And this is a problem . . . ?
Well, if I’m doing all the work, I have to consider this proposition very carefully. What kind of movie?
Ummm. Something with lots of explosions and car chases. Or are you into stuff with subtitles and weeping?
Let’s go with explosions.
You’re a girl after my own heart.
She was still blushing. You’re forgetting something else.
What’s that?
If I park my car in the ranch parking lot, my brother will see it and start looking for me.
This is indeed a dilemma. Let me think this one over.
Don’t hurt yourself.
Why, Elise, that was rather sassy of you. I approve. I should send you more text messages.
She was feeling rather sassy, darn it. Dirty ones?
Depends on if you’re good or not.
Quantify “good” for me.
Damn, did you just text me “quantify”? That’s kinda hot. You a nerd?
Nope. Don’t get your hopes up too much.
Damn. Well, how about we skip the food and I just come pick you up instead?
I can bring sandwiches if you like?
Now you’re talking. So what time should I come get you?
After dark. If my brother sees me . . .
Gotcha, gotcha. After dark. Meanwhile, I’ll be spending my day in the main cabin, suggesting that Grant take Brenna out for a nice dinner, just the two of them.
Sneak.
Pretty much. I’ll call you when I head over & we’ll get your car later. Wear something comfortable. Be you. Not those crazy shoes you wore last night . . . even though those were pretty damn hot.
Sneakers it is. When he didn’t text her back, she grabbed her pillow and squealed into it like a teenage girl. Rome wanted to see her again and he was picking her up for a date tonight. Oh my god. The man of her dreams was interested in her. This couldn’t be real, could it? She scrolled back through the flirty series of text messages they’d exchanged. It seemed legit. Please, please don’t let him be messing with me, she prayed.
If this was all an elaborate hoax of some kind, she didn’t think she could take it. She liked Rome far too much, and the devastation would be too sharp.
• • •
Elise fixed two brown bag lunches, stuffed with enormous sandwiches and bags of chips. She stole a few of the fresh-baked cookies Emily had on the counter while she was in the kitchen, too, and packed them all into one large grocery sack.
Emily had baked three kinds of cookies that day, since she was agitated over her attic. She always baked more when she needed favors from someone. “I swear I heard something up there last night. It sounded like footsteps. You didn’t hear it?”
Elise shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything.” She didn’t mention the fact that she’d been drunk and probably would have slept through a tornado.
“I’m going to see if one of the officers can come over and check things out this morning,” Emily told her as she put another pan of treats into the oven. “Hank’s a fan of the peanut butter chocolate cookies.”
Elise hesitated. “Do you want me to go take a look?”
“Nah, you seem busy and my sister said she’d send Hank over anyhow.” Emily pulled off her oven mitts and gave her a scrutinizing look. “You going somewhere tonight?”
She considered telling Emily where she was going; on one hand, she was excited—and okay, a bit proud—that she had a date tonight. On the other hand, Bluebonnet was a small town and if one person found out she was seeing Rome, it’d be all over in a matter of days. “Um.”
“I won’t say anything,” Emily said. “Especially not if it’s Mr. Tall, Pierced, and Tattooed.”
She felt her face flush with color, a sure giveaway, and pretended to concentrate on folding down the top of the paper bag in her hand. “How did you know?”
“He’s the only person I’ve seen around you other than family. Given that he’s sexy and carried you up to bed oh so tenderly the other night? I had a hunch.”
“Have you . . . Does my brother . . .”
“Does your brother know? Why would he? It’s none of my business who you see.” Emily winked at her and put a few extra cookies onto a square of foil and folded them up, then handed it to her. “Tell Rome I said hello, and have a good time.”
“You rock.”
“Hey, someone around here needs to get laid,” Emily said with a cheeky grin. “If it’s not me, I hope it’s you.”
Okay, that was embarrassing. She wanted to correct Emily, to tell her she was only going to have dinner and a movie with Rome. That it wasn’t that kind of date . . . except it was, wasn’t it? He was going to help her get some life experience, and she was going to lose her virginity.
So yeah, it was pretty much exactly that. So why was she so embarrassed at the thought? Elise scooped up the bagged sandwiches and gave Emily an awkward smile. “Thank you for everything. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“Hey, you’re a customer and a friend. It’s my job to make you happy.” Emily grinned. “I’ll leave the front door unlocked as usual. And I won’t wait up.”
Elise’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, saving her from stammering a few more excuses. She grabbed the bagged sandwiches in one arm and pulled her phone out with her free hand, thumbing on the screen. Sure enough, there was a text from Rome.
I’m out front. Want me to come in and wait?
She smoothed a hand over her hair and rushed for the front door, shoving her phone in her pocket on the way out. She hoped she looked okay tonight. She’d skipped all makeup except for a little lip gloss and a bit of eyeliner and mascara. The remains of her port-wine stain were more visible this way, but she figured if it was going to freak him out, it was better to get it out of the way before someone got too attached. Her hair was in a long, loose braid over one shoulder and she’d pulled out an old cable-knit sweater and her favorite comfy jeans and slip-on sneakers. Definitely not going for sexy tonight. Even her panties were still granny, sadly. If the man said he didn’t care about her appearance, she’d definitely be testing that, wouldn’t she?
