Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  I heard a motorcycle engine rumbling behind me. Seconds later, West appeared to my left on his bike, slowing down to match my pace.

  “Dropped the keys in your mailbox.” His voice was muffled through his black helmet. Red flames adorned it from either side, and I clutched the ring on my thumb, making a wish like my grandmother had taught me.

  Please let me find you.

  Hot air scorched my lungs. The temptation to collapse on the sidewalk and ignore all my problems was strong.

  “Appreciate it. You have a good night now, St. Claire.”

  He didn’t drive off, checking me out in his lazy, devil-may-care way. “Crisis still in motion?”

  His motorcycle protested with small growls at the slow pace West forced it into. It was ten-thirty. I was sure he had plenty of places to go and people to see. People like Tess. Fun, uncomplicated, without the stipulations I came with.

  “I’ve got it handled.”

  “That wasn’t my question.”

  “Still my answer, though.”

  “Are you always so damn stubborn?

  “Only on days that end with a y.”

  He hit the brake and hopped off the motorcycle like a tiger, tearing the helmet off of his face. His overgrown hair was damp, sticking in every direction in shiny chaotically chopped locks. I stopped, because it was the courteous thing to do.

  A part of me thought maybe tonight it was going to be different. Maybe I wasn’t going to find her after all. I’d never looked for so long. I’d never not-found her all over Sheridan.

  “That’s it. Talk to me, Texas.”

  “Texas?”

  Did he just nickname me, or was I officially losing my mind?

  He shrugged.

  “You say Texan things. Like y’alls, and fixin’ to, and right quick. You drop your g’s like the English language wronged you personally.”

  “I salute to the place I come from, so what?”

  “You’re a small-town gal who probably skins squirrels in her spare time, sitting on a rocker on your front porch, chewing tobacco. Admit it, Texas, you’re … Texas.”

  “I don’t like my nickname.”

  “Tough shit. It stays. Now, tell me what got your panties in such a wad.”

  I sighed, losing steam. “My grandmomma disappeared tonight. Just walked out the door and left her caregiver without sayin’ where. She’s not very lucid, and …” About to give me a heart attack. “Prone to accidents. I’m tryin’ to find her.”

  “See?”

  “What?”

  “Tryin’.”

  “Is that all you took from what I just told you?” I narrowed my eyes to stop myself from crying. I really, really felt like crying. It was on top of my to-do list, in fact, as soon as I found Grams.

  He tucked his helmet under his arm. “Where could she be? Narrow it down for me.”

  “It’s a decade to my grandpa’s death, so I thought maybe I’d try the usual places. The cafeteria where they worked, the cemetery where he’s buried, their old friends …” I trailed off, feeling my eyes flaring as the penny dropped. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” He peered into my face, searching for clues.

  “The diner by the highway. She could’ve gone there. It’s where they first met. She worked the cash register. Grandpa Freddie worked the grill.”

  “Not shirtless, I assume.” He clicked his tongue. But I was so consumed with my new idea, I forgot all about the coincidence. I snapped my fingers.

  “Their first date was there. Yes.” I nodded. She’d told me all about it. How they’d stayed after their shift was over. How she’d dragged him behind the counter and kissed him senseless. “Grams would go there. Of course she would.”

  “Better haul ass there, then.”

  “Good idea.”

  I turned back, marching toward my house to get my Chevy, before stopping, my back still to West.

  “Crap.”

  “Hmm?” I could practically hear the grin in his voice. He hadn’t moved an inch, knowing he had me in his pocket.

  “It’s outside Sheridan limits, about ten miles out. They closed the road for the fair tonight. The only way through is the old dirt road, and I can’t drive there with my pickup.”

  My Chevy was my age, and just like me, not in pristine condition. Besides, it was more of a path, rather than a road. I didn’t think the pickup would fit in there, in the first place.

  Walking the dirt path wasn’t a grand idea either. It was sandwiched between cornfields. There were bobcats, coyotes, and all kinds of animals roaming about.

