by Dylann Crush
Reagan closed the lid of the box and reached back to set it on the seat behind them. She held up the hot pink tee and let her gaze flick over the slogan on the front. “’This cupcake found her stud muffin in Nashville, Tennessee?’”
Zach’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Is that what it says? Darn, I thought I’d grabbed a plain one.”
She crumpled up the shirt and tossed it into the backseat. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d rather stick with the crabs.”
“Whatever you want, cupcake.” He slid his shades down over his face, but she spotted his laugh lines at the corner of his eye.
Reagan sighed and pulled her notebook out of her purse to fan herself. Twelve more hours. That would put them in Miami around four o’clock in the morning. Better line up the boat now. She pulled up the Internet on her phone and searched for a charter that could take her down the coast, far away from Zach Anderson, self-proclaimed stud muffin.
Zach stifled a grin and turned on the radio. He didn’t have to choose the obnoxious shirt, but damn, it felt good to unspool her a little bit. She was wound so tight. Reagan needed something to loosen her up. Or someone.
His hands gripped the steering wheel, causing his knuckles to go white. Obviously it wasn’t a task he would be up to. Actually, he’d be up to it, but it wasn’t worth the hassle of opening the wounds of the past. Yes, they’d dated senior year. And he’d been all-in on making it a long-term, long-distance thing, at least until Jimmy used those damn pictures to try to blackmail the senator and pulled Zach into the fray.
Zach denied having any involvement in the whole ordeal, but the senator didn’t care. He’d threatened both of them that if they ever went near Reagan again, they’d regret it. Jimmy didn’t take it seriously, he didn’t have to. But Zach’s dad was a government employee whose pension was the only thing he had going for him. Senator Campbell went so far as to imply if Zach didn’t break it off with Reagan, his dad would lose his pension along with the job he’d held for twenty-five years. So Zach did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life—he made up some story about how he didn’t want a long-distance relationship and let Reagan go.
Years later he realized Senator Campbell probably couldn’t have messed with his dad’s job. But by then it was too late. If they’d stayed together, Reagan sure as hell wouldn’t have a giant stick up her ass…he would have made sure of that.
He cast a side glance her way. Her fingers tapped non-stop over her screen.
“Figuring out last minute details?” he asked.
She didn’t raise her head. “Just lining up a charter to get me down the coast when we get to Miami.”
A charter. So the wedding was probably taking place on one of the many islands down in the Keys or off the coast. Damn. Good for her for coming up with such a private location. Bad for him if he wanted to stick with her. She didn’t seem to realize her slip up. Still hopeful he could satisfy Scazzoli with a shot of her dad and his possible mistress, he tried to pump her for a tiny bit more info.
“How far do you need to go? I can drive you down to the Keys if it’s easier to get a boat from there.”
“What?” She looked up, distracted.
“How far do you have to go in the boat to get to the island?”
Her fingers continued to tap on the phone. “It’s about a hundred and twenty nautical miles.”
Zach smiled to himself. Yep, definitely down in the Keys.
“Wait. I can’t believe what you do to me.” Reagan looked over at him, her eyes wide. “You can’t tell a soul. Promise?” Her hand clutched his arm.
“Who would I tell?” She relaxed her grip but before she slid free, he covered her hand with one of his. “Now let’s talk about this ‘what you do to me’ comment.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line then she opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out.
Zach let out a laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
She yanked her hand away and refocused her attention on her phone. One step forward and two steps back. That’s how it went with Reagan. Just when she started to give in a little, she pulled back twice as far.
All signs directed him to stay away, avoid the ice princess like the swarms of jellyfish he’d seen while scuba diving in the Bahamas. They were beautiful to look at from afar, but if he got too close, he’d find himself scraping a stinger off his skin or maybe even facing an injection with an Epi Pen. He’d only been stung once, barely brushed against a tiny moon jelly. But that was enough to make him cautious when diving. Maybe he ought to start calling her Jelly instead of Cupcake.
Reagan was just protecting herself. He understood her resistance to letting anyone get too close. He’d seen firsthand what kind of jerks people could be around her, always trying to get on her good side so they could get in tight with her dad. One of the guys he used to hang with in high school had asked her to the junior prom. Said he didn’t even like her, but his dad had paid him a hundred bucks to do it in the hopes he could get a private meeting with Senator Campbell to talk about some tax code he wanted changed. Zach had laughed when Reagan turned the guy down flat. She was good at reading people. Would she still be able to get a good read on him?
The dull ache throbbed again. Dammit. He shouldn’t let it get to him.
The photography job in Big Pine Key started on Friday. If he didn’t want to burn that bridge, he’d have to call and let them know if he wasn’t going to make it. That only gave him another twelve hours or so to figure out what he wanted to do about Scazzoli’s threat.
The pros and cons of taking the job battled back and forth in his head like an angry game of ping pong. True, she was a royal pain in his ass. But she had a lot on her shoulders right now. At least they were making progress. He’d get her to Miami and see how he felt then. No more distractions. No more detours.
