Free Taking Him (Lies We Tell) by Jackie Ashenden Page B

Opaque. Like Hunter Chase.
    She only saw the surface of him, she realised. The mask he showed to the world. But the past couple of times she’d crossed the line, where she’d changed the relationship they had with one another, she’d caught a glimpse of someone else. Someone she didn’t know.
    “I thought I knew him,” she said softly, barely even aware she was speaking. “Maybe I don’t.”
    “You don’t, trust me. You can’t ever know someone completely.”
    But Ellie wanted to. Suddenly she wanted to know everything.
     
     
    Hunter was conscious of Ellie the moment she stepped into his workshop. But he didn’t look up, kept his attention on the seat he was trying to fit on the Norton. She didn’t say anything right away, only stood there, shifting on her feet as if she was nervous.
    “What do you want, sweetness?” he asked when she didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been to visit him in the workshop before. Not that he minded. The workshop was his escape, his way out of the endless thinking traps he tended to fall into if he wasn’t careful.
    “Um, I thought I’d let you know I’m home.”
    He stared at the bike’s black seat, tightening a few screws. “Did you get my message?” When he’d got home from work and she hadn’t been there, he’d picked up his phone and called her to see where she was. But she hadn’t answered.
    “Yes.”
    “So why didn’t you call me to let me know where you were?”
    Another scraping sound of her platform boots on the concrete. “Haven’t we had the conversation about me not being a kid, Hunter?”
    “You’re a guest in my home, Ellie. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
    “Fine. Whatever. I was with Kara, and then I went to a movie and I forgot to check my phone. No big deal.”
    Not to her. But to him it had been. He’d always been helpless against the instinctive worry for her, the need to know where she was. Partly because of the trust Vin had placed in him and partly because she was precious. Vulnerable and unprotected. And those who were vulnerable needed protection.
    “Flick me a text next time, okay?”
    “Sure. And I’ll be sure to do that when I’m in Tokyo too.”
    Her sarcasm cut like a knife, but he ignored it. Clearly she was in a confrontational mood again. Jesus, he wished she’d get over whatever it was that was bothering her so much.
    The sound of her footsteps came from behind him, the scent of her soft and close, and all his good intentions, the ones where he kept thinking of her in terms of the child she’d once been, went straight out the window.
    She felt hot. Wet. And she was trembling. All over. Her pulse racing against the press of his thumb…
    No. This shouldn’t be happening. He’d spent all day killing himself on site. Exhausting himself. Working out this need, the thoughts in his head. And he thought he was good. He thought he was fine. Until she came near him and then it all came crashing down. Christ, why couldn’t she stay in the box he’d put her in? Why did she insist on turning herself into someone else?
    Her footsteps came around the other side of the bike. “What are you doing?”
    “What does it look like?” He made some more adjustments to the seat, concentrating on that small task and not on her.
    She stayed quiet a moment, and he could feel her watching him. “You’re always making stuff. Building things. Why do you like it so much?”
    So he didn’t have to think about anything else. So he had something to concentrate on. Because it put more distance between him and his family. Because it helped him feel like he was moving forward, never back.
    “Because I like creating things.” A rote response.
    Ellie didn’t seem to pick up on it. She came a little closer, ran a tentative finger over the metal of the handlebars. “I create things too. I create worlds.” A small sigh. “But I suppose they’re more of an escape than anything else. Escapist fantasies.”
    Hunter still didn’t look at