by C. J. Pinard
Turning around to head back to her, I almost yelled when I saw her standing right behind me. She had startled me so badly, I instantly became angry. I don’t know why being scared makes me angry, but it just does, and I’m still learning to control it. Impulse control, however, I hadn’t mastered. I shoved two of the blankets in her arms and said, “Here, take these and pile them on your bed until it warms up in here.”
She looked like she wanted to say something but I didn’t let her. I stormed into my room and slammed the door with a huff. I then realized I’d left my toothbrush and paste in the kitchen but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going back out there.
I’d slept like absolute shit in that tiny bed. Plus it never really warmed up. I’m a warm-blooded guy, but unless I have a naked body next to me in a house this cold, I really couldn’t create my own heat.
Checking my watch, I could see it was 6 a.m. I scrubbed a hand over my face and flipped the covers back. I needed to check on the vic.
Yawning, I lightly knocked on her door. I didn’t get a response, so I knocked louder. Still no response. Seeing as the doorknob was still missing and lying on the floor in front of the door, I crouched down in nothing but my sweatpants and peered through the empty hole. Rayanne was lying in bed, her back to the door, all the blankets piled on top of her. Her blonde hair was over her face and I watched intently for movement to make sure she was still breathing. I stared at her a little too long, I realized, and turned to go back to my room. I wanted to grab a shower before she woke up and hogged the fucking bathroom.
The shower was hot and it felt good. I soaped up my body and was annoyed at the damn hard-on that wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t believe I was hard just by watching her sleep. I kept fighting with myself, saying I didn’t find her hot. She’s just the vic and I’m her protector for the next ten… no, nine days. Keep it professional, I told myself. Did my dick listen? No, of course not. It stayed hard, imagining her in the shower with me, soaping me up, her small, pale hands with those pretty fingernails running up and down my body. From the tops of my shoulders, down my biceps, wrists, to my hands, and then my abs. Then she’d bend down to soap up my hard thighs, then calves, then feet. She’d work her way back up until her hand wrapped around my hard length and then she’d start soaping that up, too. Up and down until it was really, really… clean.
Clean?
A knock on the door dragged me from my lusty thoughts and I rinsed off quickly and shut the water off. Without drying off completely, I wrapped the small towel around my waist and slid the shower curtain back, opening the bathroom door with as much thrust as I could.
Rayanne’s eyes were big, her mouth in a small “O” that I wanted to fill up with something. My hands instinctively went down to my crotch, protecting my not-so-secret secret.
“What?” I asked.
“Uh…” she started.
I huffed and raked my fingers through my wet black hair. “What do you want, Blondie?”
“I… I just needed to use the bathroom,” she stammered.
I looked down at her hand to see some sort of feminine product in it. She quickly hid it behind her back but I had seen it. I suppressed a gag and looked into her eyes. “Give me two minutes.” And then I closed the door.
Scrubbing my teeth quickly and slapping on some aftershave, I hung the towel up over the bar and slid my athletic shorts up. I didn’t bother collecting my toothbrush and paste, I left them on the outdated countertop and opened the door. Steam billowed out and I made my way past Rayanne and into my room, closing the door behind me.
Feminine products… no wonder she’d been so bitchy. That explains it. She’d barely said two words to me on that tortuous twelve-hour drive from Florida to here. Thank God for the radio because I was going insane. I hated road trips as it was, but with silence, it was torture.
Don’t get me wrong, I hated it when chicks babbled on and on. I had a girlfriend once who apparently couldn’t handle the silence and would just jabber on and on about stupid shit like her job and her family. I seriously wanted to punch something every time she spoke. It didn’t help she had the most annoying high-pitched voice ever.
Yeah, that was annoying, too. But complete silence, and having the vic staring out the window the whole time was almost just as bad. For fuck’s sake, just say something.
