A Wild Ride

by Vivian Arend

  “Hmmm, I’m so good. Don’t worry. If there’s any fucking like animals going on around here, it’ll be us,” Troy murmured in her ear.

  She waited until the door closed completely behind Len before responding.

  “Terrible,” she complained, drawing in a gulp of air as he caught hold of her earlobe and nipped lightly.

  “You love me being terrible,” he offered.

  She twisted in his arms and lifted her lips for a kiss.

  Sunlight streaked through the open overhead door, lying in stripes across the concrete floor of the shop. The warm summer breeze carried the scent of flowers into the more familiar oil and gas aromas. Familiar, and yet a trap he didn’t think he could ever escape.

  The sweet kisses from Nic’s lips distracted him from the things he couldn’t change. And in her arms, he didn’t really care. Being there—at that moment—was one thing he didn’t want to change.

  Troy Thompson liked having a girlfriend.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Nicole?”

  “I’m in here. Back room, on the right,” Nicole called in answer.

  Laurel poked her head around the corner a moment later, one brow rising. “Localized tornado?”

  Nicole picked another T-shirt from the pile on her bed, folding it efficiently as she offered an explanation for the clothing scattered everywhere. “I’m frustrated, and when I’m frustrated I clean. In this case, my closet.”

  “Great. If you need more material when you’re done, you’re welcome to come to my place and go through my things,” Laurel offered.

  “You might not like my methods,” Nicole warned, pointing to the stack piled haphazardly against the far wall. “That mess is headed to the thrift shop, if you want to bag it up. Anything you want to keep, it’s yours.”

  Laurel stepped over a pile of shoes and set to work willingly. “Why so frustrated? Troy?”

  “No. Well, yes, although it’s not him.” Not completely.

  They’d been officially dating for over a week, and for some stupid reason, regular sex had not yet resumed its place on their dating roster. She wasn’t jumping up and down in excitement about that detail.

  Nicole balled up another reject shirt and threw it at the discard pile with more energy than needed. It made no sense. She was willing, they were good together, but for whatever reason, Troy was being an ass and keeping things on a slow burn.

  It was probably melodramatic to complain that her skin itched, but she was so—achy. She hated the word horny, but if the urge to get down and dirty fit…

  Gahhhh. She was doing it again. Obsessing over sex when she was supposed to be focusing on whether they could be a forever couple or not. Great.

  Not boring, though, her brain muttered.

  This time she didn’t tell herself to shut up; she was too confused to fight it.

  “You guys have fun at the drive-in last night?” Laurel asked, drawing her back to the real world.

  “Yeah. Movie was okay. And he went with me to the wreckers before to find a replacement part for my trunk lock.”

  “Ooooh, a trip to the wreckers.” Laurel batted her lashes rapidly, clutching her hands over her chest like a storybook heroine. “So romantic.”

  “Shut up.” Nicole laughed. “It was great. We had fun wandering around, grabbing bits and pieces from all the old vehicles. Troy knew a ton of people who needed things, so we came out with a trunk full of crazy stuff to pass on to others.”

  Laurel settled on the edge of the bed. “Sounds like a great time. Dating is going well then.”

  “Yeah…”

  It was true. She wasn’t even sure why she felt so edgy. It wasn’t as if she was being completely cock-blocked. They’d kissed and fooled around plenty. Troy was damn generous when it came to handing her orgasms, but actual sex?

  She was about to explode from frustration, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share her acutely sexual problem with Laurel, no matter how hard they’d clicked as friends.

  Fortunately… Unfortunately? The no-sex issue wasn’t the only thing she had to complain about. Nicole took a deep breath and let Laurel have it. “My family is driving me nuts.”

  “That’s what family does.”

  “This is beyond typical. Nutsier? Think more annoying than usual. Damn them for their well-intentioned curiosity and maddening advice.”