Elise slipped out the front door and glanced around. Parked in front of the bed-and-breakfast, his bike parallel and taking up two spaces, was Rome. He held the motorcycle helmet in one hand and grinned at her in the twilight. He wore jeans, too, and heavy, beat-up combat boots and a wifebeater under a plaid shirt. It was very casual clothing, but it only made her notice the tattoos and piercings more, especially when he grinned at her in greeting.
“Howdy, neighbor,” he mock-drawled. “You ready to get your movie on?”
She nodded and held up the oversized brown bag that she’d packed both of their sandwiches in. “Got food.”
“Perfection.” He held the helmet out to her. “Your brother took Brenna out for dinner, so we’ll be able to sneak into my cabin without being seen.”
“Oh good,” she breathed, and stepped closer to take the helmet from him. But he didn’t give it to her. Instead, he fitted it on her head and buckled the strap for her, his fingers brushing under her chin. It was an intimate gesture, and it made her heart pound with excitement and anticipation.
He offered her a hand and she tucked hers into his, holding his fingers as she slid a leg over the back of the bike and then moved to sit behind him. She tucked the bag of food between their bodies and wrapped one arm around him, the other around the food.
“Nu-uh,” he told her. “Both arms around me or we’re not going anywhere. I want you to be safe.”
“But . . . the food.”
“I can eat a flattened sandwich,” he told her. “Just press your body against my back and it’ll trap the bag between us.”
She did, trying not to blush since it meant her breasts were pushing against his back. The sandwiches were, too, of course, but who cared about those?
Rome slid a hand down her arm, then patted her clasped hands over his front, as if a
pproving. Then he started the bike. “Hold on tight, baby.”
And they were off.
The Daughtry Ranch was about fifteen minutes outside of Bluebonnet, off one of the side roads and in the middle of nowhere, the land heavily treed. Elise knew they’d chosen this location because they needed the rugged land for the business, but fifteen minutes outside of town meant she spent fifteen minutes with her breasts pressed against Rome’s strong, broad back, playing his words in her head over and over again.
He’d called her “baby.” Was that just a casual endearment? Did he call all women “baby” like some guys called them “doll” or “sweet cheeks”? Or did it mean something else? Was she obsessing?
Probably.
When they exited the highway to the ranch, Elise held her breath and bit her lip, anticipating the worst. What if they pulled into the parking lot just as Brenna and Grant pulled out? What if Miranda and Dane saw them? What if Pop did?
But all her fears were for nothing—they pulled into the parking lot and it was empty. Rome parked in the last space at the far end and grinned back at her as he turned his bike off. “Saturday night. Everyone’s out but us.”
Good, she thought.
He helped her off the bike, handed her the now-flattened bag of sandwiches, and then undid the chin strap on the helmet for her, removing it and placing the helmet back on the bike. Then it was just her and him, and she stared up at him mutely, unsure what to do next.
Rome solved that problem for her. He took the bag from her hands and leaned in to give her the barest brush of a kiss over her mouth. “I’ll get that for you.”
She let him take it from her numb hands, thinking about that quick, easy kiss as they walked one of the small trails to his cabin.
He had one of the smaller ones, she’d noticed before, and it was set squarely in the midst of the others, between Pop’s cabin and Grant’s larger cabin-slash-house. It was the sight of Grant’s cabin that made her hurry to walk a little faster, just in case someone emerged from there, even though she knew no one was home. She was still a chicken, really, when it came down to things.
He opened the door to the cabin and let her go in first, and Elise studied his small home anew as she stepped inside. There was a single lamp lit by the bedside table, and his bed—a full—only had one pillow. A quilt that she’d seen tossed over the back of one of the lodge couches covered his bed, and nothing hung on the walls. No pictures, no posters, nothing. He had a small counter in the back of his cabin, and next to a sink was a mini fridge.There were two doors in the cabin—one to a closet and one to a bathroom. Directly across from the bed there was a small nightstand, and a tiny TV-DVD combo sat on top of it.
There were no chairs. How had she forgotten that? Where were they going to sit when they watched the movie and ate? She glanced at the bed and blushed, realizing that they’d probably both have to sit there.
“You want a beer?” Rome headed to the back of the cabin and placed the bag of food on the counter, then reached into the mini fridge to pull out a cold beer. He turned and held it out to her, and she saw that he’d picked her favorite brand, the kind she drank that night during the storm.
“Thanks,” she murmured, twisting the lid off and taking a sip. She only tasted it, though. It seemed like she was constantly getting drunk around him, wasn’t she? If this kept up, she’d be an alcoholic before she lost her virginity.
He opened a beer for himself, took a long pull, and then set it down on one of the nightstands. “You want to eat now or watch the movie now?”
“We could do both at once, I guess?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He popped open a DVD case and slid a disc into the TV, then flicked it on. “Sorry the TV’s so small. I didn’t have one, so I borrowed this one from Pop.”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t care about the screen size.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, a grin on his face. “I hope you’re in the mood for a classic.”
“Classic?”
