Down and Out(10)

Loud banging jerks me awake. I stare at the stained roof of my car, disoriented, as someone pounds on the window behind my head.
“Open up, I know you’re in there.”
My heart jumps to my throat as it all but stops. Scrambling up, my blanket falls into the floorboard as I grab my purse, frantically searching for my little can of mace.
More pounding. “Open the goddamn door, Savannah.”
Wait, is that—
“Declan?” I lean over, peering through an uncovered sliver of space between the cardboard and my door, and catch a glimpse of tattooed muscle. Relief floods me, but it doesn’t last long.
What’s he doing here?
I pop the lock and open the door. “Declan, what’re you—”
“I knew it.” He’s shaking his head as he paces the length of my car, looking at some unseen point down the street. His jaw works under tense muscle as he grips his phone so tight that his knuckles start to turn white, and all I can do is stare up at him in confusion.
Why does he look so mad?
“I f*cking knew you were lying to me.” He stops and faces me, giving me a look so lethal I shrink back slightly. “Sleeping in your car, Savannah? Really? Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”
Oh, shit. “It’s not what it looks—”
“Do not lie to me!”
I flinch as his shout splinters through the quiet night, echoing off the dark, empty buildings. It’s a cowardly response and I’m silently berating myself for showing fear, but I’m not stupid enough to think he won’t hurt me. Declan’s essentially a stranger and I honestly have no idea what he’s capable of. What I do know is that he’s twice my size and could overpower me like I’m nothing more than a pillow.
“Jesus.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. After composing himself, he gets down on his haunches so he’s closer to eye-level with me. “I’m sorry, Savannah.” He’s calmer, quieter. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Some small, na?ve part of me wants to believe those beguiling green eyes looking at me so earnestly, but I know a beautiful face and hot body does not make you a good person. Pretty packaging can mask some of the worst kinds of ugly.
“Why should I believe you?” The words are quiet as they leave me, and I wish they had an edge of hardness or bitterness or something. Instead, they just sound small and helpless.
Quiet assessment from him as he stares me down, his eyes smoldering and intent, and I feel my icy exterior start to melt. How does a single look from him have this effect on me?
Before I can dwell on it, he stands and walks around to the back of my car, lifting the hatchback. I scramble out and stare at him incredulously as he pulls out my belongings. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting your stuff. You’re staying with me.” He says it without pausing, without even looking at me.
I make a surprised choking/laughing sound in the back of my throat and say, “No, I am most certainly not staying with you.” I’m fully grown and have been taking care of myself since I can remember. I don’t need Declan or his handouts.
Well, except for the job. I need the job.
He sets a laundry basket on the pavement and glances at me. “It’s either that or you make room for me in your car. Your choice.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. I think I’m struck stupid. “Why are you doing this?”
He glares at me. “Why am I refusing to leave an attractive girl alone in her car overnight? Gee, I don’t know. I must be some kind of *.”
Anger flares in me, and I’m thankful for the familiar emotion. Declan’s got me all mixed up, and I don’t like it. “Point made, *, but I’m not some stray cat you can just take in.”
A smile flirts with his lips as he nods to my pile of stuff. “Get your things, Kitten.”
My jaw clenches at his nickname. I don’t like it, not one little bit. “Don’t ‘Kitten’ me, you son of a—”
“This Kitten has some claws.” Declan smiles—a real, true smile that lights up his face and reveals a set of dimples I didn’t know he had. They’re perfect and cute, and they just piss me off even more.
“And this *’s full of shit,” I shoot back, crossing my arms as I glare at him.
Declan matches my stance. “This * is giving you a place to stay. So quit your bitching and follow me upstairs.” He stares down at me with a look that dares me to argue.
My mouth snaps shut and I blink. “I don’t need your help,” I say simply.
His face clouds over as he looks at the ground. “Everybody needs help now and then. There’s no shame in it.” He stacks two laundry baskets on top of each other, balancing them in one tattooed arm as he closes my trunk with the other.
“You’re really gonna make me stay with you?” I ask, disbelieving. “Even though I don’t want to.”
“Yep.”
I follow him across the street as he absconds with my things. “Some would consider that kidnapping, you know.”
When we reach the gym, he nods to a duffel bag on the ground. “Can you get that?”
I pick it up and he leads me up a flight of concrete stairs. At the door atop the stairs, he pauses.
“My keys are in my pocket. Mind digging ’em out for me?” He shifts the laundry baskets to expose the one closest to me.
“You want me to stick my hand in your pants and dig around near your crotch? Seriously?”