly concerned that Cindy might fire me. I love working here. It’s the first place I’ve ever worked where I felt loved and accepted. Where I didn’t have to worry. Animals don’t judge me, and Cindy’s an amazing boss. Everyone who works here is friendly. I love it here. But I won’t make enough money to pay rent with this job alone.
I hate that three people are staring at me right now. Charles is not going to let this go. Cindy for sure will need details. And the new addition of Davis is not helpful. I know he’s a friend of Cindy’s though. She told me he would be coming in to upgrade the alarm system. I just hadn’t realized it would be today.
As I glance at each of their faces, I decide that Davis looks the most concerned, which is irrational since he’s just met me.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit, and meet Cindy’s gaze as she starts speaking. “You’re not in trouble, Britney. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Why couldn’t you go home?”
I shrug. “I could have. I just didn’t.”
Her gaze narrows. “You didn’t get evicted, did you?”
Davis takes a step closer. “There’s nothing in her car,” he points out.
Shit. Good point.
His brow is furrowed, and he sets one of his huge hands on the counter. “Was there a reason you couldn’t go home?” he asks me.
No one else seems to think it’s odd that this stranger is grilling me. Charles and Cindy are both watching me closely.
Davis lifts up his hands, palms out. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.” He offers a small smile. “It’s just in my nature to notice the small things. I’m in security. Sometimes the tiniest detail can mean the difference between life and death.”
I flinch. My heart is racing. He’s hit so close to home that I’m about to get emotional.
“Britney?” Cindy encourages.
I’m trembling, and I wrap my arms around me, realizing I’m not even dressed for working here today. I don’t have my polo with the shelter logo. I’m not wearing proper shoes. And shit, I don’t even have a bra on. This is what I wore to work last night before turning around and hightailing it out of the building without even starting my shift.
I draw in a deep breath, forcing my emotions in check. “It’s no big deal. I just got a little spooked at the club, so I left without saying a word to anyone. I wasn’t in the mood to face my boss if he came looking for me.” That’s putting it mildly.
Davis narrows his gaze again, making me even more nervous. “Why would your boss come to your apartment just because you left work?”
I shrug. “He’s pretty protective of his girls. Likes to make sure we’re all okay and stuff. It was just a possibility.”
“That sounds creepy, Britney,” Charles chimes in. “Please tell me that man hasn’t come to your place before.”
I shake my head. “No. Of course not.” I cock out a hip and clasp one elbow with my other hand, trying to look nonchalant. “He’s a good guy,” I say, though I realize now that’s a bald-faced lie. He’s not even close to good. I thought he was good. Until last night. Now, I’m…well, afraid to go home.
I don’t want to involve all these people in my problems, however. “Look, I’m not even dressed right. I’m just going to run home and change and I’ll be back when my shift starts.” I back up a few paces, nearly bumping into a chair in the waiting area.
Davis looks at Cindy.
She takes a step toward me. “I don’t like the idea of you going home. There’s more to this story.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Now that it’s daylight, I’m sure I was overreacting.”
“I don’t like it either,” Charles says. “Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days, Britney? My wife would love having you.”
I smile at Charles. He’s the kindest man I’ve ever met. So gentle and caring. The best guy for the job of night manager at an animal shelter. I’ve met his wife too. Abigail. Sweet round woman who likes to hug. Everyone loves her.
Charles’s phone pings and he pulls it out of his pocket. His grin stretches across his face. “Speak of my wife. Woman’s probably wondering where I am. Five minutes later than normal and she worries.”
Cindy smiles at him. “You go on home, Charles. We’ll figure this out.”
“Okay.” He turns toward me with a stern look on his face and points his finger. “You call me if you need a place to stay, you hear?”
“Yes. Thank you, Charles. I’ll be fine.”
Charles shakes Davis’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” He turns toward Cindy. “Be back later tonight.”
“Thank you, Charles.”
After Charles leaves, I realize Davis is staring at me, brow furrowed.
“I’m just going to run home for a few hours,” I tell Cindy.
“No.” Davis is shaking his head.
It’s jarring because I don’t know him at all. Cindy obviously knows him from somewhere, but his intensity and interest in my welfare is kinda over the top.
Cindy glances at him. She’s biting her lip. Distressed. I feel bad.
“Seriously. It’s no big deal,” I insist.
Davis nods at Cindy when her eyes go wider.
What the hell?
He turns toward me. “Can you work in what you’re wearing for today?”
“Well, I guess, but it’s not necessary.”
“Good. What time do you get off?”
I glance at Cindy. She’s flushed and breathing deeply.
Davis keeps talking. “I only need a few hours here this morning to get this job done, then I need to head to my office and take care of a few other jobs today. I’ll come back and pick you up. You can stay at my place for a few days until we sort this out.”
I gasp, my mouth falling open. “I couldn’t do that.”
His expression is stern. I’m guessing he’s not the sort of man you argue with. “Sure you can. My house is safe. Yours is not. And there’s no way I’d let you sleep in your car again tonight.”
