by Evie Nichole
The parking lot was full. The place was packed, but it was dinnertime and there weren’t exactly a lot of choices when it came to dining experience in this area. The diner probably drew its business from the surrounding ranches for miles and miles. Daphne followed Met to his oversized vehicle. He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in. Thankfully there was a step or she would have never made it.
“There you go,” he murmured. “I might need to add another step for you.”
“Oh, ha, ha.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Is that a short people joke?”
“No. Not at all.” He put both hands on the tops of her thighs. She was sitting with her legs hanging out the door, and now he nudged his way between her knees. “I would never make a joke about your height. I think you are absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I think I would like to be taller,” she admitted. This had always been a bone of contention in her family. “My mother has long, long legs and looks like a model.”
“Is that her description of herself?” He leaned in closer. From this angle and position, he had to look up just a bit to look into her eyes. There was something almost ornery about his gaze. “Because in my experience, model thin women are trying to make themselves sound better than they are.”
“And what are they?” She dipped her head just a bit. The scent of him was dizzying. He was so male and so very masculine.
“They’re scrawny bitches with twiggy legs and bony angles all over.” He chuckled a little, and a shiver shot down her spine. “When I hold a woman”—he slid his hands around to her hips to demonstrate—“I want her to feel like a woman. I don’t want her to feel like a tree or a broomstick.”
His words made her laugh. She giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the silly sound. But he was laughing with her, and that, somehow, made her feel like a million bucks. He accepted her. He appreciated her the way she was. It was intoxicating.
Daphne put her arms around his neck and gently ran her fingers through his hair. The silky stuff was such a dark color. In the muted glow of the truck dome light, it almost looked as though there were streaks of blue mixed in with the black strands.
He closed his eyes as she stroked his head. There was no doubt in her mind that he was enjoying her touch. The knowledge did things to her. She loved the way it felt to know that she was touching a man and he wasn’t thinking about some other woman, or wishing she were taller or thinner, or—well, anything. He was happy with her just the way that she was, and that meant the world to Daphne.
“Kiss me,” Met whispered. “Please?”
How could she resist that invitation disguised as a plea? Her heart was swelling in her chest, and she felt as though someone had just handed her the moon. Excitement and anticipation made her giddy. She traced his jawline with her fingertips and ran the pads of her thumbs over his lower lip. Staring into his blue eyes, she lowered her lips very slowly to his.
The novel sensation of leaning down to kiss him created some fascinating contrasts as she realized that she had a lot more control of their contact from this angle. She cupped his face and moved her mouth over his again and again. She let her tongue slide lightly over his lower lip.
He opened his mouth, and she felt his tongue press against hers. The light touch was erotic. He tasted spicy and male. She sucked lightly on his tongue and felt as much as heard the resulting groan that rumbled in his throat. His arms wound around her waist. He nudged his way farther between her knees, and she gave a little squeak of surprise as he pulled her to the very edge of the truck seat.
Daphne reflexively wrapped her legs around him. She felt the firmness of his chest and abdominal muscles against the warmth of her crotch. Her dress slacks were suddenly far too tight and restrictive. She squirmed in the clothing as everything below her waist went up in flames. Her core began to throb as she made love to him with her mouth.
The sound of their kisses fascinated her. The light smack of lip against lip. The heaviness of ragged breathing filled the cab. She scored his scalp with her nails and reveled in the raw feeling of the emotions coursing through her body. She loved this. She loved him. It was a secret her heart held close, and she marveled at the power of the emotion she was feeling in this moment.
“So beautiful.” He whispered the words against her lips.
Then she nipped his bottom lip, and he grunted and pulled her tongue between his lips to suck on the surface. The pressure was delicious. It sent tendrils of sensation to every part of her body. Her skin was tingling and her nerves were on fire.
His palms settled on her hips and pushed up beneath her blazer and the loose tail of her blouse. The moment his fingers brushed her bare skin, she almost forgot herself. The sensation was exquisite. He gently followed the bumpy contour of her ribs. The light touch was almost tickling, but not quite. It sent a shockwave of excitement through her instead. Blood rushed beneath her skin, and she felt a distinctive heaviness in her body that left her feeling heightened and doubly sensitive.
“You feel amazing,” he murmured.
Met drew back just far enough to stare into her eyes. He smiled as he moved his hands up to cup her breasts beneath her blouse. She could feel only muted sensations through the thin satin of her bra. His thumb rubbed over and over her puckered nipple. He traced a circle around the taut bud until she was arching her back and desperately pushing her breast into his hand.
There was an almost desperate sense of need that began to build in her body. Her eyes slid closed, and she had difficulty catching her breath. She needed more, and yet this was just perfect. She would not have changed a thing except to ask for more and more and more.
His lips brushed her neck. He gently placed a line of kisses across her collarbone. The thin skin was ultra-sensitive. She shivered and tilted her head to give him better access. She could feel his tongue lightly touching her skin. He licked and sucked at her skin before kissing the tantalizing sting away. She felt her body growing hotter and heavier. Something insistent built in her womb.
