He peeled the leather gloves from his hands and unfastened the strap under his chin to remove his helmet. I admired the fact that he was infinitely more patient than most guys would have been around a hysterical woman beating on them with a bag the size of New Hampshire. He glanced at me, narrowing his steel gray wolf-like eyes. He swung a leather chap covered leg over the bike and sized me up in much the same way I’d covertly been doing with him.
He faced me and blatantly checked me out from head to toe and back again. He was tall, about six-four with wavy, black as midnight hair. The thought that his soul was probably just as black popped into my thoughts unbidden. That gut instinct, along with his gaze, caused me to shiver involuntarily. I thought it was the late fall night air on my still damp skin, but quickly realized it was coming from within.
I bit my bottom lip and thrust my hand toward him, “Hey. I’m Jaq.”
A smile from a mouth full of perfect, glow-in-the-dark white teeth crept across his face; he bumped knuckles with me and said, “I’m Damon Blackwell. Remember that name. You’ll be screaming it out one of these nights. Repeatedly.”
It takes a lot to shock me, but shock me, he did. I didn’t even know what to say to a comment like that and before I could close my mouth and think of something, he turned and strode across the parking lot toward his sisters purple — no eggplant — car.
My eyes were shamelessly glued to his backside as he walked away. He had more swing in his hips than most women, giving him a slow, sexy swagger. Dani leaned in, “He’s showing off. Don’t let that walk fool ya. It’s really because one of his legs is shorter than the other and not because he’s perfected some sort of swoon worthy stroll. I’ve seen more girls lose their panties because of that walk than I care to remember.”
A smile crawled across my face, “That right?” Sounds like a challenge to me.
She frowned, “Yeah. Believe me Jaq, do yourself a huge favor and stay away from Damon Blackwell. He’s the worst kind of bad news. Trust me,” she muttered and popped open her purple umbrella. She tottered off after him, unsuccessfully dodging waterlogged potholes in her high heels. “I better give the Neanderthal my keys.”
“I thought you said he wouldn’t work on your car?” I called after her.
She turned and shook her head, “Oh he’ll get in, turn the key and when it doesn’t start, he’ll go all Bill Engvall about it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked walking behind her.
“You know? Car won’t start. Hmph. Here’s your sign.” She laughed at her own joke.
Damon was half in and half out of the tiny car as we approached. He complained about the tight fit and snapped at his sister, “Give me the keys already.”
She lobbed the keys at him and he swiped them out of the air before they connected with his perfect face, which is where I’m certain she had aimed. He turned the key in the ignition and the battery was so drained it only moaned a short protest. “Damn thing won’t start.”
She glanced over shoulder at me and I stifled a laugh, “I’ve got jumper cables. We can try to jump it?” I offered. I didn’t wait for his response before I turned to jog toward my car.
When I pulled up nose to nose with her car, I left mine running and went around to grab the jumper cables out of the trunk. I handed them to Damon who at the moment seemed to have lost his gift of cocky. He was staring with his mouth hanging open at my car. “A 1973 Dodge Charger? You drive a 1973 Dodge Charger with a four-forty Magnum?”
“Yeah? Why? What’s wrong with my car?” I planted my fists on my hips.
His eyes smiled and a dimple carved into one of his cheeks. “Nothing. Just didn’t figure you for the muscle car type that’s all.”
“It was my dad’s,” I shrugged.
“That explains it,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me? Explains what?” I felt irritation start to prickle at the back of my neck.
“You have to forgive my brother. He thinks a woman with a fast car is just a waste of gas and horsepower,” Dani said.
“Pretty much,” he agreed.
I sucked my lower lip in between my teeth, biting off what I wanted to say, but decided he wasn’t worth having a heated debate with. I’d probably never see him again and if he chose to live with such a sexist attitude, more power to the asshole.
Once Damon had the cables connected between the two cars he motioned for Dani to get behind the wheel of the Mazda and try to start it. It groaned for a few seconds before finally sputtering to life. Dani waved at me with a broad smile, “Thanks for your help, Jaq. Nice to meet you.”