Back in my room, I sat on the bed, my head down, my hands cradling my face. I still had the thick hard-on irritating me under my shorts but I ignored it. With a huff I got up and put some clothes on. Plucking my phone from the table beside my bed, I checked it to see I had no missed calls or texts. I hadn’t expected much, but if they’d at least checked in on me, that would have been nice. It was as if they didn’t give a shit at all.
And they probably didn’t.
Chapter 10
Rayanne
I took care of business in the bathroom, including a shower, and went into my room to get dressed. I had only brought a small case with me with a few outfits and bare essentials as far as toiletries and makeup go. Unfortunately, I did not bring enough… feminine products.
After getting dressed, I wandered out into the small house and found Duke cooking in the kitchen. It smelled good and I stood in the doorway watching him. His jeans fit his butt perfectly and that light gray T-shirt he wore hugged every muscle in his back – which was huge. His arms were already straining the sleeves of the shirt but his back was rippling as he moved. It tapered down into a trim waist. He had a belt holding his pants in place, and I grinned.
Without turning around, he grunted, “If you want coffee, it’s in the pot.” He used his spatula to point to the right.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you heard me come in.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. I smelled you.”
Oh, crap.
“Uh, well, I just showered, so, I hope it was a good smell,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
He was always so damn grumpy. I decided while I had been in the shower that I was going to make it my mission to break through his hard shell. I don’t know why he was so hardened and grouchy, but the more time I spent with him, the more I really wanted to know why he was that way. I also noticed he walked with a limp. It was slight, but I could see it, and I was curious about that, too. I wonder if he got shot. He is in the FBI, after all. I think.
Pouring myself some coffee into an old ceramic mug I’d found in the cupboard, I planted myself in one of the wooden chairs of the outdated dining room table set.
“So what are you cooking?” I asked.
“Bacon and eggs. Not the most exciting breakfast, but they only stocked the fridge with the bare essentials, and honestly, I was surprised to see bacon in there.”
“I see, well that sounds good. I’m starved.”
He nodded and used the spatula to move the food onto a plate. I got up to grab it but he walked toward me and set it before me. Surprised by the nice gesture, I said, “Thanks, Duke.”
“No problem,” he replied.
Sensing he was in a better mood than he had been in the bathroom earlier, I decided to waste no time asking him what I needed to ask. After swallowing a bite of eggs, I said as he sat in front of me and shoved a fork into his eggs, “I am going to need to find a store of some kind. I need a couple things.”
He shoved the eggs in his mouth and looked at me with those dark blue eyes. They were framed by long, black eyelashes and I almost choked at the look he gave me. It was a look I’ve never seen before, and I couldn’t quite figure it out.
“What?” I asked.
He swallowed his food and I watched his sexy Adam’s apple bob up and down.
Sexy Adam’s apple? What the hell is my problem?
“What could you possibly need at the store?” he asked, picking up a piece of bacon.
“Tampons,” I said bluntly.
His bacon was paused at his mouth, then he dropped it on his plate.
I gained way too much satisfaction watching the red creep up into his ch
eeks once it climbed above his beard. That sexy, sexy beast of a beard.
Wait, what? Damn hormones!
He picked his bacon up, cleared his throat, and while concentrating on the, apparently, very interesting bacon in his hand, he murmured, “What, didn’t you bring any?”
Hiding my smile of satisfaction behind the coffee cup at my lips, I said, “I did not bring enough.”
He nodded, shoving the entire piece of bacon into his mouth, then followed it up with two more pieces. God, he was such a guy.
So I continued, pointing at the fridge. “I find it hard to believe they supplied us with enough food and supplies for 10 days anyway, surely we’d have to go to the store eventually.”
His eyes lifted to mine. Those infuriating blues reminded me of the ocean in winter when it was cold, but the waters were still dark blue, as if they were waiting for the warmth again to lighten it up. The same storms that stirred the ocean when it was warm was what I saw brewing in Duke’s eyes. Nodding slowly, he said, “I don’t think what’s in there will last nine more days.”