Feeling more settled than he had since he first set eyes on her back in Chicago, he flipped on the radio and searched for something with a little rhythm. Something to distract him from the prickly blonde doing her best to ignore him in the low bucket seat to his right.
10
Reagan kept her eyes trained on her phone, although she’d stopped scrolling through pages of Miami charter boat rentals. How could she be so stupid to let the bit about the island slip? Even someone half-cocked could figure out she was headed somewhere down in the Keys. And Zach had never operated at half-cocked. She squirmed in her seat as she remembered how it felt to wake up next to him this morning. Fully cocked, for sure.
How easy would it be to give in to the attraction? Let everything go for an hour or an evening? She’d gotten so used to keeping the walls up, protecting herself from any perceived threat, that it had become second nature. Zach might have hurt her back then but they were kids. He was being a nice guy. She could trust him. He was safe.
Her eyes shielded by large, oval shades, she slid her gaze over to him. Large, capable hands wrapped around the steering wheel, thumbs tapping in time to the classic rock floating out of the speakers. The late afternoon sun glinted off his tanned forearms. A fresh pair of jeans encased his muscular thighs and an olive-colored T-shirt set off a deep, golden tan.
She inhaled deeply and let her breath out on a long sigh then peeled her shirt away from her skin, trying to get some air to her chest. Zach’s attention turned toward her and his damn, dark chocolate gaze melted against hers.
“Everything okay over there?” he asked.
She adjusted her butt in the seat. “Yeah. Fine.”
As if he knew what she’d been thinking about, his lips quirked in a half grin. “You sure you don’t want to change into a short-sleeve shirt? Looks like you might be getting a little warm.”
“It’s the car. Why do all of these muscle hot rods have black leather interiors?”
Zach shook his head. “Hot rod, huh? What kind of car are you driving nowadays?”
She opened her mouth to respond but he continued.
“Don’t say. Let me guess.” His ha
nd rubbed at the stubble on his chin.
She wanted to reach over and run her hand along his cheek. Instead, she shifted in her seat again. “Fine. Give it your best shot.”
“Can I have three questions?”
Reagan shrugged. “Sure.”
“Foreign or domestic?”
“Domestic.”
He smiled, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. “I should have known that one. Gotta look good for the lobbyists, right?”
“Whatever. What’s question number two?” she asked.
“Two door or four?”
“Four.”
Zach nodded. “Safe and practical. Probably could have called that one, too.”
She shifted in her seat to face him. “What’s wrong with safe and practical?”
“Sheesh, don’t get your polka dot panties in a wad over there.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed out a breath and turned her face toward the window. How dare he make judgments about her based on her car? Her trusty four-door might not be the raciest choice, but at least it got her where she needed to go. And it had a lovely, taupe interior. A much better choice on a warm, sunny day.
“Last question. Does your dad make your payments for you?”
Her head whipped toward him. “Hey. What kind of question is that?”
“Just asking. I know you’re tight with your family, and he probably wants to make sure you’re safe on the road.”
“For your information, I support myself, thank you very much.” Her dad hadn’t made her car payment since she left for college. He’d offered, but she wanted to make it on her own. The fact that Zach thought she would take handouts from her dad shouldn’t bother her that much. But it did.
“Sorry. I figured as his baby girl, he’d like to take care of you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”
He snorted. “Yep. You’re doing a great job. Lost your license, almost got arrested in Louisville. I can see why your dad doesn’t feel the need to get involved.”
What did he have against her dad anyway? As far as she knew, they’d never even met. She certainly hadn’t introduced him during the time she’d secretly dated Zach in high school. Although, most people had strong feelings about her father one way or another, even if they’d never been officially introduced.
Politics was a polarizing field, and she’d given up defending herself as a mere relation years ago. Now she’d let people say their piece, smile and nod, and go on about her business. But lately, her dad had been pressuring her to take a step back from her career and join his staff. With a probable VP bid, he’d be adding to his inner circle of trusted campaign warriors. Knowing how stressed she’d been with plans for Teddy and Cal, he’d given her until after the wedding to let him know if she wanted to take him up on his offer. As far as he was concerned, it was a done deal. She wasn’t so sure.
“Can we enjoy the scenery and forget about making conversation?” she asked.
“You got it, cupcake.” He cranked up the volume and tapped his fingers on the wheel.
“Stop calling me that,” she muttered under her breath. He couldn’t hear her, but it didn’t matter. If he knew it bothered her, it would only make him do it more. This whole trip was turning out to be a bad mistake.
She should have taken her Ativan and let her dad have Simon charter the tiny plane. The mere thought of being bounced around, high in the sky with no sense of control, made her break out in a cold sweat. Her arms wrapped around her middle, and she squeezed tight.
Zach reached out and turned the volume down, then rested his hand on her knee. A tingle radiated out from his touch. She resisted the urge to pull away and stared at his fingers, splaying over her jeans instead.
“Hey, sorry if I made you mad.” He shot a glance her way. “What I said, it was uncalled for.”
“Hmmpf.”
His hand squeezed her knee, sending the tingles marching right up her thigh toward her girly parts.
