Chapter 3
Once Winnie skipped off, it was just me and Ethan.
I sat on the edge of the bed, wringing the hem of my dress, too scared to look at him.
“Was it you who… saved me? Thank you.”
His voice was deep and rough, like whiskey soaked in gunpowder.
“No big deal. Where’s home? I’ll take you back.”
Just the word “home” made me gag.
That creepy old man’s face flashed before my eyes.
I looked up at Ethan. He was sweaty, sunburned, rough from work.
But damn if he wasn’t the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
I reached for his arm, desperate.
“Please don’t take me back. My father’s selling me to Old Hank. I can wash your clothes, I can cook—I’ll take good care of you.”
That last line? Something my father said to Hank, like I was a damn puppy.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed on my pale hand clutching his sun-browned arm.
“You…”
Before he could finish, I rushed out:
“Do you have a wife? If not—I could be her. Just don’t send me back.”
He swallowed hard, eyes still locked on my hand.
“…I’ve got a daughter.”
I tilted my head. “I don’t mind.”
A long pause.
Then he pulled his arm away gently.
“You can stay. For now.”
