Read Online The Way Home (Chasing #3) by Linda Oaks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Oaks
Tags: General Fiction
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asked, and I turned around to find her standing right behind me.
“Your ex knifed my tire. I guess he’s not called blade for nothing. I suggest you get your ass in the truck and on the phone. Call Sierra’s school while I change this tire. Make sure she’s all right. Then we’re going by your place to pack a bag.”
Miley eyes widened. Her brow knitted in confusion. For a second, I temporarily forgot my frustration and was momentarily distracted by her lips. “Why am I packing a bag, Nate?” she asked curiously. I heard the warning tone in her voice but decided to ignore it. Instead, I opened my truck door, grabbed the spare shirt I kept hidden behind the seat for emergencies and yanked it over my head. I shut the door and turned.
“Why do you think?” I grumbled and walked past her. She was as aggravating as shit. I was pissed as hell. I didn’t mean to be such a prick, but there was only so much I could take. First, I was angry over what had happened to her. Secondly, I was angry because that the son of a bitch had gotten away, and lastly, I was angry over my truck. This day just kept getting fucking better and better by the second.
“You listen here, Nate Lucas. I am not your problem.”
Her voice had this funny little way of rising on each word she spoke. She was right on my heels and livid. The sight of Miley pissed reminded me of an angry hissing kitten. I didn’t need this shit but trouble seemed to follow me around, and right now all five-foot-six-inches of it stood behind me, probably glaring at my back. It was obvious she had no one else to turn to. Like it or not, I was it. I was stuck with her. There was no way in hell I was allowing her and Sierra to stay by themselves after what had just happened. If Miley Triton thought differently, she had another thing coming.
Leaning over the side of the truck bed, I tried my best to ignore her and opened the tool box, grabbing a jack and a tire iron from inside. I wasn’t joking when I said she needed a keeper. The Retribution MC were bad news and not to be messed with. She was in over her head, and I was her lifejacket, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was stubborn and obviously didn’t realize she needed me. Besides, her ex already knew what she drove, and more than likely, he knew where she lived.
When I turned around, I almost plowed into her. She took a step back then raised her hand and pointed a finger hard in the center of my chest. Thank god, she hadn’t smacked me. The touch of that single fingertip shot a current of need straight to my groin. Even a pissed off Miley managed to turn me on.
“I,” she said loudly, poking my chest once more. “Am. Not. Your. Problem.”
“But you are,” I said casually and walked around her dropping down on one knee to look up underneath my truck. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Shit, my big ass would be lucky to fit underneath there!
She stood hovering over me. I fought against the urge to grin as I laid down on the ground. I’m hoping she won’t give me a swift kick to the ribs. She was madder than a wet hen.
“Did you hear what I said?” she demanded, her prissiness level now at an all- time high. While the thought of picking up this distracting, aggravating bundle of female and slinging her into the truck did cross my mind, I decided against it. She’d already been manhandled enough for one day.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I focused on loosening the bolts holding the spare in place. Just like a little teapot, hopefully soon she’d lose her steam.
“Ugh!” She stormed, then stomped away. My lips curved into a grin. “You’re such a jackass!” I heard her yell.
I snorted, loosening the last bolt that was holding the tire in place. Was that the best that she had? I’d been called far worse before, and coming from her it actually sounded more like a compliment rather than an insult. It was good to know she was obviously feeling better, and more like the Miley I
“Your ex knifed my tire. I guess he’s not called blade for nothing. I suggest you get your ass in the truck and on the phone. Call Sierra’s school while I change this tire. Make sure she’s all right. Then we’re going by your place to pack a bag.”
Miley eyes widened. Her brow knitted in confusion. For a second, I temporarily forgot my frustration and was momentarily distracted by her lips. “Why am I packing a bag, Nate?” she asked curiously. I heard the warning tone in her voice but decided to ignore it. Instead, I opened my truck door, grabbed the spare shirt I kept hidden behind the seat for emergencies and yanked it over my head. I shut the door and turned.
“Why do you think?” I grumbled and walked past her. She was as aggravating as shit. I was pissed as hell. I didn’t mean to be such a prick, but there was only so much I could take. First, I was angry over what had happened to her. Secondly, I was angry because that the son of a bitch had gotten away, and lastly, I was angry over my truck. This day just kept getting fucking better and better by the second.
“You listen here, Nate Lucas. I am not your problem.”
Her voice had this funny little way of rising on each word she spoke. She was right on my heels and livid. The sight of Miley pissed reminded me of an angry hissing kitten. I didn’t need this shit but trouble seemed to follow me around, and right now all five-foot-six-inches of it stood behind me, probably glaring at my back. It was obvious she had no one else to turn to. Like it or not, I was it. I was stuck with her. There was no way in hell I was allowing her and Sierra to stay by themselves after what had just happened. If Miley Triton thought differently, she had another thing coming.
Leaning over the side of the truck bed, I tried my best to ignore her and opened the tool box, grabbing a jack and a tire iron from inside. I wasn’t joking when I said she needed a keeper. The Retribution MC were bad news and not to be messed with. She was in over her head, and I was her lifejacket, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She was stubborn and obviously didn’t realize she needed me. Besides, her ex already knew what she drove, and more than likely, he knew where she lived.
When I turned around, I almost plowed into her. She took a step back then raised her hand and pointed a finger hard in the center of my chest. Thank god, she hadn’t smacked me. The touch of that single fingertip shot a current of need straight to my groin. Even a pissed off Miley managed to turn me on.
“I,” she said loudly, poking my chest once more. “Am. Not. Your. Problem.”
“But you are,” I said casually and walked around her dropping down on one knee to look up underneath my truck. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Shit, my big ass would be lucky to fit underneath there!
She stood hovering over me. I fought against the urge to grin as I laid down on the ground. I’m hoping she won’t give me a swift kick to the ribs. She was madder than a wet hen.
“Did you hear what I said?” she demanded, her prissiness level now at an all- time high. While the thought of picking up this distracting, aggravating bundle of female and slinging her into the truck did cross my mind, I decided against it. She’d already been manhandled enough for one day.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I focused on loosening the bolts holding the spare in place. Just like a little teapot, hopefully soon she’d lose her steam.
“Ugh!” She stormed, then stomped away. My lips curved into a grin. “You’re such a jackass!” I heard her yell.
I snorted, loosening the last bolt that was holding the tire in place. Was that the best that she had? I’d been called far worse before, and coming from her it actually sounded more like a compliment rather than an insult. It was good to know she was obviously feeling better, and more like the Miley I
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