“Met!” She moaned his name over and over. She wished they were at her home or at his. She wished they were anywhere but this parking lot.
He pressed his forehead against her chest and sighed. His hands moved back down her torso toward her waist. She sucked in a gasp and realized that as hard as she was breathing, he was in the same state.
“Darlin’, you make me crazy,” Met told her roughly. “I’m going to do something very inappropriate right here in this parking lot.”
“I can’t say that I would mind,” she whispered.
On the other side of the parking lot, the front door of the diner burst open. A group of people tumbled out. They were laughing and joking together. There were children with them. Obviously, it would be inappropriate for them to have an actual encounter right here in this parking lot for anyone to witness.
Then Met put his hands back on her thighs. He spread them as far as the truck’s bucket seat would allow. He began to massage the muscle through the thin fabric of her slacks. She sucked in a quick breath of surprise. It felt incredible!
His clever fingers moved closer and closer to the apex of her thighs with each and every circular motion of his hands. He touched her. He stroked her. And every single pass of his hands left her feeling hotter and even more desperate. She squeezed her eyes shut and realized that her hands had settled on his shoulders. She tried not to hold on too tightly. She did not want to hurt him, but the desire she felt in this moment was consuming. It absolutely diluted her reason and left her feeling like a beast ruled by primal urges.
“You’re so soft and sweet,” Met told her. His voice was husky. There was an edge to it that left her with the feeling that he was close to his breaking point as well.
He pressed another kiss to her chest. Her breasts were heavy and throbbing. She cupped his face and lifted his lips. Meshing her mouth to his, she kissed him with every single bit of desperation in her soul. She set her teet
h to his bottom lip. She suckled it delicately until she could feel him straining against her. His hands moved from her thighs to her back. He held her tightly, and she squeezed him with her knees as she tangled her tongue with his and put her need on display.
“Enough,” he whispered. He pulled back, breathing hard. “You’re too perfect. You know that? I’m dying to keep going, but I don’t trust myself to stop.”
“Well, that’s probably the most flattering thing I’ve ever had anyone say to me,” Daphne told him with a smile. “So, I suppose if you want to stop on that note, then I’m not going to say anything about it.”
“I should probably be trying to be more respectful of you anyway.” He sighed and gently took her face between his hands. Then he kissed her forehead. “You’re not a cheap woman to hand over her virtue in a parking lot.”
“I was not aware that modern women possessed virtue,” she said drily. “I mean, come on now.” She lightly rubbed his stubbly cheeks. “That would be against the tenets of feminism, wouldn’t it?”
“I do not pretend to understand all of that.” He sighed and stepped deliberately away from her. “However, my mama did raise me to treat a woman right.”
He tucked her into the passenger side of the truck and carefully closed the door. Daphne watched him run around the front of the hood. He was such a handsome specimen of a man. He was almost more than she could have ever imagined finding. Yet he was not hers, and she had to keep reminding herself of that. She had no idea what this was between them. She didn’t know what he wanted. She did not know what his goals or hopes were for his life after the rodeo. It was impossible for her to anticipate anything with this man. It should have scared her. Yet it did not.
Met climbed up into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The big truck rumbled to life, and Daphne realized that it would not be long before he was dropping her off back at her office so that she could go home to her empty apartment. The thought did not appeal.
“So, do you think this interview will be enough?” Met asked as soon as he had pulled the vehicle back out onto the two-lane highway.
She glanced over at him and tried not to be disappointed. “Why? Are you trying to just be done and go back to your regularly scheduled life?”
“I don’t have a regular schedule,” he said slowly. He kept his eyes on the road. The headlights were on, and there were probably deer waiting to leap across the road. “In fact, I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do with myself now that I’m not riding broncs and bulls anymore.”
“You haven’t thought about what career you’d like to ease into?” She didn’t know why that surprised her so much. “Your brothers all seemed to transition to something that works for them. What about you? What would you like to do?”
“I’ve never thought about it, I guess.” He shrugged it off. “Maybe bartending.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to shoot that idea down without even a second thought. Then she realized that it wasn’t fair to be like that. “Okay. So, you’ve thought about owning a bar? That’s not totally unrealistic.”
“Huh?” He looked away from the road. It was too dark inside the cab to see any details in his expression, but she would have called it dumbfounded. “Seriously? You’re not just telling me out of hand that it’s a bad idea?”
“Of course not.” She swallowed and tried to tell herself that just because she had the thoughts, the fact that she hadn’t voiced them was more important. He needed her support, not her censure and judgment. “It’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t do. You’ve got enough of your own notoriety that you could probably make a decent go of it if you tried to start up a bar that was rodeo themed. Maybe you could host pay per view events. I don’t know. Do they still have mechanical bulls?”
“Wow. That would certainly be an experience.” He seemed to be thinking it through. “I don’t know how I’d get enough capital to start something like that though.”