“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”
He put his hand back on the wheel. “That sounds well-rehearsed.”
“Old habits die hard. That’s what my parents always made Teddy and me say to each other when we were kids.” She glanced out the window. They were climbing now. Flat land had given way to a gradual incline, and the road twisted and turned ahead of them.
“Do you mind if we stop so I can stretch my legs for a minute?” Zach asked.
Reagan sighed. At this rate they’d never get to Miami. “Sure. I could use a bathroom break.”
He pulled off the highway at the next exit and took the turn toward Lookout Mountain. A mom-and-pop gas station sat on the corner, and Zach parked next to one of the ancient pumps. Reagan slid her feet back into her shoes and grabbed her purse from the floor.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room,” she said, exiting the car.
“Take your time. This pump looks like it’s going to be slower than molasses in January.” Zach fiddled with the gas pump, trying to figure out how to get it to turn on.
An attendant came out of the small metal building. Well-worn denim overalls covered his lanky frame and he held a toothpick in between his teeth. “Y’all need some help?”
Reagan passed him on her way into the store. “I don’t think he knows how to turn the pump on.”
“I’ll git it goin’. Oh, and if yer lookin’ for the bathroom, it’s ‘round back. Key’s on the hook inside, darlin’.”
“Um, thanks,” Reagan muttered and made her way into the building. It wasn’t much bigger than a shed. Three large coolers lined the back wall and a few racks of snacks took up the rest of the floor space. The key was just where he said…hanging on a hook by the counter. A long, rectangular piece of wood dangled from the end with Bathroom spelled out in black block letters. She snagged the key and walked out the front door.
A modern-looking outhouse sat behind the station. Reagan fit the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door into a tiny, single-stall bathroom. The stench of sewage hit her nose and she recoiled. Although she tried to take a step forward, her feet refused. Pinching her nose with her fingers, she backed out of the space, eager to return the key and find another restroom.
As she approached the car, Zach nodded and leaned against the bumper. The gas station attendant stood a few feet away, and they appeared to be deep in conversation.
Zach could schmooze with anyone. Male or female, it didn’t matter. Young or old. She’d seen him practically charm the pants off the waitress at the diner and manage to get the hulky guy on the plane to do what he wanted. Her dad should be trying to get Zach to join his staff, not her.
Reagan chuckled to herself at the thought of Zach in a suit and tie. He’d have to lose the leather choker and probably trim his hair. The scruff on his chin would have to go, too. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d make an easy transition to an office job.
“Cletus was telling me about a place not far from here where you can see seven states all at the same time.” Zach’s forearms crossed over his chest, looking like he was ready for a date, not like he’d been traveling for the better part of twenty-four hours.
“Oh, yeah?” Reagan offered Cletus a small smile as she opened the passenger side door, then turned her attention to Zach. “Maybe next time. We need to get back on the road, right?”
“Y’all should check it out. Only ’nother couple a miles up the road over there.” Cletus pointed a grease-stained finger toward the tree-covered hill. “Worth the drive and the hike.”
“Hike?” Reagan asked. “Oh, no. Definitely a big no.”
“You said it was more like a walk, though, right?” Zach asked.
“Well, um, sure. Not a bad hike. I mean, my granny went up there with us a week or so ago. She’s ninety-two.” Cletus leaned away and spit a stream of something brown toward a scrubby patch of grass.
Reagan shudd
ered. “Your, uh, granny, must be some kind of woman.”
Cletus smiled, revealing a tobacco-flecked grin. “Mmm hmm, still butchers her own hogs.”
“Wow, ninety-two and still butchers her own hogs. That’s really something.” Zach shot her a hell-that’s-impressive eyebrow raise. “If granny can do it, I bet you’d be up for it. She’s got, what, sixty-five years or so on you, right?”
“If y’all ain’t up for the walk, you can ride the train up the hill. Can’t see seven states but you can see six from where the train leaves ya, and it’s still a good view,” Cletus said.
Reagan leveled a heated gaze at Zach before sliding into the car. “Are you ready to go?”
“Where do you catch the train?” Zach asked.
She didn’t wait to hear the response, just yanked the door closed behind her. The gas pump continued to release the fuel, drip by painful drip, until Zach finally pulled the nozzle from the tank and hung it up. He signaled Reagan that he was heading inside and followed an ambling Cletus to pay. A minute later, he walked around the back of the building and disappeared.
She tapped her fingers on the center console while she waited. She hadn’t needed the bathroom so bad when they’d stopped, but now knowing that she couldn’t use the facilities, she felt like her bladder might explode. Why’d she have to be so picky? Finally, Zach rounded the corner, rubbing his hands together.
“What took you so long? I’m about to wet my pants.” Reagan squeezed her thighs together, trying to quell the rising need of her full bladder.
“I thought you used the bathroom?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me? Did you go in there? Smelled like someone died.”
“Hell, I opened the door and that was enough for me. Being a guy has its perks sometimes.” He eased the car away from the pump and gave a wave to Cletus, who stood in the window.
“I need a bathroom, like now, please.”
Zach gestured around the deserted road. “And where would you like me to go?”