I waved back, “You too.”
Damon gathered the jumper cables and handed them to me, “Dani can give you my number,” he winked. “See ya around.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I replied and slammed the door. I knew I shouldn’t let him get under my skin, but he did. He was the kind of man all dads warned their little girls about. All of the bad qualities rolled up into one neat little package. I held on to those thoughts and tried to convince the horny she-devil inside of me that I wasn’t the least bit intrigued by him. That he didn’t smolder like sex on a stick, all while praying I never ran into him after a few shots of tequila.
Chapter 7
Saturday morning bright and early Shelley and I carted the boxes I’d already packed down the stairs and sat them outside the front door. I figured the more we had ready to load into Brad’s truck, the less he’d whine about missing his beauty sleep. Plus, we had a party to go to that night and the sooner we got things moved into the new apartment the better since I planned to sleep there after the party.
Brad finally showed up around nine. “Hey sleeping beauty, you’re late,” I told him with the best fake angry voice I could manage. He grinned sheepishly and the tops of his ears turned red the way they always did whenever he was embarrassed. His eyes were glassy and he reeked of last night’s Jack Daniels and stale cigarette smoke.
“Sorry Jaq, it was a late night,” he gave me an apologetic shrug.
I planted my hands on my hips and shook my head, “I hope she was worth it.”
He turned away from me and I grinned as his ears turned completely beet red, “I’ll start loading some of this stuff,” he said and unhooked the two-wheel cart from where he had it strapped into the bed of his truck.
I giggled at his smooth change of subject and Shelley swatted me, “Stop teasing that poor boy. His ears are going to catch fire.” We laughed and went back upstairs to haul down several boxes of books. “Tim’s coming over to help but he can’t be here until ten. We’ll put the furniture in his truck.” The meager amount of furniture I owned consisted of a bed, dresser, an antique rocker that had belonged to my grandma Carter, a nightstand and some other odds and ends. Most of my belongings were books, clothes and a collection of butterfly figurines.
“Sounds good. Here, help me with this mattress,” I said and tossed the sheets and blankets to the side. We worked at sliding the queen sized mattress off the box springs and leaned them against the wall. I got the cordless screwdriver and started to take the bed frame apart while we waited for Shelley’s boyfriend, Tim, to arrive with his pickup.
“You riding with us to the party tonight?” Shelley asked.
“I was thinking about driving my own car,” I said.
Her forehead creased, “You are so not taking the Charger out there.”
“Why not?”
“Why? Because this party is on thirty acres out in the middle of a field that used to be full of cows and cow shit. Not to mention, it’ll be muddy as hell with all the rain we’ve had. And, the only road is a narrow dirt path with ruts deeper than your Charger is tall. You’re riding with Tim and me,” she narrowed her eyes to wait for the challenge as to all the reasons why I hated to tag along with her and Tim. She especially hated the Threes a Crowd argument I used most of the time.
I rolled my eyes, “Fine. I’ll ride with you guys.”
“You could always ride with me,”
Brad offered from the doorway. “Be my DD.”
Shelley crouched beside me on the floor with her hands on her thighs and snorted, “Right. Last time I saw either of you at a party you were both so drunk you couldn’t hit your ass with both hands.”
I bumped her off balance with my shoulder and she landed on her butt, “What? I don’t have to get completely obliterated every time I go to a party you know.” I smiled up at Brad, “I’d love to ride with you.”
He smiled a sweet grin and stuck his tongue out at Shelley, “It’s a date,” he said. He gathered an armload of clothes I had heaped on the chair and headed back downstairs.
“Now you’ve done it,” Shelley muttered.
I quirked an eyebrow at her, “What did I do?”
She sighed heavily and said, “Brad Hayes has had a crush on you since he first laid eyes on you and now you’ve just agreed to go on a date with him. Way to go Jaq. Just don’t break the poor boy’s heart.”