  “Ahh, yes.” Laurel folded another item then tucked it into the bag she was filling. “But…I thought you said your family likes Troy.”

  A heavy sigh escaped her. “Oh, they like him. Everyone likes him. They just don’t think he’s more than a pretty face and a good time waiting to happen.”

  “He’s held a steady job at the garage for over seven years. What does he need to do to prove he’s grown up?” Laurel demanded.

  Nicole was at a loss for a better answer. “I have no idea. My brother-in-law went in and took his oil-changing lesson from Troy, and I was sure that would make a good impression, but he just kind of grunted and told me to be careful not to get hurt.”

  Her friend sighed heavily. “Troy can’t win them over, can he?”

  “Other than magically turning into a buttoned-up professor, I don’t see how.”

  Laurel went strangely quiet for a moment. “Umm, even that’s not a guarantee of not breaking your heart. Why does he have to be serious?”

  Maybe that was the trouble. Nic had been one hundred percent on Team Serious when she’d started…

  “I…like Troy,” she confessed.

  “D-uh. I hope so.” Laurel flashed her a smile. “You’re going out with him. Liking him makes that work better.”

  Nicole dropped onto the mattress across from her friend. “No, I mean, I really like him. I guess I always have, but I’d always put him into a fun-times box and never thought he could be more.”

  “Fucking friends, not forever soul mates?”

  Nicole choked on her own spit. “Will you stop that?”

  “Sorry,” Laurel said without a blush. “But seriously, you don’t expect me to believe you’re not sleeping with him. You two were—” She slammed to a stop before shaking her head. “Nope. I won’t go there. Suffice to say, you didn’t seem to have any chemistry issues…”

  Ha. They were the only couple she knew to have screwed around before they started officially dating then go virginal. “The chemistry is there, but the lab seems to be closed,” she confessed.

  It took Laurel a split second to parse that out, her eyes widening. “Since when?”

  “Since we started dating, damnabbit.”

  Laurel’s lips twitched. “Ix-nay on that as a swear substitute, although I thoroughly accept the need to swear. I’m in shock.”

  “I’m in worse than shock,” Nicole complained. “Although, if you don’t like talking about sex, we can stop.”

  Her friend shrugged. “Hardly necessary. Being raised in the church doesn’t mean I’m ignorant about sex. In fact, I’ve heard all sorts of twisted things under the guise of ‘confessing our sins and evil desires’.”

  “Ewwww, thank you for that.”

  “No prob,” Laurel said. “But since I have no sex life—by choice, I might add—let’s go back to talking about your no sex life, since it seems to not make sense.”

  “Maybe he’s just…” Nope. “Or maybe it’s…” Nope, not that either. Nicole stared at the wall.

  “No way. You haven’t even asked? Or better yet, just straight-out seduced him?” Laurel shook her head before rummaging in the bag of discarded clothing and pulling out a tank top. “Here, wear that, with no bra, and tell me he keeps his dick in his pants.”

  Nicole was dying, gasping for air. The longer Laurel went on, the harder it got to breathe. “What the hell kind of church-going upbringing did you have, young lady?”

  “Trust me, this isn’t about my upbringing. It’s a very solid research education conducted online during college. But enough about me.” Laurel shoved the shirt into her hands.

  Nicol
e took one final suck of air to stop herself from falling over before checking out the shirt with horror. “I’ve had this thing since junior high. It barely covers my ta-tas.”

  “I bet your ta-tas look awesome barely covered with it. That’s the point. And now…” Laurel leaned back on the pillow propped against the wall “…riddle me this. You asked if I was okay talking about sex.”

  “Yeah?”

  Her friend gave her that one-brow-raised expression. “Have you asked Troy why you’re not having sex?”

  Nicole opened her mouth. Closed it.

  “Gee, why not?”

  “You’re annoying, did you know that?” Nicole demanded.

  “Yup.” Laurel stared straight at her. “Well, hon, in my opinion, if you’re not fucking, you should be talking.”