“Lethal Weapon. I thought it’d be fun. You like it?”
“Never seen it.”
His eyes widened as if she’d said something shocking. “Well, consider this part of your education.”
They got sandwiches and chips to go with the beer, and Elise deliberately trailed a step or two behind Rome, waiting to see where he sat. When he sat down on the left side of the bed and leaned back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, she did the same, but on the right side. The pillow lay sandwiched between them like an armrest, but she didn’t touch it. She was too nervous.
This was the first time she’d ever sat on a guy’s bed and watched a movie. Again, she felt like an awkward teenager. She took slow, methodical bites of her sandwich, her gaze glued to the tiny screen as she ate. She was barely paying attention to the movie. Instead, she was attuned to everything Rome did. His body was relaxed and casual on his side of the bed, legs stretched out. He ate with gusto, devouring his sandwich and chips in a matter of minutes, whereas she picked at her food and barely sipped her beer. He chuckled at the movie now and then, which inspired her to make a token attempt at laughing, as well, so he wouldn’t realize she was paying more attention to the way his foot twitched when he laughed than what was going on on-screen.
“You not going to eat your chips?” he asked at some point, when she was only halfway through her sandwich.
She shook her head and mutely offered him the bag, which he took with a smile of gratitude that made her heart flutter in her chest. She’d have passed him her sandwich, too, if he’d simply smile at her again.
But eventually the food was gone and Elise wiped her hands with a napkin, unsure of what to do with herself now.
Rome kept watching the screen, but he pulled one leg in and leaned forward, unlacing his shoes and then dropping them on the ground next to the bed. Then, he glanced over at her. “You want to take your shoes off? Get a little more comfy?”
“Okay.” She kicked her sneakers off, wiggling her bare toes as she put her legs back on the bed.
He glanced over at her feet. “Cute toes.”
She blushed and looked over at his feet. His socks looked worn and a bit threadbare, and she was pretty sure one toe was about to pop through the fabric. “Cute socks.”
He snorted. “They’re on my list of things to buy on payday.” And he slid an arm around her shoulder and dragged her against him, ever so casually.
Elise stiffened in surprise, her cheek resting on his shoulder. The pillow was still sandwiched between them, pressing against her stomach, but the rest of her was cuddled against him and his arm lay over her shoulders like a blanket. She felt his fingers twitch against her sweater, and then his hand pulled on her long braid. As she watched, his fingers tugged at the band holding the end and then he pulled it off. Her hair immediately cascaded free, and he began to stroke and drag his fingers through the length.
“That’s better,” he murmured, “don’t you think?”
She didn’t respond; she couldn’t. All the words—and air—had been sucked out of her body. Instead, she was acutely aware of the feel of his body against hers, the scent of him, the heat of his skin. She didn’t know where to put her hands. One was trapped against the pillow, but the other was in no-man’s-land. After a moment of indecision, she placed it against his stomach.
That was a mistake. Oh, sweet lord, the man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, did he? She could practically feel lines of muscle under her fingertips, and she wanted to jerk her hand away, because her body was responding to that small touch as if it were starving. Her breasts ached and felt tight, and her pulse felt as if it were throbbing right between her legs.
And his hand kept right on stroking through her hair, his fingers tangling and dragging through in a repetitive, almost soothing motion.
Something exploded on screen and she jumped a little, surprised at the sound.
He turned toward her, ever so slightly, and his mouth seemed inch
es away from hers. “You okay?” he murmured.
She nodded against his shoulder. “Just startled me.”
“You enjoying the movie?”
She couldn’t tell him a thing about the movie, but she was enjoying being here in the bed with him. It was terrifying and wonderful all at once, and yet she couldn’t stop wishing for a lightning storm that would short out the TV and make him pay attention to her.
So she only nodded.
Rome’s hand tugged on her hair again, then released it slowly, and it slid through his fingers. “I love this.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “You do?”
“I do. It’s like silk.” His thumb rubbed on her hair, and she wished, oh she wished that it was rubbing on her body instead. “I keep imagining this falling all over me when we have sex.”
Elise sucked in a breath. She pictured it, her leaning over him, her hair spilling over her shoulder and brushing against his tattooed skin. Her pulse thrummed in response.
His face tilted toward hers again, and their mouths were close. “I keep picturing us having sex a lot, you know. Do you?”
No words formed in her mouth. She wasn’t sure what to say—or even if there was a breath of air left in her body. She’d been picturing sex the entire time they’d been sitting here on this bed, but she wasn’t brave enough to tell him that. A small whimper escaped her throat instead, and her face colored with embarrassment at the sound.
“Is that a yes, baby?” His big body shifted, and he turned toward her, his focus suddenly on her like she’d been hoping for all night. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb stroked over the corner of her mouth. “Is that a yes that’s too shy to come out of your mouth? You been thinking about sex with me?”
Her lips trembled, and her gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth. Words. I need words. But there were no words in her throat. She felt curiously tense, like she’d shatter—or burst into tears—at the slightest movement, and that was silly. But her entire body was on edge.
So she just watched him, her heart in her throat, hope and fear and longing in her eyes.
The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving Page 9