  “We’ll take the bike.” West reappeared in my periphery.

  “Since when are we a collective we?” I spun on my heel to face him, popping an eyebrow.

  “Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”

  “No.”

  “That makes us a collective we. Geez, Tex, for a smart girl, you sure are kinda stupid.”

  He shoved his helmet into my hands. I caught the heavy thing but didn’t make a move to put it over my head. I stared at him, dumbfounded. I opened my mouth to decline his crazy, albeit sweet, offer, but he raised his palm up, stopping me.

  “Spare me the bullshit. You’re in no position to turn me down, and I’m definitely not gentleman enough to insist on it.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

  “No, I’ve got things more fun to do with my time.” He tsked. “Nothing beats helping a friend in need.”

  A friend.

  Something about the way he said it completely undid me.

  I felt weak. Raw. I hated to be the recipient of his assistance.

  If we were going to do this, I needed to give him a fair warning.

  “My grandmomma is … a character,” I warned cautiously.

  “Thank fuck. Everyone else in this town seems to be clinically boring. Hop on.” He slapped the leather seat of his motorcycle.

  “Do you have another helmet? For yourself?”

  West snatched the helmet from my hands, tossed my ball cap to the ground, and shoved the helmet over my head in one swift movement. He secured it over my chin, tugging the buckle.

  He got on the bike and jerked his chin.

  “Hop. The. Fuck. On.”

  I stuffed my ball cap into my back pocket quickly, ducking my head down. The helmet was unexpected heavy and squeezed the heck out of my cheeks.

  “I don’t want you to ride without a helmet.”

  I didn’t want him to risk his life for me. Between illegal fighting and riding a motorcycle, he seemed to be doing a fine job trying to die all on his own. He didn’t need my help.

  He ignored my words, screwing his fingers into his eye sockets, shaking his head, clearly exasperated.

  “Get on here before I fling your ass over it like a sack of potatoes. Fair warning: I won’t be gentle.”

  I took a step in his direction, feeling my resolve cracking.

  “And watch Christina’s paint,” he snarled.

  “Christina?”

  “After Christina Hendricks.” He patted the shiny red neck of the motorcycle with his rough hand. “They’re my favorite redheads.”

  “Good thing only one is stupid enough to let you ride her. And she ain’t got a pulse,” I deadpanned.

  He stared at my helmeted head for a beat before throwing his head back and laughing with pure, electrifying joy that zinged through my veins, making my blood bubble. Watching the row of pearly whites inside his mouth confirmed my initial suspicion he had a smile that brought women to their knees.

  Men too, probably.

  I slid my leg over the seat behind him. My whole body quivered with anxiety and adrenaline. I’d never felt so scared and alive.

  “Scoot forward,” he barked.

  I did. The engine rumbled like a feral animal beneath me.

  “Now press yourself against me.”

  “That’s more of a third-date move for me.”

  West laughed again. His laugh sounded throa
ty, smoky, almost foreign—like he was unused to being happy.

  “It’s either cozying up to the campus asshole or blowing in the wind like a deflating balloon. Your call, Tex. I’m going to get my fun in either scenario.”

  West St. Claire had the uncanny ability to do nice things and still act like a complete and utter jerk about it.

  Reluctantly, I flushed my chest against his back, my head nestling between his shoulder blades. I closed my eyes and breathed, reminding myself I didn’t have the luxury of being prudish right now.

  “Wrap your arms around me, real tight.”

  I looped my arms over his body. I could feel the individual ridges between his six-pack, and my heart began to pound so fast I was sure he’d be able to feel it through his thin shirt.

  We sliced the still air, shooting across the road like an arrow. West angled his body forward. I clasped him harder, stunned by the way we were balanced on his motorcycle, even when the concrete beneath us turned into gravel, and eventually, bumpy dirt. His shirt tossed about like a flag, and the biting rush of the wind against my skin took my breath away. Every inch of my body tingled with goose bumps.