“He’s right,” Cindy adds. “You’ll be fine in what you’re wearing for the day. Just be careful with those flip flops. If you need to go back into your apartment tonight to retrieve some things, Davis can go with you.” She turns toward Davis. “She gets off at four.”
Davis nods. “I’ll be here.” He points at me. “Don’t leave until I get here. Got it?”
So bossy. I flinch at his tone. I should probably tell him to fuck off. But the words won’t come out. There’s something about him that makes me want to trust him. Hell, there’s something about him that makes me want to throw myself at him. I’d like to feel those big hands running up and down my body.
I shiver and take a step back.
He’s still looking at me. Waiting for a response?
I wrap my arms around my middle. “Okay.” The thing is, he’s perceptive. I’m in trouble. He knows it. I don’t know how the hell he’s so astute, but he is. And the truth is I have no business going back to my apartment ever. The man is offering me a place to stay. I’ll take it. At least for a few days until I can figure shit out.
Chapter 3
Britney
I haven’t been this nervous in a very long time. Even though I grew up in the foster care system and I’ve seen things no kid should ever be exposed to. Even though I’ve been working as a stripper for a year and seen things most adults should never be exposed to.
Nothing compares to the nerves I feel as I step into Davis Marcum’s home. He picked me up at four o’clock like he’d said and hasn’t spoken more than a few words since then.
During the drive, he mostly brooded, his fingers clasping and unclasping the steering wheel.
When we arrived, he parked in the garage and closed it before we got out of his SUV. Not a random, run-of-the-mill SUV. This one is hu
ge. Black. Tinted windows. I half-wonder if it’s armored. It wasn’t easy climbing into it or getting back out. I’m lucky I didn’t fall on my face.
We’ve entered the kitchen. He hooks his keys on a board just inside the door and then turns to me. “I’ll show you around and then we’re going to talk.”
I swallow. I’ve been dreading this all day. Somehow, I suspect he’s going to manage to pull far more information out of me than I’m in the mood to share.
He motions for me to follow him. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I don’t have a guest room set up properly yet, but I do have furniture, and I had some more things you might need delivered during the day.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, feeling like I’ve really put this man out. A stranger, I remind myself.
I draw in a deep breath. Cindy knows him. She explained to me during the course of the day that he’s a good guy and I’ll be in excellent hands. She told me that she’s known him for many years, but they only recently reconnected when he moved to Seattle. He was in the Army and got out about six months ago.
He’s also a security specialist, and I gathered from her explanation that he doesn’t simply install personal alarm systems. He was doing Cindy a favor this morning. His agency handles much larger clients with serious needs for either personal or property protection.
In any case, his home is like a fortress. The alarm panel he disarmed to let us in and rearmed after shutting the door would keep out the Mafia. And he did it all with a tiny fob on his keychain. If I hadn’t been paying attention and hadn’t heard the beeping, I might not have noticed he even had an alarm system.
He ignores my contesting as I follow him.
His home is a modest one-story with a modern great room in mostly whites and stainless steel. The living room furniture consists of a black leather couch and armchairs that face an enormous flat-screen above a fireplace.
I follow him into a hallway on the other side of the great room. He points to each door down the hallway as he slowly moves. “Half bath. My office. Workout room. Empty room. Guest room. Master bedroom.” He stops at the one he’s told me is a guest room and pushes the door open.
When he flips on the light, I step inside and look around. It’s not what I was expecting. The furniture is white and honestly kind of feminine in my opinion. Not boxy. Ornate. There’s a dresser, a full-sized, four-posted bed, and a bedside table. Not much else.
He shuffles over to the bed, which I now see is piled with several packages. “I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I ordered several things. You can pick what suits you. I’ll send the rest back.”
My heart is racing as I approach. “You really didn’t have to do this,” I mumble. I’m shocked. Stunned, actually.
He meets my gaze and smirks. “It’s just bedding and towels. I was going to have to purchase this stuff eventually. I only moved here with the furniture. You can’t sleep on the bare mattress.”
I lick my lips and then take in all the packages.
He spreads out a pile of sheets. “What’s your favorite color?”
Suddenly, I notice the selection is kind of odd. It’s all pastel. Nothing bold. Not even white. Like he had no earthly idea what to get and just picked all the girly things. For me. For a guest who isn’t staying more than a few nights. It’s endearing in a way.
I surprise myself when I reach for the pink sheets. I’ve never owned anything pink. I’ve never owned anything very girly at all. Hell, I’ve seriously never owned much of anything, period. Not until I finally got a studio apartment a few years ago and frugally furnished it with whatever I could find at resale shops.
He hands me the pink package and stuffs the others back in the bag before reaching for the pile of comforters. “Again, I wasn’t sure. You want the matching pink one?” He snags it from the bulky group.
“Sure,” I whisper. My heart is racing. I don’t even know myself. I’ve been kind of a tomboy. Except when I’m stripping, of course. I don’t know the woman who is selecting the pastel pink bedding for this white furniture.
