Dax stared at the sky. A puffy white cloud was its sole occupant, aside from the sun. That celestial object had started its descent toward the horizon, a reminder that daylight was burning and he was on a schedule. “Look, I’ll call a cab for you. I’ll even pay—”
“No, thanks.” She shook her head, and the waterfall of curls shimmered in the light. “Besides, why waste money on a taxi when we’re going the same way?”
“You must have family who can help you if you want to move.” The Bluetick nudged Dax’s hand with his cold nose. Dax bent for his collar, but the hound took off at a sprint toward the tree line. Perfect. “Why don’t you ask them for a ride?”
“My parents live in a Winnebago. I’m not sure what state they’re in today.” She handed him the leashes to the dogs she’d captured and took off after the Akita, which was rolling in the dirt nearby.
“Siblings?” he yelled after her.
“Nope!”
Dax rubbed his forehead. It was beginning to throb. His dad had taught him to be a gentleman. He couldn’t leave a woman alone on the side of an interstate. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t picked up hitchhikers before. But those people had asked for a ride, not stowed away in the back like fugitives. He was getting a bad vibe from this chick. And no matter how beautiful she was, he couldn’t let his hormones override his good sense.
“How about friends?” he shouted. “You must have friends you can call.”
She dove for the dog, missed, and landed on her butt. The Akita trotted up to check on her and she snapped on the leash. “Other artists,” she called back. “Complete flakes.” Standing, she brushed grass off her behind and sauntered back toward the van. Her blue jeans were molded to her hips, and each step she took toward him was a seduction.
He swallowed, trying to bring moisture back to his mouth. Dragging his gaze up to her face, he met her mesmerizing eyes. The irises were an intense blue near the pupils, almost electric, and faded out to a sultry gray. That didn’t help his resolve. He gave it one last try. “Look, I’m not a taxi service. I don’t pick up strays unless they’re of the four-legged variety.”
She arched a dark eyebrow and gave him a smile worthy of the Sphinx. “Well, then, consider me your latest rescue.”
Chapter 2
The pounding rhythm vibrated through her veins. Lissa lifted her arms to the ceiling and swung her hips to the rockabilly beat. Aside from painting, there was nothing she loved more than dancing. She spun, her hair swinging over her bare shoulders, and felt a moment of absolute independence.
She was free. Finally. Working for the Sam Morris Gallery on commission had been stifling. Everyone still wanted blue dogs, red cats, yellow birds, or whatever the heck else tourists thought they needed to buy in New Orleans. It had drained her creativity. And her bank account. She still couldn’t believe the jerk had been ripping her off.
She pounded the heels of her sandals into the worn wooden floor of the honky-tonk and let the irritation drain away. It didn’t matter anymore. She’d reclaimed what had been taken.
A set of hands gripped her hips from behind, and Lissa raised an eyebrow. So, the stick-in-the-mud had decided to come out of his cave. After walking all the dogs, Dax had stomped into the room next to hers at the Hideaway Motel and shut the door. Firmly. She’d shouted that she was going across the street for a burger and a beer but had only heard dogs barking from his room in response.
It was like the man was unhappy a woman had hopped into the back of his van. Wouldn’t most guys accept their luck and roll with it? Well, if Dax had come out to dance, maybe he’d decided to lighten up.
She turned to face him and looked up with a smile. Which quickly crashed. The man leering down at her wasn’t the cute ginger she was expecting. Stepping back, she wagged a finger at the stranger. “Most men at least ask to buy me a drink before they try to touch.” Giving her a ride to her new life was an acceptable substitute. “Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?”
Shuffling forward, he reached for her again. He flashed a tobacco-stained leer at her, and her stomach rolled. “Just wanted to keep you company,” he said. “You looked lonely out on the dance floor all alone.”
The song ended and a ballad with a slow beat came over the speakers. Nope. She didn’t even want to shake it with the guy to a club beat. No way was she doing a slow song. “I’m never lonely,” she told him, and turned to leave.
He grabbed her wrist. “Now, come on. I think they’re playing our song.”
Irritation flushed through her body, raising her temperature. And loosening her tongue. “I wouldn’t share a song with you if you were the last man in Memphis.”
His fingers tightened as his eyes narrowed.
Good. Let him experience some of her annoyance. It seemed only fair.
“Take your hand off her.” The voice was low, dangerous, and if Lissa hadn’t seen the flash of auburn hair next to her, she wouldn’t have believed it came from the same sweet, flustered man who had been too nice to kick her out of his van.
A hank of that glorious hair fell in front of one of his eyes, making Dax appear even rougher. “I won’t tell you again.”
Lissa looked between the two men. Dax was tall, over six feet, and had a couple of inches on her wannabe dance partner. But the other dude had mass over Dax’s lean form. Things could get ugly, and she was standing in the middle. “Now, boys, no need to get your feathers ruffled. My dancing feet are tired anyway, and I’m going to go finish my meal.”
The man slowly eased his grip and dropped her wrist. “Shit song on now anyway.” With a chin bob to Dax that conveyed something in the language of men Lissa didn’t understand, he turned and stomped away.
“You okay?” Dax asked.