  “Get outta that head, Texas. Nothing good is going on there right now.” The wind blurred his words. Fortunately, he rode slow enough that I could hear anything at all.

  “If only I’d noticed the date, Grams would be home and safe,” I murmured into his helmet. I was engulfed by his scent. Male and soap and sweet, heady danger.

  I could get lost in that smell if I let myself. I wondered if that was how Grams felt about Grandpa Freddie. If his presence got her deliriously drunk with euphoria.

  “Are you always so hard on yourself? Don’t answer only on days that end with a y.”

  “It’s my job to take care of her. She raised me.”

  “You can take care of someone without blaming yourself for all their problems.”

  “Clearly, you’ve never taken care of someone.”

  “Clearly, you’re talking out of your ass,” West countered, his voice turning arctic and biting. I’d obviously hit a nerve.

  “My ass still makes more sense than your mouth,” I ground out.

  And just like that, he was back to laughing at my outrageousness. The fact I talked back to him.

  “Don’t know about that, sweetheart, but it’s a great ass, so I enjoy listening.”

  He was so different from what I expected. Like he tucked his fun, lighthearted personality somewhere people couldn’t find it to keep them at arm’s length.

  “Back it up, cowboy. If that’s why you’re helpin’ me, you can drop me here and turn back around. I’m not that type of girl.”

  “What type would that be?” His tone turned sultry, taunting.

  “The type to find herself beneath you because you gave her a crumb of your attention.”

  “On top of me works, too.”

  “Keep this up, and the only weight you’ll be feeling is my pickup over your body.”

  “I’m playing, Texas. I’d never hit on you. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Besides, I don’t stick around beyond one hookup, and no offense, but you seem like a lot of work. This is a pure, altruistic favor I’m doing for a friend.”

  There it was again. Friend. It was the second time he’d called me that.

  “It is?”

  “Scout’s honor. I don’t expect anything back, other than your endless admiration.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  I knew enough about West to gather he wasn’t the sweet and helpful type, and this had nothing to do with the rumors. He was a sour-faced caveman on campus.

  “Nice is a big word.” We were edging closer to the intersection that had been blocked. I looked left and right, frantically trying to spot Grams. “I’m just not a complete piece of shit to you. Guess it throws you off-kilter.”

  “People aren’t shitty to me,” I protested.

  “Let’s agree to disagree.”

  “If you’re talkin’ about Reign and the girls you were with the other night, it’s on them, not on me.”

  “It’s on them that they’re assholes. It’s on you that you roll over and play dead.”

  “I don’t remember you bein’ so cordial either.”

  “No,” he agreed, not a trace of apology in his voice. “Next time, you have my permission to pour slushie over my head and kick Reign in the nuts.”

  I was about to answer him when I spotted Grams. She was hard to miss, in her full, blue and red sequined evening gown, bright pink lipstick, and heels.

  She had her hair fluffed and sprayed—the higher the hair, the closer to God—and she was holding the little clutch she carried to church every Sunday back when we still went. She crossed the road, on her way to the diner.

  “Stop!” I shrieked.

  He did, coming to a halt without slowing down. Mud sprayed around us, and I lurched forward, my chest colliding with his back. West snaked an arm around me awkwardly, catching me by the waist.

  “Found her,” I said breathlessly, dismounting from the bike. My legs were shaking. “Thank you. She’s the one in the Diana Ross gown across the street. I’ll get her home right away.” I took the helmet off, knowing I must’ve left traces of foundation inside it, and planted it in his hands. I screwed my ball cap back on my head. “Have a good night now, West.”

  I ran across the road, nearly tackling Grams to the ground. She spun slowly at the thuds of my feet, the smile on her face collapsing into a frown when she spotted my approaching figure.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. What are ya doin’ here, Gracie-Mae? You should be in bed. Tomorrow’s a school day.”

  Grams swatted her purse against her thigh. Her forehead was damp from the long walk on the dirt road, her shoes caked with mud.

