Nobody's Princess

by Sarah Hegger

  “I don’t do drugs,” Dakota said.

  “Bullshit.” Thomas almost lost it. “Is there more in your bag?”

  “You’re losing your mind.”

  “Wanna come clean before I check your bag, because I got no problem doing it.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?” Thomas wasn’t going on a ride along with some kid and his fucking idiotic habit.

  “There’s none in my bag.”

  “Where did you get the stuff you’re on?”

  “I had it.”

  “Go get your bag.”

  “I told you, I don’t have any.” Dakota glared up at him, his breath coming hard.

  “Get it.” Stupid damned kid, maybe if he grabbed him by the ears and drop-kicked him into next week he’d get some sense out of him. Jesus. Seventeen and putting shit up his nose like a seasoned junkie.

  “You’ve got no right to check my stuff.”

  “I’ve got every right when you’re in my car, underage, and doing illegal shit. Now, get your bag, or I will.”

  “You’re fucked in the head.”

  “No.” Thomas got right into his space. “You are, and you’re not going to get that way again. Not on my dime and not when I’m the adult that’s going to catch shit for it. Get. Your. Bag.”

  “You’re a total douche.” Dakota blinked rapidly.

  So be it! Thomas spun on his heel and stalked back to the truck. He leaned in through the open door and grabbed Dakota’s bag.

  “Hey.” The kid reached out to snatch it back.

  The look Thomas gave him had him backing off, fast. Thomas could feel Tiffany’s stare on both of them, but he didn’t look up. She didn’t deserve this crap. None of them did. Least of all Dakota. He searched the bag thoroughly. The kid was either telling the truth or it was too well hidden.

  “I told you there was nothing in there.” Dakota snatched his bag and shoved it in the back. “Maybe you get off putting your hands all over my stuff. Is that it? You’re like a perv or something? You like touching other men’s underpants?”

  Thomas strode around to the driver’s side.

  “What is it?” Tiffany whipped around in her seat, glancing between them. “What’s going on?”

  Thomas thought about lying to her and then abandoned the idea. “Dakota’s high.” She might be fragile as all hell, but she still deserved to know. “I was making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Seriously?” She made a soft noise of disbelief beneath her breath. “And he calls me stupid.”

  Dakota got into the back, slamming the door so hard the entire truck rattled. He retreated immediately behind his Beats.

  Thomas got back on the road. “Did his mother tell you what kind of trouble he’s in?”

  “No.” Tiffany shook her head. “She got in the cab so fast, I didn’t have the chance to ask questions. Do you think it’s drug related?”

  “Shit, I hope not.” Thomas glared at the dark strip of tarmac stretching out in front of the truck’s hood. He hoped like hell he was wrong, but his Spidey sense shrieked at him. Whatever this kid was into, it wasn’t going to be good. And where was his mother in all of this? Taking the sun in Africa. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with the woman, anyway?

  He jerked his head toward Dakota. “His mother do this a lot?” It couldn’t be further from his own mother. Donna was always there when someone needed her. Always. “Take off, I mean, and leave him with someone else.”

  Tiffany shrugged. “I think so. I really haven’t had much to do with them since my di—since Luke left. But I think I’m still some sort of legal guardian or something because they didn’t get around to changing it.”

  “Why is that?” He wanted to know all of a sudden. He didn’t get any of this messed-up situation.

  “I would guess Lola is too lazy to bother with changing a legal document.”

  “Not that.” Frustration soured his gut. “Why are you still married to Luke?”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t really know.”

  “You don’t know why you’re not divorced?” He found that hard to believe.

  “I tell myself it’s because I couldn’t be bothered to track Luke down, but I don’t think that’s the truth.”

  Thomas waited. There was more to this story. A hell of a lot more.

  “I think the truth is more like I’m scared to see Luke again. But then, that doesn’t really wash either because I could have had the papers taken to him and gotten him to sign them like that. Maybe what I’m really scared of is letting go.”