“You are so off base,” I blinked. “Brad is a big teddy bear. He’s like a brother to me. We are absolutely just friends. And it is not a date.”
“It’s your story, make it a good one.” She tugged her frizzy brown hair back into a knot at the base of her neck. “I’m just sayin’, he follows you around like a lost puppy dog so be gentle with him, okay?”
Brad’s truck was crammed full, so I shoved some more of my things into my car and told him to follow me to the new apartment while Shell waited at the house for Tim. I helped Brad unload the boxes and he helped me carry in the armloads of my clothes from the backseat of the Charger. “Hey wait up!” I called after him. I bent over to retrieve one of my lacy red bras that had fluttered to the sidewalk and dangled it in the air, “You dropped this.”
The tops of his ears turned redder than the bra in my hands and he glowered at me through the wispy fringe of his bangs. When I flung the bra in his direction like a sling shot, he muttered curse words and stomped towards the front door. Okay, so maybe I did enjoy teasing him. A little. But it was all just good natured fun.
When Tim and Shelley came with my furniture, Brad and Tim put my bed frame together while Shelley and I moved some of the boxes where they belonged to unpack later. Shelley still had another week in the house she’d been renting with three other girls and planned to move her things in next weekend. So, I had the apartment to myself for a week.
“Babe?” Tim hollered for Shelley from the front door. “I better get going so I can take a shower before we head to the party. You staying here or what?”
“No, take me back to my car. I have to get ready at my place.” She slid the box of books she’d been unpacking off to the side and put her hands on her hips to survey our progress. “Not too bad for a day’s work. Are you sure you don’t want to ride with Tim and me?”
“I’m positive. I’ll see you there later,” I waved her off. “Stop worrying would you? My going to the party with Brad is no big deal.”
“Tell him that,” she snorted.
Chapter 8
When Brad came to pick me up, I switched on the little lamp I’d put on the floor of the entryway as a temporary nightlight and locked the front door behind me. I shoved the house key into the pocket of my jeans and pulled my hoodie down over my hair that was still damp from my shower.
Brad beamed at me from the driver’s seat and I crawled up in to the passenger side. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I was overcome by his cologne. I fanned my face, “Shit Brad. You bathe in that stuff?”
“I didn’t have time to take a shower,” he shrugged and his ears blushed.
My mouth formed an “O,” and I shook my head, “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I am,” he chuckled. “Sort of.”
The party was off the main road and accessible by way of a dirt road which was little more than a one lane path carved in between the trees. Brad’s 4x4 made the rutted road seem ten times as bumpy as it probably was and twice I banged my head into the top of the cab. I glared sideways at him, “Could you maybe go a little faster?” I asked and thumbed back over my shoulder behind me. “I’m pretty sure you missed a pot hole back there.”
“Woman, don’t you start bitching about my driving,” he teased. “It’s a whole lot better than walking.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I muttered.
“Shit,” Brad swore and slammed on the brakes. “I forget about this damn bridge every time.” In the fading daylight I was barely able to make out the reflectors on either side of the narrow bridge. We eased across and I held my breath as I looked down over the edge into the water below.
“Come here often?” I teased. The glove box door flopped open and I couldn’t help but notice the box of Trojan’s inside. “Big boy?”
His ears blushed and he reached over to slam the compartment door closed. He said, “The Garrett brothers used to have two or three parties a year out here before the oldest one went off to college.”
“So who’s putting on the party tonight?”
“Damon Blackwell.”
I sucked in a big gulp of air and started to sputter, “Damon Blackwell?”
“Yeah,” Brad didn’t take his eyes off the road when he asked, “Why? You know him?”
“We’ve met,” I said quietly.
The road ended in a large field that had already started to fill up with pickups and various off road vehicles. Brad parked his midnight blue Ford next to a muddy yellow and black Jeep. I didn’t have to open the door to hear the music blasting out of the concert-sized speakers. He reached for my hand and I let him tug me along toward the source of the noise.
