********
Sighing deep and long, I pulled into the parking lot of the Eat-N-Go, just off of Highway 87 in Oklahoma, and parked in a spot towards the back of the lot, resting my head on the steering wheel. It taken me four hours of hard driving to feel like I was far enough way that it was safe to stop. I knew I was full of drama this morning, but I was still aroused from the dream and I could still feel his freaking lips on mine. Distance was key.
Turning the key to the off position, I lifted my head off of the steering wheel, brushed my hair back off of my face, and then tucked it behind my ears.
I was in my standard outfit of cargo pants, a t-shirt, and cowboy boots, and I was back to my standard solitude. Kicking the door open, I jumped down, slammed it shut, and trudged my way to the door as raindrops hit my face. They were a welcome feeling, cool against my skin in contrast to the hot, sticky air, so I didn’t run like most people do- like I used to.
Grabbing the metal handle on the door, I pulled it open and stepped into a direct blast of air conditioning. Okay, so maybe the stroll through the rain hadn’t been such a good idea. Plus, someone needed to tell them they were losing a ton of money in utilities by having a vent right over the door like that.
I approached the hostess stand, and she gave me what was, quite frankly, a creepy smile.
Ignoring it, and doing my best to keep my voice even, I said, “Table for one, please.”
Motioning for me to follow her, she took off to the bowels of the restaurant, deep in the dark back corner, and part of my brain screamed at me that she was planning to kill me back there. This is where things always went wrong for the woman in the movie, stupidly letting down her guard and trusting the one hundred percent creepy person just so she wouldn’t be rude.
I had no problem with being rude, and my reasoning spoke for itself, but I kept walking because I was hungry and I never listened to myself anyway.
When she rounded the corner to the last booth, my body slammed to a squealing stop, but my traitorous heart started to run full force.
What was he doing here?
Noticing my lack of motion, Coleman got up, approached me, and practically dragged me to the table muttering, “Thanks, Jaclynn.”
The previously creepy Jaclynn had turned coy, looking at him from under her lashes and giggling.
Good grief. I don’t know if there was a female alive who would be on my side here. I was also pretty sure this was the reason I had picked up that murderous vibe from her- unabashed jealousy.
My voice only slightly laced with hostility, I muttered, “Do women ever squeeze their legs closed around you or do they always just let them fall right open?” As I spoke, I brought my hands together in prayer position and then popped my fingers and palms apart, the heels of my hands still touching, for emphasis.
A smirk settled on his face as he gave me an unnecessary answer to my rhetorical question. “Well, I haven’t been between your legs...yet. Now sit your ass down and eat, Banty baby.”
I sat down, but as I did, I questioned, “What in the hell are you doing here?”
He shrugged his shoulders, the absolute picture of casual, and said, “I followed you.”
“What? Why on Earth would you freaking follow me, you stalker!”
His face turned serious, and a thinly veiled cord of accusation ran silkily through his voice. “Trust me, they were the four scariest hours of my life. And I ride bulls for a living! You drive like a crazy person. Seriously, bat shit, round the fuckin’ bend, crazy.”
“I drive a lot!” I said defensively, and then added, “And you didn’t have to follow me. That was your own, personal, crazy psycho-stalker choice.”
He leaned forward, his eyes intent and his every movement focused. “Would I have seen you again otherwise?”
Freaking shitdizzle.
A look must have passed on my face because he sat back, put his arm along the back of the booth, smirked, and declared with a strong, steady voice, “Exactly.”
Shaking my head almost violently, I said, “No. You have to go home. I’m going on a chase today.”
He smiled his most boyish smile, the one that reminded me of CJ the most, and retorted, “I’ll go with you.”
No way. I would be so distracted with him there. However, I couldn’t tell him that. It would stroke his already-enlarged ego far too much.
Instead, I hedged, “If you come with me, what are you gonna do with your truck?”
He waved it off, again super blasé, as if having his truck four (more like five for most people) hours away from his house was no big deal.
“We could end up anywhere. Then, not only will you have to wait for me to head back in the direction of Huntsford, you’ll have to come the extra distance to pick up your truck,” I continued to argue.
Surely that would convince him not to come.
“I’ve got the week off of the circuit, so I have lots of free time. Plus, I could get on a plane or have someone pick me up if it were really an issue. We’re good. I’m coming.”
“What about CJ? You should spend your time off with him.”
“Baby, if you think he isn’t pushin’ for this,” he said while gesturing between the two of us. “-you’re nuts. It was my idea to follow you, but he practically pushed me out the door.”
Crap, crap, crap. I searched and searched the recesses of my brain, but I couldn’t come up with anything else to use for my side of the argument.
Defeated, I decided it was time to face reality.
I guess I had a new wingman.
“Well, if I end up getting you killed, you’ll only have yourself to blame,” I grumbled.
He bit his lip and shook his head minutely just before responding, “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I’m confident in your ability. Your ability to chase storms that is. Ability to drive...not so much.”
“Hey, you’ll appreciate my driving when we have a funnel closing in on us, hail and God knows what else pounding the car, and you realize I’m your best chance at survival.”