Grinning in triumph, I said, “Great, what time do we leave to go into town?”
The town of Pembroke was small. So small, we had to go to the next town over just to find a Walmart. Satisfied that it would have what I needed, I told Duke he could wait out in the car, since he was clearly uncomfortable. He didn’t care for that too much and got red in the face again.
“I can’t protect you from the car. Not only that, Blondie, waiting in the car makes me a pussy.”
After pulling me from the car, he’d grabbed my hand and practically dragged me into the big store.
I went to pull away from his hand once we got inside, but he kept it held firm. He not only held it, he had his fingers interlaced with mine, like couples do. I looked down at it, then up into his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“We’re just a normal couple, strolling through fucking Walmart. Just be quiet and roll with it. This is the best way I can protect you.”
We had just gotten inside the store and had stopped to grab a shopping basket. I rolled my eyes at him. “As if anyone will find us here.”
He looked stormy again. Grabbing my face between his fingers, he said, “Do not ever underestimate anyone who wants to kill you. I did my best to make sure nobody followed us but if someone is determined enough, or is getting paid enough, they can track down anyone they want. Do not question my motives or why I do what I do.”
He let go of my face and looked away, his eyes scanning the store.
I swallowed hard and nodded, getting strangely aroused by what he had just done and said. This guy was a complete jerk. An alpha male who seemed to want to be in control and thought he could boss me around. So why was I so suddenly turned on? Infuriated with myself, I turned my face away from his and, with his hand still interlaced with mine, led him to the area of the store I knew I’d find what I was looking for.
I’d do anything to buy some extra time to not have to go back to that house so soon. There was nothing to do but watch TV and read, and being that there was no cable, books had become my best friend. Which reminded me, I had to pick up some more paperbacks.
Duke pulling his hand away from mine bolted me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him in question.
“Imma go get some soap and shit,” he said, pointing to the next aisle over. “Scream if you see anything strange.”
Scream?
“Uhh, okay,” I said.
I found what I’d been looking for and plucked the box from the shelf. I went in search of my Knight in Shining Anger.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck?” I heard him say.
My eyes got big. “What?”
He pointed. “What is anal bleach and why would you need it? I need some damn bleach for my eyes now. Never gonna be able to unsee that graphic on the box.”
I giggled and asked, “Do you really wanna know?”
“No.” Grasping my free hand, he led me to the shampoo aisle, found what he needed, and headed toward the grocery section.
“Wait. I need a couple more books. Can we get them before we get the food?”
He huffed, barely looking at me before scanning the store again with his eyes. “Woman, you brought like 10 books with you. You read them all already?”
“No, I brought 5. I have like 200 of them on my e-reader, but you wouldn’t let me bring that, so I need to get some good, old-fashioned books.”
“Fine.”
With his hand still intertwined with mine, which I was liking way too much, I led him toward the books.
He shifted uncomfortably as I looked through the selection, his eyes scanning the store, the crook of his elbow always firmly rested against the handgun he wore in a holster under his jacket. Even though deep in my mind I knew he was just doing his job, a part of me felt a little soft toward him. He was protecting me, potentially could give his life for me if he had to, and I don’t think anyone could be ungrateful for that.
Sneaking a sideways glance at him, I could see why he did what he did. He was pretty tall, I’d say over six feet. He had a rugged beard that normally I wouldn’t find attractive, but it was cut pretty close and not hanging down his face like some crumb-catching mess. He had strong, wild eyes that if you paid close enough attention, you would catch an occasional look of compassion and warmth. It was fleeting, but still, sometimes it was there. His body was hard and fit, and I bet I could bounce a quarter off his ass – if he’d let me.
I grinned at the visual.
He turned his head toward me and I quickly looked back at the books, plucking up the first one in front of me. I grabbed a few more, and satisfied I had enough books (about ten), I threw the last one into the basket.