“Sure.” She lifted her shoulders. “Just another pushy guy. No biggie.”
“A man grabs you, it’s a big deal.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Grandpa. Really, how old are you, Dax? That’s how people our age act. Chivalry’s been dead for many a moon.”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “Look … You know what?” He blew out his cheeks. “It’s not my business. You can do what you want.”
“Well, what I want is to finish my dinner.” She grabbed his hand with both of hers and took a step backward. “I’ve got a table near the window. Let’s get you some food, too. My treat.”
He dug in his heels. “I already have a spot. And my own burger.” He jerked a thumb at the bar.
She drew her eyebrows together. “But … you must have known I was already here. Why didn’t you come sit with me?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I just wanted a quick bite and then I have to get back to the dogs. They might tear the room apart before I get back.”
“You didn’t want to eat with me?” She was being snubbed by a Boy Scout whose only companions were a pack of dogs? Laughter burbled out of her. “Now I know you’re an old fogie trapped in a cutie’s body.” She changed direction and tugged harder, determined to spark some life into the poor guy. He stumbled after her to the bar. She kept hold of him with one hand and picked up his plate of food with the other. “Come on, I won’t bite.”
He stared at the exposed beam above his head and muttered something under his breath.
“I’ll even buy you something sweet afterward,” she coaxed. Listening to Dax grumble was loads more entertaining than people-watching. And getting him to smile would be her own sweet treat. Besides, she wanted to know more about the man who’d saved her from Tweedledee, Tweedledum, and Tweedledumber back in New Orleans. Dax hadn’t known he was saving her, but the fact remained.
She put her weight into pulling him toward her table, and with a sigh, he picked up his mug of beer and trailed after her.
After he sat across from her, Lissa started her interrogation. “So, what’s it like being
a dog rescuer?”
“A dog rescuer?” He shook his head and picked up his half-eaten burger. “I don’t think that’s a job title. Besides, working at Forever Friends, the dog shelter in Crook County I’m heading to, is only a volunteer gig. I’m an adventure guide for an eco-tourism company.”
“Really?” Now that was more like it. Dogs were great and all, but working around them all day couldn’t be exciting. “White water rafting? Zip-lining across canyons? Skydiving into the Great Lakes?”
His lips twitched. “Yes to the rafting and zip-lining, but the other one goes past adventurous into crazy territory.” He dragged a French fry through a puddle of ketchup on his plate. “Although I have taken groups to the Canadian Rockies for some heli-skiing tours.” He eyed her while he chewed. He took a swig of beer and wiped his upper lip with the back of his wrist. “What about you? What kind of art do you do?”
“I’m a painter, mainly oils, though I’ve been known to dabble in watercolors and acrylics. I’ve even sculpted a piece or two.” And been told to never get near an innocent lump of clay again. Morris hadn’t even bothered trying to sell her abstract sculptures. But he’d only been half an art dealer. The other half had been a thief, so maybe he didn’t know as much about art as she’d thought. Maybe her sculptures hadn’t been half bad.
She pursed her lips and visualized her last sculpture, a deformed bit of clay that was supposed to be a horse. No, they had been that bad. “What’s the art scene like in … uh, where did you tell me you lived? Pineville, was it? Any galleries there?”
“None that I know of.” He shrugged. “But then, the galleries for me are the lakes and woods of Michigan. If you want to see real beauty, I’ll take you to Tahquamenon Falls State Park.”
“You will?”
He grimaced. “I mean, if you’re serious about staying in Michigan, you should go see it. I can give you directions.”
Her phone buzzed in her front jeans pocket, and she pulled it out. She ignored all the missed texts and voice mails from Morris and focused on the email notification. Her heart jumped around like a rabbit when she saw the sender’s address. “Excuse me a sec,” she said as she opened the email. Her mouth went dry, and a burst of exhilaration surged through her. She pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! I’m in.”
“In where?” Dax asked. His hazel eyes went wide as she circled the table and threw her arms around his neck. His chair rocked onto two legs, and Dax windmilled his arms before righting himself. “Uh …” He patted her back awkwardly. “Okay, I guess we’re celebrating.”
She squeezed him tighter, needing the connection, someone at which to direct her happiness. The backs of her eyes burned. With joy. Relief. Hope. The thing she wanted most in the world, and it was finally hers.
He rested his hands on her lower back, and the heat from his palms cut through her thin cotton top, a comforting warmth that reached to the bottom of her shoulder blades. His hold on her was solid, dependable, like he’d have no problem catching her if she fell. Lissa longed to capture that feeling of security, stay in his arms for a while.
But even she had limits, and she’d just met the man earlier that day. Curling up like a cat on his lap would be a little weird, even by her free-wheeling standards. So, she drew back and grinned down at him. “We’re definitely celebrating. In fact,” she said, catching the eye of the bartender, “drinks on the house!”
A few cheers and whoops answered that declaration, but for the most part the diners and dancers ignored it.
“Huh. I’ve always wanted to say that, but it didn’t get the response I expected.” She shrugged and dropped back on her chair.
Dax leaned forward. “You shouldn’t joke like that.”
