“What is this?”
“Since you’re over the age of sixteen, you’re required to sign an agreement for your non-foster living arrangement.” I signed on the line where she was tapping her fat, sweaty finger, but before I handed her back her clipboard, I noticed the line above where I had just signed had another freshly inked signature on it.
Jacob Francis Dunn was signed in bold blue letters over a line that read Signature of Legal Guardian of Minor Child.
There was not a lot in this life that confused me. I understood that, aside from myself, people were pretty black and white for the most part. But that paper was definitely the most confusing thing I had ever encountered.
I was pretty sure that the man with the beautiful blue eyes, the temper and the big sexy bike—the very man who I had heard getting sucked off in a junkyard little more than twenty-four hours ago, mere moments before he put a gun to my head—had just adopted me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN I WALKED BACK TO THE FRONT YARD with Miss Thornton, Jake was leaning against his bike, smoking a cigarette. His eyes followed me, his face completely unreadable.
He nodded to Miss Thornton as she got into her little silver car and started the engine. Then he passed me the helmet and got off the bike so I could get on first, just like we had done earlier. I stood starting at him open-mouthed for what seemed like an eternity before he gave me a you coming? look.
I placed the helmet on my head and straddled the bike, grabbing the bar behind the seat. Jake got on after me, and we started down the road. After only a few minutes, we pulled into the parking lot at Dunn’s Automotive Repair. Jake parked the bike at the end a small dirt driveway on the side of the building. When I took off my helmet, I discovered that Miss Thornton had followed us and was now parked behind Jake’s bike.
What the hell is going on?
Jake said nothing to me as he waited for Miss Thornton to get out of her car. When she met up with us, clipboard in hand, Jake led us down the side of the building on a small concrete sidewalk and to a dark wooden door, almost hidden between two overgrown potted palms. He unclipped a set of keys from his belt loop and unlocked the door, stepping to the side to let us both in.
Once inside I realized this must have been the apartment Jake had told me about when we met in the yard last night. It wasn’t shop-like at all. It was small and clean and cozy. The floors were a simple beige tile, the walls a creamy yellow. Off to the right was a small galley-style kitchen with plain white cabinets with little plastic dolphins for knobs. The appliances were small and white but looked fairly new. The counter tops were covered in small, dark blue tiles with thick white grout lines. There was an overhang on one side where two wooden barstools were tucked under it. Behind it was a small area that looked like it was designated for a dining room table but instead sat a small iron desk and a laptop.
Jake turned on every light switch he passed as he walked Miss Thornton through the apartment, but it did little to brighten the dark space.
There was another door through the kitchen, and Jake opened it for Miss Thornton. She disappeared inside and quickly came back out, scribbling furiously on her clipboard. I was standing in the center of the living room with my backpack still on my shoulders. Jake leaned against the counter as Miss Thornton ran down a list of questions. “Own or rent?”
“Neither. My father owns the automotive repair company, and I use the apartment while I’m in town.”
“How long are you in town for?”
“I’ll stay until Abby turns eighteen, but I do travel for my own work, so there will be times when I’m gone for a while here and there.” His answers were simple and direct. Miss Thornton nodded as they went along.
“I expect you to take this seriously, Mr. Dunn. Miss Ford is under your care now.”
“I take it very seriously, ma’am.”
She turned her attention back to me. “Your home seems to have only one bedroom. Where will Miss Ford be sleeping?”
“In my room,” Jake answered. He realized how that sounded when Miss Thornton looked at him suspiciously, and he quickly corrected himself. “Oh, no—not like that. The living room couch pulls out, so that’s where I’ll be.”
She nodded. “I assumed that with you being cousins and all that sharing a room is out of the question.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Jake flashed her a brilliant smile. He really could turn on the charm when he wanted to.
Miss Thornton seemed satisfied with his answers. She tucked her clipboard under her arm and turned to leave, informing us of a follow-up visit in the next few weeks. She smiled, opened the door, and disappeared into the bright light of day, leaving us alone in the dark apartment.