  “One or the other, is that it?”

  “Both at the same time if he’s talented, I suppose. I hear that can be hot.”

  “You’re making me crazy,” Nicole warned.

  “Good. That means we’ve reached the friends-who-hug stage of the game. Yes?”

  Nicole laughed. “Yeah. Okay, you’re right. I need to ask him why, or encourage him to spill the beans, or whatever.”

  Laurel’s soft smile shone like a blessing. “Talking is good.”

  “Fucking is good too,” Nicole muttered. “But yeah, he’s a pretty typical guy. Getting him to put two words together about anything serious… It’s not happening.”

  “Hard to know if this is going to work if you’re just dancing along like you did before. Not that being happy and having fun is wrong,” she insisted. “I just mean you need to talk while you’re having fun, to make sure you’re headed in the same direction.”

  Nicole’s head swam with ideas, but she felt way better for sharing with someone instead of stewing in her own misery. “You are awesome,” she told Laurel, rounding the bed to offer a hug.

  Laurel popped to her feet. “No prob.”

  They were still squeezing each other tight when a low rumble hit from the doorway. “I have nothing against girl-on-girl action, but hands off, Sitko. That’s my girlfriend—”

  Oh my God. Nicole twirled to face Troy. “It’s not—”

  Laurel laughed softly in the background as Nicole found herself hauled into his arms and kissed breathless. By the time he let her up for air, her friend had vanished, the bag of charity clothes with her.

  Except for the far-too-small top Laurel had left in plain sight on the edge of the bed. Brat.

  Nicole clung to Troy’s leather-clad shoulders. “There was nothing going on, you turkey.”

  “I know that,” Troy said. “I like Laurel. She makes you happy.”

  Even a quick mental review of the afternoon visit proved that was true. Nicole looked Troy over more closely. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, for a ride with you.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on, I brought a spare helmet. The sky is clear and it’s a beautiful day. Let’s not waste it.”

  He’d been biding his time…

  No.

  He’d been working his ass off…

  No.

  Troy let loose a mental sigh as he admitted the truth, at least to himself.

  He’d been using every bit of strength he had to keep from jumping Nicole. And he’d been trying his best to figure out what in the hell it would take to impress the people important to Nic without up and magically turning into someone else.

  At that moment, with Nicole tucked up against his back, her arms around his waist, life was just about perfect. Connected like this, racing down the highway, he got to savour the warmth transferring from her thighs to his without worrying about how he was going to screw up by not being serious enough.

  Avoiding topics he didn’t want to go into was getting tougher all the time, and he felt like the stupidest shit.

  He’d spent the past twelve years impressing people and making them like him, and now, when it was important? Bullshit on him having any moves.

  The moments they were alone things were great. Except for avoiding sex, the idea for which he was equal parts proud of and ready to shoot himself in the head for.

  He really was trying to make sure they had something more than sex going on, but the fact they didn’t have sex going on at the same time was bugging the hell out of both of them.

  They were screwed. Neither of them knew how to do this grow-up-and-move-on thing. Or at least he sure didn’t.

  Nicole squeezed him tight then pointed to the side. He followed the line of her arm, turning down the side road when he spotted her target.

  Maxwell Kent’s convertible.

  He pulled to a stop beside her, waiting for Nicole to get off the bike before joining her as she paced around the vehicle. “She’s a beauty,” he said.

  “This car makes me think dirty thoughts,” Nic confessed. “Long, slow make-out sessions in the summer sunshine. The scent of Coppertone sunscreen. Driving home with the top down after a lazy trip down the river.”

  “Parking on the ridge and watching the stars wink into view over the Rockies…”

  Nic flashed a smile at him. “God, so much fun.” She stepped forward, trailing her fingers over the dusty blue paint. Her bright smile faded.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly. He leaned across the hood, wondering why her fire had extinguished so fast.

