Chloe Cole(5)

She was still trying to decide which would have been more terrifying, this truck ride or hitching a lift on a dragon, when he spoke again.

“Even if you knew about the road, you wouldn’t have made it far. Your kind might be fast, but without wings, Etienne or I would’ve gotten to you long before you reached the bottom either way.”

She wet her dry lips and nodded as her fingers tightened on her seatbelt. “Yeah, yeah, I believe you.” No point crying over spilt milk, anyway. And besides, she had a whole new set of worries. This truck ride might be the death of her after all. “Let’s skip the chatter and focus on the road…or whatever you want to call this passage of certain doom.”

His low chuckle should’ve annoyed her, but his apparent comfort behind the wheel actually calmed her some.

Still, by the time they reached the bottom and pulled onto the main road in the center of town an hour later, her fingernails had bitten half-moons into her palms, and her hands were numb from clenching them so tightly.

“You can breathe now,” Drake said softly. “And, for future reference, I used to race cars back in Scotland and am very comfortable behind the wheel. I would never intentionally put you in danger, Willa.”

His words sent an unwanted wash of warmth through her and she refused to meet his gaze. How screwed up was her life that her own parents cared nothing at all about her safety, yet the captor they’d all but sold her to was committed to it?

They continued to drive for another few miles down the one-stoplight street and parked in front of a quaint general store that looked like something out of Mayberry.

“Come on,” Drake said, turning off the ignition and popping his door open. “We’ll get you some clothes and then I’ll feed you a proper lunch.”

She let him lead the way into the place, but when they stepped through the door, Willa stopped short. She'd been in Montana her whole life, so the store itself wasn't all that strange, but the expression on the clerk's face when Drake walked in sure was.

The blonde behind the counter ran a hand over her perfect, shiny locks and literally beamed at him, big, Chiclet teeth flashing. Then, she noticed Willa standing beside him, and her cornflower eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Blackbourne! So nice to see you again. And is this your...sister?" she asked with a hopeful half-smile.

Willa flicked a glance to Drake and then back at Blondie, trying to suss out exactly what was going on. Drake seemed slightly uncomfortable, which had her wondering if maybe the woman was a former lover, but the fact that she'd called him "Mr. Blackbourne" made her question that theory. Maybe it was more of an unrequited crush?

Either way, a low-level sense of annoyance blossomed in her belly as she took in the clerk's young, lithe form. She looked like she'd been plucked off the pages of Sports Illustrated, Podunk Edition, with her trim waist wrapped in a checkered button-down that flashed a hint of navel when she moved. She was probably one of those irritating just-a-side-salad types who pretended carrots and hummus tasted just as good as chips and onion dip.

"Raina." Drake dipped his chin in greeting and then turned to Willa. "This is Willa.”

"His wife." She tacked the words onto the end of his sentence before she could stop herself. What the hell had made her say that? Her cheeks burned and she tried to block out Drake's slow grin in her peripheral vision, as she added, "For now, anyway."

Raina's perfect eyebrows collapsed into a puzzled frown. "For…now?"

Drake slipped an arm around Willa's waist and she barely managed to suppress the shiver of awareness that ran through her.

"Willa's cranky this morning because we’ve been cooped up with this weather. She's threatened me with divorce unless I got her out of the house today," he said smoothly.

Raina’s eyes took on a predatory glint as she nodded and tucked one of her golden locks behind her ear. "Oh. Well, nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackbourne. And if you do decide you’re sick of him, let me know. I’d be happy to take him off your hands."

She popped him a wink and sashayed out from behind the counter, pert bottom swaying. It took everything Willa had not to trip her when she walked by, which was petty, small-minded and so very sad.

Not qualities she strived to embody.

She forced herself to shove aside her traitorous emotions. She’d only known the man for a few days, and already he was turning her into a shrew. Drake didn’t belong to her. In fact, her singular goal in life was to escape him, and she couldn’t allow herself to forget that for even an instant.

"Check back next week. Odds are, he'll be all yours," she chirped after the girl, and pulled away from Drake to head toward the meager racks of clothes.