“Not a joke.” Their waitress strode up, and Lissa said this to her as well as Dax. “I just had some really great news and anyone who wants a drink to help me celebrate can. Put it on my bill.”
The girl nodded and made the rounds, taking orders.
Dax’s lips pressed into a white slash. “Even at a dive like this, the bill will add up. You shouldn’t have offered.”
“I can cover it.”
“You had to hitch a ride out of town.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest. “Forgive me for wondering if you can cover the bar bill for a hundred people.”
“O ye of little faith.” She pulled her bag from the back of her chair and opened the top flap. She showed him the contents, enjoying the way his eyes flared. “Like I said, I’ve got it covered.”
He shot out his hand and closed the top of the pack, looking over his shoulder. “What the hell? Did you rob a bank? What are you doing with all that cash?”
She opened another pocket on the bag and pulled out something even more precious than the cash that would pay for her dreams. She held the rolled-up bundle of brushes to her chest and inhaled the intoxicating scents of her brush cleaner: turpentine and lavender. “I assure you, it’s all mine.” And with her acceptance to the Bruggard-Tayo School of Visual Arts, she now had a purpose for her money.
Pushing her plate to the side, she laid the bundle before her and gently unwrapped it. The polished wood handles of her set of brushes gleamed dully under the overhead fluorescent lights. Licking her finger, she nudged a bent bristle on one of the brushes back into place.
Dax leaned close. “Even if it is yours, you don’t go around flashing that much cash. Especially in a place like this.” He glared at the table to their right, as if he knew what the couple was thinking and their thoughts were felonious. “Christ, you left it just hanging off the back of your chair when you were dancing.”
“And no one took it.” With neat movements, she rolled up her treasured brushes and tucked them away. “You really need to learn to relax. Being so uptight can’t be healthy for your blood pressure. Learn to live a little. Have some fun.”
He gripped the back of his neck. “I am not uptight,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Well, you aren’t a barrel of laughs either.” She shot off a quick text to her mom, telling her the news. She didn’t expect a response tonight, but she placed her phone on the table in front of her, just in case.
The waitress stopped by with a black billfold. Lissa took it and pulled out the long tail of the receipt. Her eyes widened at the total at the bottom, but what the hell. She could afford it, even after paying tuition. Plus someplace to stay for the six weeks until her classes started. And a first-class ticket to take her there.
Digging in her bag, she pulled several hundred-dollar bills from a banded stack. She tossed them down on the table and pounded back the last of her beer. She held the empty glass up to Dax. “Slainte!”
He dipped his chin and sighed.
“What? You’re Irish, aren’t you?”
Wiping his hands on his napkin, he shook his head. “Of Scottish heritage actually. But people normally toast before they drink, not after they finish.”
She placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “That’s one thing you’re going to learn about me, Dax. I don’t like to do things the normal way.”
“Yeah, I think I got that,” he muttered.
Her phone buzzed and she looked down, her breath catching. Her shoulders slumped. Not her mom. Just another threat from Morris. If she didn’t return the money right away, blah, blah, blah. He was going to hunt her down, blah, blah, blah.
Standing, she shoved her phone into her back pocket. “Do you want to go to some real clubs to dance? Memphis should have some good live music.”
Dax laid a bill for his own meal on the table, even though she’d paid enough for his, too. “I can’t. I have work I need to get to.”
“Work?” Threading her arm through his, she led him out the swinging front door of the bar and onto the sidewalk. Blues music spilled from a club a couple of doors down and something with a harder beat pulsed from a bar with blacked-out windows on the co
rner. “How can you work when there’s so much to see and do?” She shook her head. Working on a sultry Memphis night? Really. The man was too tedious. He needed her to get him to lighten up.
He looked wistfully down the street but shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got something I need to do for tomorrow.”
Lissa raised an eyebrow. “Give the dogs a bath so they’re all shiny and pretty for their new homes?”
“No, they get cleaned up at Forever Friends, smart-ass.” He checked his watch. “But I have something I need to prepare for tomorr—” He stopped and dropped his head. “Crap. I need to take the dogs out again. I won’t have time to get my work done.”
“You took them out when we got here. It didn’t take you all that long.” She tossed a glance back at the blues club but let Dax lead her across the street to the motel.
“And that walk was a complete disaster. Those eight dogs can’t be walked together again.” He pulled his plastic key from his back pocket and stood before his door, tapping it on his other fingers. “They all want to go in different directions. We didn’t make it five feet without the leashes getting tangled.”
Lissa prodded him toward his door. “Look, I’ll take the dogs out before I go clubbing. You get your work done and then come join me.”
He opened the door, using his legs to block the swarm of dogs trying to make their escape. “Would you? That would be a big help.”
“No problema.” She gathered the leashes.
“Lock your backpack in your room first.” He rested his hands on his hips. “I won’t have you walking around with ten thousand dollars in cash, even with the dogs as protection.”
Fifty thousand, but Dax didn’t need to know that. It would probably just make him grumpier. She gave him a pert salute and marched to the door. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back, sir.”
“Smart-ass,” he muttered as he turned away. But Lissa could have sworn she saw his lips curve up.
Forever Wild Page 2