Storm Warning - By Kadi Dillon Page 0,7

a scoffing sound that sounded more like a sniffle than a retort, but he didn’t comment. Her pride was already hurting enough, he figured.

“Of course you did. You knew my name without me telling you—which foolishly, I just realized—and you didn’t bother to give me yours.”

“You said you didn’t want to know my name,” he pointed out.

Her head whipped around and he knew he had said the wrong thing.

“How dare you throw that in my face?” Her voice was stronger now. “You—Mr. Wills—are an asshole.”

“And here I thought I was on my best behavior,” he said dryly. Under the glow of a street light, he saw the bruise on her cheek and wanted to turn the truck around. Vance was going to pay, he told himself. No man had any business physically abusing a woman.

“I guess I should congratulate you though. You did a wonderful job.” She held a hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes.

“A wonderful job with what?”

She laughed so hard that it shocked him.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped when she kept laughing.

“It’s just that—” She stopped to catch her breath and wiped tears of hilarity from her face. “It’s just that Vance was so angry… because he thought you were in to me! It’s really pathetic actually that I went through all this for nothing! Well, I hope you at least got your entertainment.” She took a deep breath and smiled at Gabe. “He may be amused by all this tomorrow. I sure am.”

She had a point. Vance had seen her dancing with him and had been jealous, which inevitably led to their fight.

“He beat the shit out of you and you’re amused?” he asked her coolly.

“Yes, I guess I am. He only got one hit, by the way.” She looked back out the window. “Vance can be a really nice guy. Adam hates him anyway.”

“Yeah, how nice of him to pound your face in, then try to kill your brother,” he commented dryly.

Tory cracked her window and settled back against the seat. The smell of rain came into the cab and the hum of the motor filled the silence.

“I don’t like you,” she whispered before her breathing became heavy and she fell asleep.

Chapter Three

Tory woke up to the mouth-watering aroma of something home-cooked. Her mama’s waffles, she thought and smiled in her sleep. She would put strawberries and whipped cream on them and they would fill her stomach for hours.

Tory rolled over on her back and stretched. Yes, she must be eight years old again. She was in a big, comfortable bed. She could stretch as far as she wanted and her feet wouldn’t touch the foot of the bed.

With a heavy, satisfied sigh, she forced her eyes open. The dream-like illusion vanished like smoke. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to clear them.

She was in a hotel room—a fancy hotel room with white walls, violet carpet, and big mirrors with beautiful wooden frames throughout the room.

She had on a t-shirt only, she realized. How did she get into that? And where were her clothes? She remembered how she had drunk excessively the night before. Then Vance.

Oh, God! Vance. She moaned as the pounding behind her eyes intruded. She rested her throbbing head in her hands and took a deep breath. Serves you right, Tory.

When she could see through the fog again, she slipped out of bed and spotted a tray with a silver dome cover in the middle of the dining table. She inched her way to it and lifted the lid.

Waffles. Her stomach growled. Beside the stack of crisp golden waffles was a bottle of aspirin. Adam? She looked down at the t-shirt that reached her mid-thigh and her eyes widened. The blessed fog that had been covering her brain finally cleared. And that left ugly, humiliating reality. It was Gabe’s shirt.

Ignoring the waffles, she crossed the room, yanked open the oak hutch and found her clothes neatly hung in a clear, plastic garment bag. She ripped it off and stuck them to her nose. To her annoyance and relief, they smelt fresh and laundered.

She walked into a bathroom—that was bigger than her bedroom growing up—and wished she could fill the gigantic tub to the rim and soak. Instead, she splashed water on her face, combed her fingers through her hair, and changed back into her own clothing.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, she thought she could have looked worse, considering. Deciding that was the best she could do and