“Before we get this starty parted,” Brad joked and stopped abruptly right in front of me. “Are you staying sober tonight or am I?”
I scanned the area; there must have been a hundred kegs. I whistled softly, “You got hammered last night, and probably the night before that. Give your liver a rest tonight.”
He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose into an ugly face, “My liver will probably go into shock if I take a night off. But I suppose one night won’t hurt. I’ll do it for you, Jaq.” His ears flushed red and he squeezed my hand.
I spotted Shelley standing in line for the Porta-potty and dropped Brad’s hand. “There’s Shell, I’ll catch up with you later.”
He nodded, already heading off toward a cluster of guys I recognized from school, “Behave Jaq,” a gapped toothed smile split his face.
“As if,” I shouted after him.
When Shelley was done using the green toilet, which leaned a little too far to the right for my liking, we made our way through the people knotted around the kegs. We each poured a cup of beer and I followed her over to stand near the bonfire which was actually more like a miniature towering inferno. She rubbed her hands in front of her to warm them. The breeze picked up and wafted a huge puff of smoke in our direction so we slid around to the other side of the blaze. I tried not to lose sight of Brad to make sure he didn’t go back on his word and would stay sober enough to get us both home in one piece at the end of the night.
Several hours later, Shelley and I sat on the tailgate of someone’s pickup when I got a creepy sensation, like someone was watching me. I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced around at the people scattered about. I was about to chalk it up to the amount of beer I’d consumed and my overactive imagination when I spotted him.
Damon Blackwell had me locked in his sights and a lazy smile crept across his beautiful face. His squared jaw was shadowed with day old stubble. He took a long drag off his cigarette and flicked it into the fire, never once moving his wolfish eyes off of mine. Like a moth fascinated by the light of a dangerous bug zapper, I found myself unable to look away. I couldn’t even blink or breathe during the two-minute standoff between his eyes and mine. I swear I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. The connection was lost when someone waved a bottle of José Cuervo in front of his face. I watched his wavy black hair kiss his shoulders as he tipped his head back
and swallowed a big gulp of the amber-colored alcohol.
Shelley tugged on my arm, forcing me out of my daze, and asked if I wanted her to get me another beer. I hopped off the tailgate and drained the last swallow from my cup trying to wash down the baseball-sized lump lodged in my throat. I handed her my empty cup and nodded, “Yeah, why donât you see if you can find us some tequila.”
“Oh hell no,” she crossed her arms in front of her. “You know what that stuff does to you.”
“I’ll behave,” I smiled and drew an imaginary X across my chest. “I swear.”
Smart girl that she is, she didn’t buy the lie, “Of course you won’t.”
When I turned back to where Damon had been standing, he was gone. My eyes darted around as I tried to pick him out of the crowd. My mouth tipped into a half frown.
“Looking for someone?” Damon breathed into my hair and sparks shot down the back of my neck.
Involuntarily, my shoulders drew up to my ears, trying to squelch the shivers that had erupted inside of me, “Not you,” I said, trying my hardest to sound indifferent.
“Maybe you’re looking for this?” He held up the bottle of tequila, and my inner lush did invisible back flips around the bonfire. I reached for the booze and he yanked it out of reach. “Ooh, you like?”
“If you’re not going to share,” I pushed away from him on wobbly legs, praying they held me upright. “I’ll just go find someone who will.” I started to walk off and his hand shot out, snaking around my wrist with an iron-like grip. I looked first at his hand and then at the cocky expression on his face. My reflexes were dulled by the beer I’d consumed and the intoxicating way his eyes seemed to see through my usually hidden vulnerable side. Before I could yank free from his hold, his lips were on mine. It’s a damn good thing he still held me tightly in his grasp because I’m pretty sure my knees melted into a puddle. The warm kind of puddle that made me ache to fist clumps of his black hair through my fingers and wrap my long legs around his waist.
Different Roads Page 3