by Lucy Lambert
When I turned the key in the ignition, the engine fired right up.
I gave it a bit too much gas and we peeled away from the curb in a smelly cloud of burnt rubber.
“Hey, slow down, or our next mission will be picking up your underwear and socks from the road,” Dash said.
“What? Oh,” I replied, glancing in the rear view mirror. A few pieces of my clothes, including, embarrassingly enough, a few pairs of cotton panties, flapped dangerously on top of the basket, the wind threatening to yank them out and let them lie on the dusty, dirty road.
So I let off the gas and the flapping stopped.
He’s seen my underwear now, I thought. My cheeks started pulsing, wanting to blush. They couldn’t, though. I still couldn’t stop smiling, and while my cheeks ached from the effort of it, it also kept the color out of them. A mixed blessing.
And Dash was smiling, too.
Once I caught sight of it, I couldn’t help glancing. He really was a handsome man, and he had this incredible, infectious smile that showed off a set of perfect teeth. There were dimples, too. The kind that added just a touch of boyishness to an otherwise masculine set of features.
My heart and stomach started flipping around inside of me.
If he ever looked like that boy I thought I might know from the park—and… more? I wasn’t sure — it was when he smiled like that.
I suppose that it also didn’t hurt that he was a bit winded from all the excitement. His chest and shoulders swelled and filled out his shirt with each breath. And the flush of color in his face.
I don’t know, he just seemed so alive.
“What?” he asked, catching me watching him.
A blade of sensation ran up my chest. I’ve been caught! I wanted to laugh again. Instead, I tried to force the corners of my mouth down and put my eyes back on the road.
My fingers found the familiar grooves in the Ranger’s steering wheel. Finger grooves worn thin first by my dad’s hands, and then mine.
“It’s nothing. You have a nice smile,” I said.
And with that, the spell broke. He realized that he was, in fact, smiling. His lips dropped to a neutral position and he leaned back against the seat. He turned away from me and made like he was counting the cracks in the sidewalk while we drove past.
“It’s okay, you know. To smile, I mean,” I said, feeling like I needed to say something.
“I haven’t really been what you would call happy or anything close to it since I left,” he replied.
My fingers tightened around the wheel. There was a similar tightness in my throat. “And where did you run from?”
I realized right away that those perhaps weren’t the best word choices. He said he left but I went with ran. We both knew I was right. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flinch.
I couldn’t really help it. Words often just came out of my mouth without a second thought. I always heard people—usually televangelists and politicians and the like—go over that old saw of the truth setting you free.
In my experience, the truth usually got me into trouble.
Right about then, I wished that the filter everyone else had and used in their heads worked for me.
Still, despite all that, my stomach tightened a little and my hands gripped the steering wheel a little harder. Will he actually tell me something? I could place him, of course. The boy from the park.
But it just felt like there was so much more than that. Memories from those days were hazy things.
“Back east,” he said.
“East’s a big place,” I replied. I turned down Pine Street. I glanced in the mirrors, but no one was following. I didn’t know whether that was a good sign or bad. My body couldn’t decide, either.
As her ex, as well as the small size of the town, he must have known where she lived. However, he didn’t strike me as the subtle type, and I tended to trust my instincts when it came to character judgments.
No, if Bobby intended on following us, he’d have made it obvious.
A mess of tingles and anxiety tangled and writhed along the front of my stomach and up and down my spine. Like I was waiting for my prom date to show up or something.
“Yeah, it is,” he replied pointedly.
“Care to narrow it down a little?” I asked. I took a right down Spruce Drive. I don’t think there was a single spruce tree anywhere nearby. Just like there weren’t any poplars anywhere near my house.
It was funny how random thoughts like that break into your mind. I saw Dash glance at the reflective green street name signs and wondered if he thought the same thing.
He breathed in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and chest expanding to fill out his cotton button-down. “North east. That’s about as specific as I want to get,” he said on the exhalation. “How about you? Ever get out of this place for a while? See something of the world?”
My fingers tightened around the wheel again. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him asking me questions. Ever since he got here he seemed like he was a Just the facts, ma’am type of guy.
“No, not really. I know, that sounds really bad. What kind of person stays in their hometown when they grow up these days?” I made myself smile a little. Tried making it sound like a joke. “I thought I wanted all that, once. Travel, seeing the world, a big career. But things happen, you know?”
He glanced at me, and then back at the road. “I know.”
I could tell that we both itched to say something, anything, on the last few minutes back.
Or was that just me? Was I projecting?
He could be sitting there, wanting a quiet ride back. It had just been so long since I’d felt anything like this towards a man.
I suppose the last one was Bobby, but it had been since high school when I’d just wanted to be near him, hear him talk, that sort of thing.
Sometimes silence begs to be filled, like an empty, aching stomach. That was one of those moments for me.
“There’s a police car in your driveway,” Dash said.
“What? Oh, hell!” I said. I’d been so focused on my own thoughts that I didn’t see the black trunk of the big old Crown Vic poking out over the sidewalk.
I stopped short, pulling up to the curb.
“Do you think he saw us?” Dash said.
I sat there, waiting, fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel. The vinyl covering was uncomfortably warm in my grip, but I didn’t let up.
“No. Around here, they’d just come up to the car if they saw. And that’s the sheriff. Bobby’s dad.”
Dash grinned a hard, humorless grin. “You think Bobby tattled to daddy about us?”
