Page 45 of Bad Boy Crush

“I’m taking you home first.”

“But your project—”

“I’m taking you home. I know that’s where you wanna be.”

“But—”

“Lourdes.”

At his firm tone, she pressed her lips together. He pulled into traffic on Endless Avenue, thick thanks to the events downtown today. He had to slam on his brakes when someone backed out of a parking space in front of him. He swallowed a curse word, not wanting to stress Lou out any more than necessary.

“After this stoplight, we’ll be clear of most of these cars,” he said. Fat raindrops slapped the windshield. Her house was slightly closer to the bar than his anyway.

She chewed her lip and twisted her fingers. He figured talking wouldn’t distract her, so he untangled her fingers and held her hand. Her palm was clammy.

Concentrating on the road, he maneuvered out of the line of cars fleeing shops and restaurants and turned off on a side road. In her driveway, lightning split the sky behind her house. He pulled as close as he could to her garage and unbuckled his belt. Lou, almost the same shade of green as the sky, did the same.

“I’m coming inside!” he shouted over the noise of hail ticking off the roof of his truck.

She nodded. Then they both threw open the doors and made a run for the front door. Protected by the overhang, she punched in her code for the lock and let them inside. Hail and rain continued hammering the roof, but it was half as loud as it’d been in the truck. Water dripped off his arms, down his legs. He pulled off his hat and swept a hand over his damp hair, the air conditioning chilling his wet skin.

Waterlogged but beautiful, Lou let out a relieved laugh. “We made it.”

“Yeah. We did.”

“Towel?”

“I’ll live.”

She crossed the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “Beer?”

“I’m good.”

“Tea? Water? Anything?”

He crossed over to her and gently gripped her upper arms. She tipped her head back to look up at him, and he was pleased to see some of the fear had left her eyes.

“You. Safe.” He stroked her cheek. “That’s it. That’s all.”

* * *

In the past whenever her childhood fear of storms had made itself known, Liam’s reaction had been one of frustration.

If they were out to dinner with friends, he’d made a joke about how he had to get her home so she didn’t ruin her hair. She would have been embarrassed by that lie if she hadn’t been so relieved to go home where it was safe.

But Ant wasn’t frustrated with her. Nor had he accused her of being high maintenance. He’d simply said goodbye and then brought her straight home. And when she’d asked him what he wanted, he gave her the best answer.

You. Safe. That’s it. That’s all.

“There’s not a carving that needs moved into your shop, is there?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Ant, you didn’t have to—”

“I can stay as long as you like.” In demonstration of that promise, he hung his hat next to her purse on one of the hooks by the door.

Guilt ate through her stomach like acid. “I didn’t mean to take you away from your party. All your friends were there to celebrate you.”