“I don’t doubt it, Roni.”
“And you have to be quiet. You know, try not to distract me.” As if he wasn’t distracting when he wasn’t verbal.
“Roni.”
“What?”
“Relax. You might actually end up enjoying the company.”
Um, yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.
Nonetheless, I expelled a puff of air and whispered, “Right. Relaxing now.”
“Good. Now let’s eat.”
Maybe he was a freaking magician, or maybe the cute little blonde waitress had been waiting for a cue from him, because not a second later she appeared at the table, ready to take our order.
Having either a particularly childish moment, or perhaps an aneurism, I reached out and squeezed Coleman’s hand in a possessive showing, before smiling at him and murmuring, “Make sure you get something energy sustaining, honey.”
His eyes hit mine, and they didn’t leave them the whole time that he ordered. “I’ll take the steak, medium, and a loaded baked potato. Sweet tea to drink.”
Oh. My. God.
My eyes locked on his unique ones, unable to pull away, like they were loaded with freaking magnets, and I muttered, “Same. Except I’ll take a Coke.”
I needed the caffeine.
Blondie got the message and scuttled away, so I tried to reclaim my hand. But Coleman wouldn’t let it go.
He lowered his voice to a serious, extremely heartfelt timber and murmured, “One day, baby, you’re gonna call me honey, and it’s not gonna be for show.”
My throat bobbed as I forced it to swallow, and I looked down at the table, embarrassed by what I had just done. I had actually let myself react to another woman giving him attention, for the second time, and it made me look crazy. I was pushing him away at the same time that I wouldn’t let anyone else have him.
Shaking my head, I let my shoulders sag as I muttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
/> “Roni, I don’t want you to be sorry for claiming me, I just want you to be sincere while you’re doin’ it,” he said, his voice dripping with hope filled sincerity.
For such a strong, physically intimidating guy, he was so freaking soft. So playful, so generous with affection. So everything I wanted. And everything I didn’t think I could handle.
Being completely honest, I whispered, “I don’t know that I can do that.”
His words were steely when he answered, “I’ve got time.”
I couldn’t comprehend it. I didn’t have low self-esteem, but this man could have anyone. And I meant that in the literal sense. Men, women, anyone would be happy to have him. Anyone who’s heart hadn’t already been shattered.
“Why would you wait for me?” As much as I had tried to keep my tone light and even, it unmistakably came out downright incredulous.
His eyes flickered, and when I saw it, I knew I was going to get a real answer. One that would probably scare the shit out of me.
Mesmerized by him, I watched as he settled in and gave my hand a gentle rub of his thumb before he started his speech. “Because, my little Banty rooster, you challenge me when no one else will. You’re fuckin’ beautiful and have a hot little body, but you put absolutely zero effort into it. You’ve got a sweet side that you just barely let out, but when you do, I can tell it’s one hundred percent genuine. We’ve shared one kiss, and it turned me on more than all of the women I’ve been with in the last six months combined. And I’m talkin’ tits swingin’ in my face, dick buried deep inside these women. Your kiss did more.”
Jesus.
Flabbergasted by his outright, maybe even gruesomely vivid, description, I had to work to catch my breath, but he kept right on talking. “You do somethin’ awesome with your time, chasin’ storms and the adrenaline that comes with that. That speaks to my interests and tells me how smart you are.”
Barely pausing to take a breath, he continued, “You made an impression on my kid the first time you met him, so much so that he called me and told me about you, and he’s never mentioned a woman other than my mother since his own left. Translation...never. Not to fuckin’ mention, the first time I saw you, I just knew. Call it whatever you want, but I had a feeling so strong and distinct that there was no mistaking it.”
I could barely feel my body, let alone form a coherent response, so he kept talking, taking the pressure off of me. “Look, I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but I want to know it, good, bad, or ugly. That’s how I know it’s worth it.”
My heart thrummed painfully in my chest at the idea that this magnificent man thought all of those wonderful things about me. I felt a little bit like I’d just won the lottery; undeniably excited, but worried about all the people that would hound me now that I had the money.
One thing was clear; I wasn’t getting rid of him anytime soon. I might as well enjoy the ride as much as I could for now and deal with my issues when I got to them.
Relaxing into my seat, I let him keep my hand. I figured that was the first step toward making an effort, and it really did feel nice. We sat in comfortable silence until my plate unceremoniously clattered to the table in front of me. I made sure to note that Coleman’s plate got set down gently in front of him.
After shooting me a glare, our waitress left, and I felt compelled to mention, “You know she probably spit in mine, right?”
A smile lit his handsome face, and without saying anything, he picked up both of our dishes and switched them, setting his down in front of me.
I raised an eyebrow in question, so he responded, “Positive reinforcement, Banty. Training 101. If I want you to repeat your possessive behavior, I have to reward it, not punish it. I think spit filled food would be considered punishment. Therefore...” He let his words drift off, but I got the picture.
“But now your food is potentially spit-filled.” After all, this was only an alleged crime.