She shrugged. “You’d ask your family.”
“Bad idea.”
“How about Laredo?” She began to think about this from his perspective. “I realize that asking your brothers for help is not appetizing, but if you think about it, they need to diversify a bit themselves. If they were all partners to some small degree in this enterprise, then they’d have potential income from multiple sources. That’s a bonus. Right?”
“I guess I never looked at it from quite that angle.” He was nodding. Then he reached over and lightly touched her leg. “You’re really smart. You know that? You can cut straight to the heart of something without getting stuck in all of the crap. That’s a rare skill.”
“I don’t know how rare it is.” She felt silly. She was just trying to think about his idea in the realm of possibility. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”
He laced his fingers with hers and raised her hand to his lips. Pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, he smiled at her in a way that made her heart flutter. “That’s what makes you different from anyone else in my world, Daphne. Never underestimate how much that means to me. Never.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sometimes Daphne would experience something that gave her the distinct awareness that chivalry was not dead. Tonight, it was in the way Met stayed parked beside her in the lot right next to her office building until she had started her car and put it in gear. He did not move his enormous truck until she was creeping along in the empty parking lot on her way to the exit. Considering all of the trouble she had been having with Justin lately, there was a certain amount of comfort in knowing that there were no boogeymen hiding in the parking lot, inside her car, or anywhere else near her office building.
She had a smile on her face the rest of the way to her small apartment complex. The place was technically a condo, but she rented hers instead of shelling out a ton of money to buy. Each building had four units, and the best thing about the place was that all of her neighbors kept to themselves and pretty much the rest of the residents minded their own business too. Daphne had no tolerance for nosiness.
Parking her car out front in her usual spot, Daphne was actually humming to herself when she grabbed up her purse and the bag containing her workout clothes. Then she swung her legs out of her car and stood up. She made it to her front walk before she realized that there was a giant-sized box on her porch.
Daphne’s mouth went dry. She stopped walking and stared at the cardboard square. The porch light created a warm yellow circle on the pavement out front, and the box seemed to sit directly in the center of that circle. Daphne hadn’t ordered anything that was supposed to be delivered today. She didn’t even remember ordering anything in the last month that might have been delivered late.
Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and tried not to panic. Panicking was stupid. In fact, if she told anyone else that she was freaking out about an unmarked package on her doorstep, they would just laugh at her. People got packages all the time. That didn’t mean they contained something horrible.
Daphne stared at the package. There were absolutely no markings that suggested it had gone through the mail or any other delivery service. Her name was printed in block letters on the top of the box. The ink was black and thick. Unlocking her front door, she stepped around the cardboard box and walked into her cozy little apartment. She left the front door ajar. Setting her purse and her workout bag on the kitchen counter, she returned her attention to the package. She wasn’t sure what to do. If she phoned the police, it would make her look crazy. Not just crazy—but crazy again. All those months ago when she had broken up with Justin, he had sent all kinds of insane things to her home. The local police had been sick and tired of both her and Justin as they responded to her constant phone calls and pleas for assistance. She had been paranoid and frightened on a daily basis. It had been almost more than she could tolerate.
With that in mind, Daphne reached into her pantry and pulled out the broom. She minced her way back to the front door. The s
olid metal door would at least provide some protection. Right?
Her breathing was shallow, and her palms were sweating. She felt ridiculous and yet terrified. Crouching behind the door, she maneuvered the broom so that the blunt tip was poking out the front door. She groped a bit until she felt the broom handle bounce off the cardboard. With one hard shove, she bounced the cardboard box off the front stoop. She heard it roll over. It sounded as though a liquid splashed inside the box, but there was no boom. That was good. Right?
Then she peered around the edge of the door and realized that a dark stain was spreading across the porch. The scent of gasoline was strong. She pushed her back against the door and heard it click closed. She was having trouble catching her breath as she realized that someone—most likely Justin—had sent her a package that contained something dangerous.
With shaking hands, Daphne used her phone to dial 911. She didn’t want the police here. She did not want anything to do with the police, and yet what choice did she have?
“911 what’s your emergency?” The nasally voice on the other end of the line always sounded vaguely familiar.
Daphne sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold it together. “Yes. My name is Daphne. Someone left a strange package on my doorstep, and it’s leaking gasoline all over the stoop.”
“Ma’am, I want you to move away from the front door to an interior room of your home. Do not approach the package. Don’t go near it. I’m dispatching emergency services to your location immediately.”
“Thank you.” Daphne left the line open, because she knew very well that’s what you did in these situations. Then she moved into her bedroom and curled up inside her closet.
Pulling a pile of spare blankets off the shelf, she drew them around her body and snuggled in. She hated this. She hated the feeling it gave her to be so violated and to feel vulnerable and so very exposed. Yet for the first time she felt as if she didn’t have to be alone. The urge to call Met was so strong she almost could not resist it. She wanted to call or text him or something. She just wanted his strength there with her. She didn’t want to be alone. She was tired of being alone when these things happened.