“Sure.” I smile.
“Here, Dozer.” She pats her leg, holding out the rest of her waffle to him.
Dozer is over there quick flash. Taking the waffle, he swallows it whole, then lays his head on her knee, gazing up at her for more.
And that’s how the rest of breakfast goes. Dozer having Mia’s full attention while she continues to feed him her breakfast, in-between feeding herself.
And I sit here watching. Like the third fucking wheel.
Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I’m getting cock blocked by my dog. Dozer and I are going to be having a serious man to man chat.
I’m feeling pretty relieved that we’ll be out of here soon, and I’ll get to have a little one on one time with her.
Yes, I’m completely aware of how pathetic I sound. You don’t need to tell me.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Mia says, wiping her mouth on a napkin. “It was delicious.” She rises from her chair, handing me her plate. I put it on the tray.
“Are you sure you’ve eaten enough? Dozer had most of it.” I nod at him, passed out on the floor, content with all the food he’s had from her.
“I’m good.” She presses her hand to her stomach indicating that she’s full.
I don’t know how she can be after the small amount she ate, but then she is only a tiny thing.
“You want a hand clearing away?” she offers.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just dump them in the kitchen and wash them later. You ready to head out for Farmington now?”
She pauses by the chair, her fingers gripping the edge of it. “Sure.” She smiles.
It’s one of her forced smiles. I’ve gotten pretty used to recognizing them over the last couple of days.
I lift the tray, balancing it on my forearm. “We can go later if you want?”
She contemplates this for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. We should go now.” Her eyes meet mine. “If I don’t, I’ll chicken out.”
Chapter Twelve
Mia
“My car or yours?” Jordan asks.
I look between his Mustang and my Mercedes.
The Mercedes that Oliver bought me two years ago. The day after he’d broken my arm.
Apparently he didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident.
It didn’t feel like an accident.
The car was supposed to be an apology.
All it did, all it does, is remind me of my weaknesses. Remind me of my life before now. Of every single beating before and after it.
It reminds me of him … them.
“Yours,” I reply. “If that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” Smiling, Jordan pulls his keys from the pocket of his jeans.
“I’ll pay for gas,” I say as I walk toward his car. I don’t want Jordan to think I’m taking advantage of his kind nature.
He stops by the hood, the smile quickly changing to a frown. “No way.” He shakes his head.
“Of course I’m going to pay for the gas you’re using to do me a favor.” I open the door and slide onto the leather seat.
The car dips as Jordan folds his tall, lean body into the car. “No way. I’m not taking any money from you for gas. End of.” His tone is forceful.
Instinctively, my shoulders pull in. The feeling of defeat washes over me.
Then out of nowhere, something spikes in me. Adrenalin floods my bloodstream, kicking my senses to life.
I know it’s only a small thing, and I know Jordan is trying to be kind in his own way … but I’m really tired of men telling me what to do and how things are going to be.
And I’m even more tired of the fact that I let them.
Well, no more.
I open the car door, climb out and shut the door behind me—a bit too hard—and head toward my car.
I know it looks like I’m overacting, but I’ve spent my whole life under-reacting. I need to start behaving like the woman I want to be, and this is me starting. Maybe it’s not the right way, but I’m new to this, and apparently my words don’t seem to work with Jordan, so I’m trying actions.
I hear his door open, and the sound of his confused voice follows me. “Mia, are you okay?”
“No.” I toss the word over my shoulder.
My body is trembling with nerves, but I hold firm.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds worried. I hear his door shut on a clunk.
I turn as I walk. “You. I don’t do well being told what to do.”
Wow. I can’t believe I just said that! That was awesome!
Face forward, I keep heading for my car.
“Okay…” He sounds confused. “And where are you going?”
“To Farmington. Alone.”
I hear his frustrated growl, then the sound of jogging footsteps over gravel heading my way.