I decided to let my presence be known. As I entered the office, I cleared my throat, causing her to jump, yet again. She stood, wiping at her eyes quickly, before clearing her throat. “I thought everyone left?”
“Forgot my keys,” I said as I grabbed them off the desk and dangled them for proof. “You okay?” I asked. Maybe I didn’t like her. Maybe I didn’t want her there, but I’m not a complete tool. I hated to see a woman cry. Especially one that had so much fierceness to her. Wild animals aren’t meant to be broken. And neither was she.
“I’m fine.” She grabbed her purse, and met me at the office door. I flipped the light off as she passed by me and headed up front. As she locked the front door, I had to ask one more time. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Paul,” she sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face and pushing it behind her ear. “I appreciate you asking, but we both know you don’t give a shit about me. Let’s not pretend.”
I groaned through clenched teeth in annoyance. “I may not like you,” I clarified, “but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer.”
Shaking her head, her mouth quirked up in a sad smile. “I’m fine. Have a good night.”
She hurried to her car and climbed in. When she started her vehicle, the engine groaned in protest before it sputtered out. She turned it again, but this time it didn’t even attempt to cut on. With her doors and windows closed, I couldn’t hear her, but with the well-lit parking lot, I could read her mouth when she said, “Fucking piece of shit.”
Thudding her head against the steering wheel, her shoulders rose as she inhaled deeply. Damn. She was going to need a ride. More alone time with her. Great. Just great.
I decided to give her a minute, knowing she’d get out of her car at some point and ask me for a ride. But she didn’t. When I got tired of waiting, I gave her passenger side window an aggressive rap to get her attention. Cutting a sharp glance to me, she mouthed, What?
I glared at her. She wasn’t my favorite person in the world either, but I was willing to give her a ride and this was how she acted?
“I’m leaving. If you need a ride, I suggest you move your ass.” With that, I went to my truck and climbed in, giving the door a hard slam. Still, she didn’t budge. Shaking my head, because, unbelievable, I fired up my truck and put it in drive. At the sound of my engine, she hopped to and got out of her car. But she didn’t rush. In fact, I think she forced herself to move slower as she locked her car, then walked across the parking lot. Like I said, unbelievable. This chick had balls. I wanted to laugh and strangle her simultaneously.
Opening the door, she climbed in, and slammed the door, clearly imitating me.
“Take it easy on my baby,” I jested, trying to lighten the mood.
Crossing her arms and letting out a huff, she pointed and murmured, “That way.”
Shifting the truck into drive, I mumbled to myself, “That way.” Even my mocking was high-pitched. For the next ten minutes we rode in silence with the exception of Clara directing me. When we finally reached her house, I didn’t throw her out like I wanted, instead I parked, leaving my headlights on as I surveyed the property. The place was a shithole. The yard was overgrown; the grass looked like it hadn’t been cut in ages, and one of the front windows had a cardboard box taped over it, possibly meaning broken glass was the culprit.
“You’re living here?” I probed in disbelief. “By yourself?”
Clara opened her door as I cut the ignition. “Yes. By myself.” Sliding out, she huffed deeply. “Thank you for the ride.”
I opened my mouth to respond when the sound of glass breaking sounded out, causing her to jerk her gaze to the house.
“What was that?” I asked as Clara narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled as she dug through her purse, retrieving a large revolver.
My eyes widened. What the fuck? “You carry a gun?”
She didn’t look at me as she popped the chamber open, spinning it, before popping it back in place. Damn. My dick twitched a little. She handled the weapon like a pro, it was sexy as hell. “Sure do.” Without another word, she left the truck door open and made her way toward the house. I hopped out of the truck and rushed beside her, refusing to look like a * by letting her enter the house alone.
“You can go, Paul. I have this.”
“What if someone is in there?”
“If someone is, they’ll be sorry,” she replied as she took the first step to the porch, which groaned in protest from her weight. Her face tightened and she winced at the sound, fearing it alerted anyone that might be inside to her approaching. I followed behind her, the stairs creaking loudly with my additional weight. Her hand, the one not holding the gun, had just found the doorknob when I took the final step onto the porch. At that exact moment, as she opened the door, I fell through the porch floor, the aged and weak wood having given out from under me.