  Her honesty rocked him a little. He stared out at the road for a while, not knowing what else to do. Man, her party pack full of surprises kept coming. A drop-dead body wrapped around a tender heart. Fragile, like one of those ornamental balls his mother hung on the Christmas tree. So beautiful, perfect to look at, but ridiculously easy to shatter.

  That dickhead Ryan didn’t deserve someone so beautiful and delicate. He had her all tied up in knots, trying to be something she wasn’t. Who gave a shit if she’d never read Tolstoy? He shook his head. Why was he wasting so much mental energy on this shit? He would take her to Luke, get them all sorted, and get the hell on with his life. Back home, his family waited for him. Babies didn’t hang around for their people to be ready. His brother Josh said he was making headway in getting his kick-ass girlfriend to marry him. And he missed it, going round and round the world chasing whatever he fancied. Time to plug into family again and feel their love and warmth. He teetered off center, too big for his own skin. A trip back home would right-size him pretty quickly.

  “Are you still in love with Luke?” Was that his mouth that just opened up and asked the question? It must be.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. They were the most incredible green color and surrounded by lashes as thick as a Disney princess’s. “No.” Her teeth went at that bottom lip again. Perfect white teeth making indents into that lush pillow of a lip. What a crying shame to do such a thing to a mouth like that. “Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t know. The thing with Luke and me, it was so intense and it burned so bright. I don’t know what that means.”

  “You and the almost fiancé, you don’t burn bright?” There he went again. Exactly what was this crap to him? Nothing. That’s what it was. Nothing. Still, he listened for her answer.

  “Oh, no.” She laughed. “Ryan and I have a mature relationship. It’s not all up and down, in and out, and burning hot one day and blowing freezing the next.”

  Sounded like a snore to him. “No?”

  “No.” She slashed the air with her hand. “I am done with that shit. I want stable and secure. Ryan is that and more. I want peaceful.”

  Thomas stopped himself from shaking his head. Peaceful? How could anything be peaceful when you had a woman this amazing in your life? The way he saw it, you had a woman like this in your life, it was passion. All the way passion, burning hot and strong and pretty much all the time. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  Images of Tiffany lying spent and drowsy in his bed took up room in his brain. He shook them off. He had no business even going there. Her life was one massive hot mess. The best thing he could do was steer clear. Way clear. This time next year, if he got those results, he would be breaking ground in Zambia.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Canyons, Utah. Reach for the Sky.” Tiffany read off the sign as the afternoon drew to a close. Tiffany breathed a sigh of relief. Stuck in a car with a moody teen and an angry man stretched the last two hours into forever.

  The small town of Canyons lay forty minutes south of Salt Lake City. Quiet and baking in the evening sun, it nestled happily at the base of the Wasatch Mountains. The sky behind the peaks bragged the sort of endless blue that made Tiffany’s eyes water. It was the exact color of Thomas’s eyes.

  Canyons looked more like a sprawling residential neighborhood than a small city. Low buildings spread beneath a huge sky. Space. It stretche
d around them everywhere. They found a motel just off the main road and booked two rooms. The boys would share—Thomas didn’t trust Dakota out of his sight, and apparently he had good reason.

  Drugs! She’d bet her last dime Lola knew. How the hell could the woman leave when her son was in this kind of trouble? Any kid deserved more than that.

  Dakota hadn’t spoken a word since the incident with Thomas and the bag. Instead, he kept his attention glued to his phone and the steady beat of his music going constantly.

  She let herself into her room. It smelled of disinfectant and that strange musty odor of too many strangers passing through and leaving a piece of themselves behind. Ryan would have a fit. The air-conditioning worked, however, which was a blessing because Canyons was as close to hell as she ever wanted to get. The heat rocketed clear into the high nineties and climbed, even as the long summer evening descended. Nobody was hungry, so they didn’t make any plans to meet for dinner.