“You good?” he asked, pointing at the shopping cart, pulling a can of chew from his back pocket. I watched as he grabbed a pinch and fingered it into his bottom lip. He replaced the cap and shoved it into his back pocket.
I suppressed the urge to make a face. “Yes, don’t you want to get anything?”
He pointed in the cart. “I already got some magazines.”
I looked down. I hadn’t even seen him get any. Guns & Ammo, Men’s Fitness, and of course, Maxim.
I simply nodded once, and then we went over to the grocery aisles, where I didn’t protest anything he bought. I did, however, toss a few chocolate bars and a bottle of wine into the cart.
He looked at me skeptically and took the wine out. “Absolutely not.”
I sighed. “Just one bottle, please?”
“No. Alcohol reduces inhibitions and delays reflexes and responses. We cannot afford any slip-ups.”
My lips twitched in amusement. “You read that in a textbook? Because you certainly haven’t ever had any alcohol, have you, Cowboy?”
I could tell my nickname annoyed him, but I would keep calling him that until he stopped calling me “Blondie.”
We headed toward the check-stand and as we reached it, he began loading our items on the belt. I saw him pick up a small packet from one of the items near the check-out, and held it up. To my mortification, it was a packet of “Midol.”
“For your bitchiness,” he growled, tossing it in the cart. Then he grabbed two more and threw them on the belt.
When he had to load my tampons, he picked up the box like it might bite him, and before I could get mad at his bitchiness comment, I was laughing at how ridiculous he was being.
“I can load the belt, if it upsets you that bad,” I said, goading him some more.
“I can handle it just fine,” he snapped.
“Oh, okay. Well it looked like you were having some trouble there, Cowboy.”
He stopped what he was doing, and looked at me square in the eye. A little bit of excitement fluttered in my stomach at the eye contact. Then he said, “Ya know, I’m glad you’re having your monthly whatever. I was wondering on the ride here if you were always this moody, but I’m glad to see it was just this.” He pointed to the tampon box.
I stomped a foot. “That’s rude!”
I saw him grin as if he’d bested me. That’s it. I’m gonna put salt in his coffee or something tomorrow.
As the male cashier, who looked no older than 20, was beeping the items over the scanner, I saw him shoot Duke a sympathetic glance and that annoyed me. They were both acting like I was some menstruating girlzilla on a rampage. I thought I’d been pretty reserved. Assholes, both of them.
I watched Duke take a wad of cash from his pocket and pay for the items. Obviously, neither of us could use our cards, and I was secretly happy the government was paying for my feminine products, my books, and my damn chocolate.
After walking to the car in silence, he loaded our things into the small trunk of the sports car, then darted his eyes around the parking lot, his hand hovering near his weapon.
It was mid-afternoon, and I watched him take the same highway back toward our old, ugly cabin. Deciding he already clearly disliked me, I figured I had nothing to lose when I asked, “Can’t we go somewhere else and not back to that place? It’s already wearing on me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” I whined, and instantly cringed at the sound of my own voice.
He huffed. “This isn’t a vacation, and that,” he said, jerking a thumb behind us, “was the last time we’ll be going into town.”
“I know it’s not a vacation.” I decided I’d try some charm. “You’re doing such a good job protecting me.” I laid it on thick now, placing my hand on his arm closest to me. “We could go somewhere like a park or somewhere public, where I can get some sunshine. Couldn’t we? Can we at least go get some fast food? I have cash, I can pay for it.”
He looked down at my pale hand on his tanned arm, and then looked at me briefly before putting his eyes back on the road. In the fleeting couple of seconds he looked at me, I could see that warmth I liked. I thought he’d be angry, but he wasn’t. He did, however, use that same arm to grab his mirrored sunglasses from the visor of the car, slamming them on his face with more force than necessary. With a Styrofoam cup still in the cup holder, he spat a stream into it, and kept his eyes on the road.