He didn’t bother to answer me verbally, but instead, shrugged his shoulders, cut off a piece of his steak, and stuck it in his mouth.
Obviously he wasn’t worried about it, so my thoughts about it stopped there.
Glancing down at my watch, I realized what time it was and that we needed to hurry. “Eat fast. We have to get going. Lots of research to do.”
We finished the rest of the meal in silence, both eating as quickly as our digestive systems would comfortably allow.
As we were paying the bill and standing up to leave, Coleman muttered, “If her spit was the main ingredient in that, I’m gonna have to switch dishes with you more often. It was delicious.”
“That’s gross,” I whispered while scrunching up my nose in disgust.
He just chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I let him. Crazy.
We moved to the door, passing our waitress on the way out, and she sent me one last glare for the road. I should probably get used to women hating me. Oh well, nothing new. People in general had been hating me for a few years now.
Coleman pushed the door open and requested, “Just let me get my stuff outta my truck,” squeezing my shoulder as he stepped away.
As he walked away from me, I took the opportunity to watch the way the back of him moved very seriously. He was in his jeans, t-shirt, and boots, like always (not that I was one to talk), and good God, they fit him well.
His jeans formed perfectly to his ass, and he walked the way he did everything else- with ease. The muscles of his back flexed and flirted with me with every step he took.
I was so focused on his back and ass that I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of a car horn blaring from behind me. “Ahh!”
Whipping around, I saw that I had been standing right behind a car that was trying to back out of its spot to leave. Whoops.
I waved my hand and gave the driver a sheepish shrug, but he continued to give me a hard look.
Oh, I was still in the way! Damn Coleman Cade and his brain fog inducing powers!
“Sorry, geez, sorry,” I muttered as I finally jogged out of their path.
There was a girl in the passenger seat, and as they drove out she looked to Coleman, then back to me and gave me a look that said she understood. She also looked a little jealous.
When the offending car cleared my path, I could see Coleman again, bag slung over his shoulder, smirk on his face, and he was sauntering my way.
“Ready to show me your stuff, Banty?”
My mind was in a dirty place from staring at him, so all I could manage was a confused, “What?”
Biting his lip and shaking his head, he put his hand to my hip, and I almost fainted. Oh my God, I had to get it together or I really would end up getting us freaking killed.
“Your technology, knowledge, chasing skills...your stuff.”
Oh, yeah. Of course that’s what he meant. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go.”
********
We were about an hour into, or halfway through, the rest of our drive after leaving the Eat-N-Go. Coleman had been pretty quiet, mostly just observing me. And that was freaking me out.
He had made a show of putting on his seatbelt securely when he first got in, and I had made it a point to tell him what an asshole he was. Which of course, made him burst out laughing.
Now we were cruising along, and while I wasn’t enjoying his careful observation, I was enjoying the silence. Because silence meant no questions.
Just as I was congratulating myself on this nicety with my internal monologue, he burst the bubble.
“So, Roni.”
Crap. Nothing good ever started with a “So, Roni.”
So, Roni. We know you like this Josh boy, but he’s not right for you. He’s taking your focus away from important things.
So, Roni. You actually think you can chase storms with the big boys?
So, Roni. How about we go do what you’ve been begging me for? (Cue inappropriate touching followed quickly by a knee to Max’s balls.)
As far as now was
concerned, I just knew I was about to get hit with a “Tell me about yourself” or some other probing question.
“Where are you from?” Coleman asked.
Well, look at that. I was right. However, as far as these questions went, it was a fairly easy one.
Keeping my answer to a bare minimum, I murmured, “Just outside of Little Rock.”
“Arkansas, huh? Hmm.” I glanced away from the road, looked at him, and saw that he was tapping his fingers against his soft lips.
He pretended to mull that over for a minute and then casually added, “Family?”
Yep. There it was. The dreaded question. Normally, this was a bright spot in someone’s “get to know you” journey. For me, it wasn’t. Not in any way, shape, or fashion. My parents sucked, and everyone else was dead or as good as gone.
“Don’t have any,” I replied curtly, trying to cut off the questions without being an absolute bitch. Unfortunately, I had the feeling I was failing.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and I could see he was putting his kid gloves on, finding his balls, and figuring out how he was going to keep the caged animal that was me calm.
“So-”
Not letting him get any further I blurted, “Don’t.”
His eyes were assessing, his thoughts complex, but his response was simple. “Roni.”
“Please. Ask me something else, just don’t go there,” I pleaded quietly.
“Alright.” He thought on it for just a couple of seconds and then moved on. “How old are you?”
Trying to break the tension I muttered, “You know, you’re not supposed to ask a woman that question.”
“Roni.”
I heaved a breath, and on the exhale answered, “Thirty.”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he murmured quietly, “Ah, that’s perfect.”
It seemed like he hadn’t meant for me to hear that comment, but I had.
My head whipped furiously between looking at the road and glancing at him. “Perfect for what?”
Weighing his options, he waited for a few seconds before answering, “Me.”
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