She was quiet, but her hand hadn’t left my thigh, and the pads of her fingers might as well have burned holes through my jeans with the heat of just her touch.

When I pulled up in front of the small cabin, she turned to look at me, indecision lining her features.

“I need you to know something, and I need to know something from you before we go in there.”

As much as it would kill me for her to change her mind, I nodded, preparing myself to take her home instead.

“I don’t do this. I know that’s what girls who do this kinda thing say, but I need you to believe me when I say that’s the honest truth.” The vehemence in her tone underscored just how serious this was to her. “I’m not a whore or a slut or easy.”

“Stop,” I told her. “Just stop.”

Her red lips closed and she swallowed.

“I want you,” I said. “I wanted you the second you walked in that door. Why the fuck would I think badly of you when I’m in the same boat? No judgment necessary, okay? I believe you.”

She studied my face like she wasn’t sure if I was blowing smoke up her ass, and I truly wasn’t. Double standards were alive and well, but my perspective was a little different on the matter, given my father’s behavior.

“Okay,” she said with a nod.

“Now, what do you need to know about me?”

She stayed quiet.

“Ask away. Whatever you need.”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” Her brow furrowed, and I had a feeling her question was completely serious.

“No.” I shook my head as my laugh echoed in the cabin of the truck.

“Because if you are, I promise I’ll come back and haunt you for the rest of your life if you kill me. I might be little, but I’ll be full of rage.”

“I believe you,” I told her, the first smile in days tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I promise I’m not a serial killer. Shot a few deer in my day, and that’s it. You’ve got no reason to believe me, but you’re safe. Nothing is happening tonight that you don’t want or ask for.”

Her hesitation told me more than her words ever could. This was out of character for her. She didn’t go home with random guys from the bar. I was guessing, if she hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend, she probably wouldn’t have been at the bar.

“Good. I’ve been the queen of bad decisions in my life, and I don’t want this to be one of them.”

“You’re good. I give you my word as a—” I almost said Riscoff, but I stopped short.

Her brows went up. “Your word as what?”

“A man who would’ve been beaten for disrespecting a woman.”

It was the first thing that came to mind, and it was absolutely true. Commodore would kill me, and then my mother would bury me in the garden. That was one thing they both agreed on.