  How old does she think I am?

  “Just wanted to tag along.” I came to a halt, an angelic smile plastered on my face.

  “Sugar, I’ve got a date with your grandpa. Can’t we do somethin’ tomorrow?”

  I shook my head violently. The smile on my face was as painful as a wound and just as tight. She thought Grandpa was still alive.

  “Please. I really want to join you, Grams.”

  She opened her mouth, about to scold me again, when her eyes widened, lighting up at something behind me. I turned on my heel. My face immediately fell.

  Please, Lord, no.

  “Good evenin’, Mrs. Shaw. How’re we doin’ tonight?” West swaggered toward us, a candy cane clasped between his perfect teeth, his bastard smirk on full display. The crinkles behind his shamrock eyes reminded me of Scott Eastwood.

  I wondered what the deal was with the old-school candy. He’d always favored the same green apple flavor. “Fine weather, no?”

  “Lovely.” She fluffed her sprayed do, which remained as stiff as a rock. “I don’t believe we’ve met before?”

  Grandma Savvy extended an arm in West’s direction. He plucked it, bowing his head and brushing her knuckles with his lips, temporarily removing the candy from his mouth.

  “We haven’t, much to my dismay. West St. Claire. I work with Grace.”

  “Why, she hasn’t mentioned you, I’m afraid.”

  The look he shot me nearly made me giggle. He looked genuinely surprised. I had a feeling this was the first time a woman he knew didn’t make him the center of her universe.

  “That so?” He narrowed his eyes at me, sticking the candy back into his mouth, biting it until it crunched. I shrugged.

  “Would you and Gracie-Mae like to join Freddie and me for a bite?” Grams asked.

  It was half past eleven, and she looked a mess. Her feet must’ve hurt bad; she wasn’t used to walking much. Besides, I really didn’t want Sheridan University’s baddest bad boy to spend one-on-one time with my chaotic grandmomma, no matter how shallow and ungrateful that made me feel.

  “No!” I yelped at the same time West said easily, “Now, that’s a plan.”

  Grams looked between
us, raising an eyebrow.

  “You kids need a minute to decide?”

  My cheeks felt so hot I was surprised my head didn’t combust. Dying of embarrassment would be cruel, but also welcome at this point.

  “West just got off a shift. I’m sure he wants to go home.”

  “West can think for himself, and what he wants is a steak and good company.” West pushed me aside crudely, rolling the candy stick in his mouth seductively, flashing a rakish, well-practiced smirk my grandmomma’s way.

  “Where’re your manners, Gracie-Mae? The man’s hungry, and he is asking to tag along, nice and proper. I raised her better than this, I swear.”

  “Don’t doubt it for a second, ma’am.”

  West opened the diner’s door for us. Grams strutted in first. He wiggled his brows at me, a taunting sneer on his face.

  “Ladies first.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I bared my teeth.

  He let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “How much time have you got, kid?”

  I punched his arm as I dragged my feet past the door.

  He laughed.

  He actually laughed.

  Like the idea of me inflicting any kind of harm on him was ludicrous.

  “Did you lose a bet?” I whisper-shouted as we fell into step together.

  “Did you lose your fucking mind?” he countered, sizzling of quiet danger I couldn’t understand how Grams didn’t pick on. “It’s just a meal, and your ass is not even on the menu.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s not weird that you want to spend time with me and my grandmomma.”

  I was Toastie, and she was a couple sandwiches shy of a picnic. Everybody knew that. Even if he hadn’t, the last ten minutes had brought him up to speed, surely. Why was he going out of his way to befriend me?

  “Not everything is about you, Texas. In fact, very few things are. It’s a blessing and a curse, really. Knowing the world doesn’t revolve around your sassy little ass. Sometimes a guy just wants a steak.”

  “I—”

  He cut me off briskly. “Hungry. Outta my way. Now.” He jerked his head, signaling me to move along.