He jams the other colors into a larger shopping bag and sets the two bags over by the entrance to the room. That leaves towels and wash clothes and bathroom rugs.
“They didn’t have solid pink in bathroom supplies.” I can’t quite read his voice. Half joking. Half serious? And his expression is equally confusing. He rifles through the pile and chooses something. When he holds it up, he says, “How about this? It’s partially pink.”
It’s a set of white towels that have a pink ruffle along the ends. It looks like something either a grandma or a young girl would own. Hell, that describes the entire room. “That’s fine,” I manage to murmur. “But seriously…”
He puts a finger on my lips. “Don’t say it. Enough arguing. It’s just bedding and towels. Not a big deal. Done.” He points to a door on one wall. “Bathroom’s over there. It’s attached. You’ll have privacy in here.”
I nod. “Thank you.” I don’t point out that I’ve never in my life had this much space. My studio apartment isn’t even as big as this one-bedroom/bathroom combo. I’ve also never had furniture as nice as this ornate white set, and certainly not with any two matching pieces.
He pulls out a pink bathroom rug and then sweeps the rejected remainder into yet another bag before nodding toward the bedroom door. “Come on. Let’s talk.”
I follow him, dreading this conversation. My head is spinning from the oddest ten minutes of my life and now I’m going to have to reveal a few things I’d rather not discuss.
Davis doesn’t seem like the kind of man you lie to. Nor does he seem like he will accept half a story. He’s not going to get the entire thing out of me though. Right?
He points at the couch. “Sit.”
I drop down in the exact spot he’s indicated, watching his huge frame as he heads for the refrigerator. He returns moments later with two bottles of water. After handing me one, he speaks again. “We’ll get dinner in a bit, but I want you to tell me exactly what’s going on first.”
I sigh and look down to fiddle with the plastic wrapper on the water bottle.
He drops down onto the coffee table, facing me, inches away.
I lift my gaze, surprised by his choice of seating. Yeah, he’s intense.
When I don’t speak, he starts for me. “So, you were working at the Sky Lounge. How long?”
“A year.” That’s an easy question.
He nods. “Were you a dancer?”
I flush and look down. “Yes.”
He lifts my chin with two fingers and meets my gaze. “No reason to be embarrassed. Not judging you. Just trying to understand.”
I swallow. There is no way to avoid the embarrassment. I’m a stripper.
“Why do you have two jobs?” he asks.
I draw in a breath. “I started working at the shelter recently. I really would have liked to be able to quit at the Lounge, but the truth is that I can’t make that kind of money doing something else.”
He frowns. “Why work at the animal shelter at all if you weren’t going to quit the Lounge? You’ve got to be exhausted. When do you sleep?”
I sigh and offer him a partial smile. “I sleep a few hours in between each job.”
“And my first question?”
I draw in a breath. Might as well just tell him the honest truth. “I was losing myself at the Lounge. I wanted to do something during the day that made me feel more…real. Something where I would interact with regular people who aren’t there to, uh…” I shouldn’t have said that much.
“To what, Britney?” He leans closer, his elbows on his knees.
I lift my gaze. “To stare at my tits and drool. Happy?”
He closes his eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You asked.”
He reaches out for one of my hands and clasps it in his. It happens so fast that I think he shocked himself. He strokes the backs of my knuckles tenderly and then releases
me. Sitting up taller again, he continues, “So what happened last night?”
I run a hand through my hair and tuck it behind my ear. “I went in at my regular time to get changed and ready to work, but as I was heading to the dressing room where all the girls get fixed up, I heard my name coming from my boss’s office. I should have kept going, but something made me hesitate. I stood silently in the hallway and listened to my boss talking to another man.”
I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory and shudder deeply.
Davis sets his hand on my arm and strokes gently. “It’s okay. You’re totally safe now. Go ahead.”
Am I? I don’t think so. “I didn’t like the way they were talking about me. Freaked me out. So, I backed up silently and left the building. I was too shook up to go back to my apartment, and the next thing I knew I was in the parking lot of the shelter. Seemed like my best option until I could think and regroup.”
He nods and gives me a few moments to draw in several deep breaths. “What did they say, Britney?” His voice is kind but firm.
I flatten my palm on my forehead, my stress level rising. “Surely I’m overreacting and I misunderstood.”
“Britney…” he warns. His voice is softer when he speaks again. “What did they say, sweetie?”
I look at him. Why is he being so nice? His gaze is intense. Deep brown eyes stare back at me. Somehow, I know I can trust this man. Somehow, I know he won’t laugh at me or tell me I’m crazy. I draw in a slow breath. “My boss was telling the other man…” I just can’t get the words out. I don’t want to speak them out loud.
Davis slides his hand down my arm to clasp mine again. He holds it against my thigh and waits.
I find the strength. “He said he had a buyer…” I swallow, that word stuck in my throat, blocking me from continuing.
“A buyer for what?” Davis asks gently.
“Me.”
Davis stiffens. He doesn’t even blink for a long time.
Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) Page 2