  Tiffany hunted around for something to do. Even her book couldn’t hold her attention. The conversation in the car had scratched her up inside. There had been a time when she’d thought about redoing her high school diploma and going back to college. Then she got scared. Scared of having to face her failure, maybe. Marrying Luke had provided a distraction for a while, and after that it seemed easier to just go along with her father’s plan for her. After meeting Ryan, there didn’t seem any point in going back to school.

  She’d never messed with drugs, but the similarities between her and Dakota were clear enough for even her to see. Two lost rich kids, the rebel and the pleaser. One kicking out as hard as he could, and the other doing all she could to keep her father’s approval. She’d decided at a young age it was her job to ease her father’s pain after her mother died. Luke had been her one jaunt into rebellion, and that hadn’t ended well.

  Since then, she’d more or less been drifting. Every now and again she got the feeling that she should make a break for it and fight her way clear. But, fight what? A father who adored her and gave her everything she wanted? A life that didn’t demand anything of her, merely that she show up and drift along? Poor princess Tiffany, everything she wants and she’s still not happy. It sucked and she didn’t want to be alone with herself anymore.

  She changed into a light summer dress and kick-ass strappy sandals and braved the heat. Outside, the warm air rushed to surround her and stuck to her skin. She jammed her sunglasses over her eyes and looked around. It was a pretty standard motel. Except for the tall peaks of the Wasatch Range etched like the backdrop to a spaghetti Western against the sunset. Luke had chosen a beautiful part of the world to disappear.

  The bass thump of music drew her toward the end of the long row of motel rooms. A bar. A nice dry martini would take the edge off. She stopped and frowned. She didn’t like martinis. Why the hell did she drink martinis when she didn’t even like them? Ryan liked martinis and it seemed the right thing to do. She was going from being a daddy pleaser to a husband pleaser. When, in all this pleasing of others, was Tiffany going to get an inch?

  The bright, shining Coors sign beckoned. A world of alcoholic possibilities opened up. She pushed open the door to the bar and blinked in the dim after the bright sunlight outside. The smell of beer and old cigarette smoke rushed to meet her. It was surprisingly full for a bar in the middle of nowhere.

  Trying not to feel the stares on her, she made her way over to the bar. Bruce Springsteen wailed about lost America from the jukebox. There were other women clustered around, but they were mostly dressed in T-shirts and shorts. At a guesstimate, she would say she was 92 percent out of place. She lifted her chin. It didn’t matter. You were only overdressed if you decided you were, and she totally rocked this Michael Kors dress.

  She eased onto a bar stool and crossed her legs. Across the bar, a bearded man lifted his chin. Dropping the eye contact, she ordered a shot of tequila.

  The barman slid it in front of her with the salt and lime. She went through the ritual and took the shot, sucking in her breath as it seared down her gullet and crashed into her stomach.

  “Hey.” A shadow fell across her shot glass. Thomas. She knew it was him without looking up. “A girl like you could get into trouble in a bar like this one.”

  “Where’s Dakota?”

  “Sleeping.” He perched on the stool beside her. “He’s crashed off that high. I don’t think he’ll surface for the rest of the night.”

  “And if he does?”

  “I’ve got his phone.” Thomas showed her. “I don’t see him going anywhere without it.” He turned toward the bar. “So, what are we drinking?”

  “I’m drinking tequila.” Ouch, that came out a bit bitchy. Giving him attitude when she was kind of glad to see him didn’t seem the best option when she was outnumbered twelve to one in the bar. It had been a bit of a weird day. Scratch that. It had been a batshit crazy day. Dakota doing drugs? She snorted softly beneath her breath. That was why Lola had taken off so fast. This shit got way too real for Lola.

  “Sounds good to me.” Thomas tapped the bar top to get the barman’s attention.

  Tiffany studied him out of the corner of her eye. God, he was fine. He had showered and changed. His damp hair clung to his nape and he wore a fresh tee. She had no idea how he managed to fit them all into that one bag of his. She eyed the slogan across his chest.

  Have you tried turning it off and on again? Not her favorite, but good for a smile. She spread the salt onto her hand and licked it off. The tequila made her eyes water on the way down, and the lemon had her sucking in her breath.