  She glanced up, smile back in place.

  Absolutely fake.

  “Nic…” he warned.

  An enormous sigh escaped her, but she lifted her gaze to his. “Buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you my troubles, sailor.”

  He worried the entire way to the nearest watering hole. The tiny village was no more than a gas station with an attached café, the sole survivor of a handful of decrepit buildings that had risen around the intersection of two seldom-traveled secondary highways.

  They walked with linked fingers into the shop. A small bell overhead rang briefly then cut out with a static-filled bleep. Troy guided her to a bench seat before grabbing them two Cokes from the bored-out-of-her-skull teenaged girl manning the counter.

  Nic poured her drink into a glass then focused all her attention on picking at the label on the empty plastic bottle.

  “Once more with feeling,” Troy ordered, speaking quietly but firmly. “You were having a ball talking about that car then suddenly you went cold. What the hell happened?”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. “All this while I’ve been going on about wanting to move forward. Leave behind my impulsive ways, and dive into being a real adult. That car?” She shook her head. “About as childish as I could get.”

  “Bullshit.” His response was instant.

  “Right. I can see it now. Top rolled down, wind whipping through my hair as I cruise down the highway, baby seat strapped in the back—” She made a rude noise.

  “Why not?” Troy demanded. “It’s a car, not a fucking pogo stick.”

  “Because responsible adults don’t spend their time and energy on stupid toys that aren’t necessary. I don’t need that car.”

  “But you want that car,” Troy pointed out. “The idea makes you happy. There’s nothing wrong with that. You should do more things that make you happy.”

  “No, I should do more things that help me reach my goals,” Nic corrected.

  “And your goal is to be miserable?”

  “Stop being an ass,” she snapped. “Yes, I like the car, but it’s never going to happen because buying it isn’t being responsible.”

  He’d had enough. “For fuck’s sake. There’s no reason you can’t have the ’Stang. I’ll trade in my damn truck for a fucking minivan if that’s what we need down the road.”

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  The old-fashioned cuckoo clock on the wall and the tinny sound of music from behind the cook-station doors seemed loud in the silence that rolled in.

  He couldn’t quite believe what had just come out of his mouth.


  Neither could Nic from the way her jaw hung partially open.

  They stared at each other for a moment before she got herself together faster than him. “Really.”

  It wasn’t what she said, but how, and the chin jut that accompanied it. Challenging him.

  “You don’t have to be boring to be responsible,” he repeated. “You don’t have to change who you are to move on to the next stage of life.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t even try to hand me that line. Considering that ever since we officially started going out, the one thing we did well, sex—”

  She jerked to a stop, cheeks flushed as the waitress girl wandered past, wiping down the table to their right.

  As they waited in silence for her to move out of earshot, something miraculous occurred. For the second time that month, Troy had an epiphany.

  The first time, he’d realized they were right together. Now he realized it with even more certainty.

  They were right together. Not two other people who acted differently. Who spent their days doing different things. He’d been wrong to try to impress anyone but her with anything but his real self. And wrong for holding off on the physical side of things.

  Enough. Time to get real. “The only bullshit is the fact I haven’t been inside you for too damn long. Not fucking around with you sucks.”

  He might have said it a tad too loud, but she pressed her lips together to hide her smile even as she glanced to see if he’d been overheard. “Jeez. You want to put it out in a meme? Hashtag that sentiment for everyone to see?” she murmured.

  “Hashtag fuck you raw? It has trending potential.”

  She snorted. “God, you’re terrible.” Nic looked him over, her gaze lingering on his hands and torso as a full-out smile took possession of her lips. “So. You plan on doing this fucking today, tomorrow or next week?”

  He picked up his glass and drained the rest of it in one shot, waiting impatiently until she finished the remainder of her drink. Before she could say another word he herded her out of the booth, out of the café, and toward his bike.

  “In a hurry?” she asked as he forced her helmet into her hands.