  He watched her do the shot, an unreadable expression on his face.

  She opened her mouth to ask what and then shut it again. She didn’t feel like caring. She motioned the barman for two more. Beside her, Thomas’s arm snapped as he took his shot. No salt and no lemon, just straight up. Thomas Hunter—a straight-up kind of guy. She snickered to herself.

  He slammed his shot glass against the bar and sucked in a deep breath. “Damn, that had claws.”

  Tiffany grinned at him. Of course it had claws. It was tequila. She lined up her next shot and shook the salt out onto her hand.

  “Now, that’s just no fun.” He snagged her hand and raised it to his mouth. His eyes locked on hers—deep liquid blue—as his tongue slid hot against her skin and lapped up the salt.

  Her belly tightened beneath her dress. Tiffany fought the desire to look away. As he turned and took the shot, her breath came out in a whoosh. This was certainly not helping the attraction thing. “I think salt licking should be off the agenda as well.”

  He gave a wry smile. “You’re probably right.” His smile widened into a grin. “You know, in Africa, animals share salt licks all the time? In a totally nonsexual way.”

  His brand of goofy eased the tightness in her chest. “Is that so?”

  “Honest. It’s considered a sign of trust.” He shook salt onto his hand and offered it to her. For a crazy moment, she was tempted. Then she shook her head and took her own salt.

  His expression mocked her lightly. “What are we drinking to?”

  “Me.” The next shot went down easier and she ordered another two.

  “Sounds good to me.” He turned to look at her, a question in his eye. “Anything specific about you?”

  “Freedom. As in me getting mine.”

  “From Luke?”

  Funny, she hadn’t been thinking about Luke. “Sure. Why not?”

  “To your freedom.” He raised his glass and clinked it against hers.

  “Tell me something?” She got a waft of his Thomas smell as he leaned closer to pour salt over her hand. “Do you ever get the feeling like you want to run hard enough to forget where you came from?”

  “Sure.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re talking to the man with permanently itchy feet.” His tongue whipped out and took the salt from her hand.

  That tongue had serious talent. His flirting snapped her feel-good synapses. T
iffany let the tingles do their buzzy thing and grinned at him. Hey, she might be having fun here. They took the next shot together.

  “Do you dance?” She gestured the small space beside the bar where a couple was shuffling around, more vertical making out than dancing.

  “I’m sad to say I don’t.” He smiled, with a little something behind it she couldn’t put her finger on. She liked it anyway. “Why don’t you tell me your story instead?”

  The tequila created a nice fuzzy warmth in her midsection. She motioned the barman for another two. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you tell me yours?”

  “Me?” He looked taken aback. “I don’t have much of a story. Pretty much, what you see is what you get.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Okay.” He took a breath. “I’m the youngest of three brothers. My family lives in Willow Park, north of Chicago. Older brother is a doctor, middle brother a financial whiz kid, and I’m an engineer.”

  “Hmm.” Not what she had been hoping for, but it was a start. “Married? Girlfriend?”

  “Neither.” His smile did those great crinkle things to the corner of his eyes. “I move around a lot, so I don’t really have time for that sort of thing.”

  “Commitment phobe?”

  “Maybe.” There went that killer smile again and the tingles crackled beneath her skin. “Or maybe I haven’t met the girl to make me want to stay in one place.”

  She missed her hand with the salt and squinted down as it wavered a bit. Finally, she got enough to lick. She glanced at Thomas as she did it. His hot gaze tracked the movement of her tongue like a starving man. A surge of power warmed her up inside. “So you’ve worked in Zambia, where else?”

  “Chile. Gaspé—”

  “Where?” He didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t know stuff, and it made asking so much easier.

  “It’s in Canada, eastern Quebec. Very cold and tons of snow.”

  “Not like Zambia?”

  “Not at all, and if I have a choice I’d much rather be hot than cold.”

  She nodded and drank. “And that’s where you ran into Luke.”