He waited in silence for a few moments before adding, “So, I take it this is bad?”
My immediate reaction was, Yes, this is bad! What if he’s mad and decides to throw us both in the drunk tank until he decides what to do with us?
Burbly panic started low in my stomach. It threatened to crawl up around my heart and out my throat.
I swallowed it down. This was just starting to get interesting with Dash. And besides, we’d also just managed to get all my clothes back. All that effort wasn’t going to be for nothing.
Then an idea occurred to me, just as one also occurred to him.
“Wait here,” he said. He reached for the door handle.
I knew I needed to stop him, that the sheriff would not take kindly to seeing the man who’d knocked his son to the pavement.
So I reached over and grabbed his hand.
As if by instinct, his fingers tightened around mine. A thrum of energy shot between us so sudden and startling that we couldn't help but lock eyes.
Then his eyes flicked down to my lips and back up again.
He just thought about kissing me!
Then I thought about kissing him and everything just went straight down the rabbit hole.
“Dash…” I said.
I could feel the desire bouncing off the insides of the Ranger’s cab, amplifying a
nd intensifying. The air almost crackled with it.
His fingers tightened even more around mine, almost to the point of pain. He held me too hard to escape, but I didn’t want to escape. I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my mouth.
Like two magnets, unable to help our natures, we drifted closer to each other until all I could see was his face filling my vision.
He smelled a little of the leather of his riding suit. And something else. Some mild cologne or aftershave that invited me to lean in closer, to inhale more deeply.
I wondered how his lips tasted.
His other hand reached up and touched my cheek, his palm hot against my skin. His eyes flicked down to my lips and then back up again.
This is crazy! You haven’t even known him a day! I thought. What followed almost instantly was: That’s wrong. You’ve known him a lot longer than that. You both know that, too.
But all those memories were still locked away. Well, most of them anyway.
My eyes started closing, my whole body tingling in anticipation.
His face came closer. So close now. So close that even with my eyes closed I could feel his nearness. The sensation of it tickled and tingled along my skin.
Sometimes the best feeling of all is suspense, anticipation unfulfilled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said, and pulled back.
When he pulled back, it was like he peeled some portion of me out, too. I snatched my hand back and put them both back around the wheel.
“Right,” I said.
“Now, I’m going to go deal with this sheriff,” Dash said. He once more reached for the door handle.
“And I seem to remember telling you to stay here. And keep your head down.”
I pre-empted him, swinging my door open and stepping out. Then I slammed it shut hard enough to rock the truck on its squeaky suspension.
The noise attracted the attention of the sheriff, who leaned back and squinted over in our direction.
I forced Dash’s hand. He shot me a look while he leaned over to hide himself behind the dash.
“Ellie? I didn’t see your truck, but figured I might try the door anyway,” Robert Sr., the sheriff, said while he stepped down from my stoop.
Act natural, I thought.
I swallowed heavily. When I got to the foot of my driveway I put my hands on my hips and looked up at him.
Do I usually put my hands on my hips? My fingernails pressed into my palms. The problem with acting naturally, you see, is that it’s still acting. And I’d been passed over for the role of the candelabra back in my sixth grade production of Beauty and the Beast.
“And for what reason are you trying my door?” I said. Momentary pride exploded in my chest when I heard the real indignation in my voice.
I could also practically hear Dash wondering What is she doing? She needs to get him to leave!
I did need to get him to leave, but I also didn’t want him suspecting anything. And if I wasn’t my usual combative self, he definitely would.
He turned to face me fully and mirrored me, putting his hands on his hips. It called attention to the handle of the big revolver slung on his belt.
“I think we both know why I’m here, Ellie.”
I gave my hair a little, hopefully flippant, toss, “I don’t, so why don’t you educate me?”
A single bead of sweat started at the nape of my neck. It tickled its way down beneath my collar. It took every bit of willpower in my possession to not wipe at it, to not shiver.
Robert Sr. walked down my steps, a small smile on his thin lips. For once I wished he had on his big reflective aviator glasses so that I didn’t have to look him in the eye.
“As Bobby tells it, he was just trying to have a talk with you downtown when some vagrant on a motorcycle came up and cold cocked him and his buddies. Says maybe you put this guy up to it. Ellie, you know I only want what’s best for you and my boy.”
I smiled a smile that had nothing to do with happiness and shook my head. Of course Bobby told it that way.
“And we both know what Bobby’s full of,” I replied.
Robert Sr. watched me for an uncomfortably silent pause. He tilted his head to the side a little, like a hawk considering a field mouse. His smile disappeared.
“This biker friend of yours isn’t around now, is he? I’m thinking the two of us should have some words,” the sheriff said.
I shrugged. Not an easy thing to do when every muscle in your body clenched up with nerves. “You see a bike here?”
“No,” he said. That single syllable said a lot more, though. It also said, Just because it’s not sat on your driveway doesn’t mean it isn’t here, and we both know it.
“So then maybe you can get your cruiser off my property so I can park my truck and get in to make supper?”
My shirt stuck to the small of my back. Every piece of me was so rigid I knew that if he didn’t leave soon something was going to snap from the tension.
“I’m going to have to sit the two of you down sometime, hash all this out.”
“So long as that’s not today. Do you mind?”
He started for his cruiser, walking down along the side of the house. The same path Dash and I took to roll his bike onto the back patio.
Panic stabbed a cold blade between my shoulders. Had we parked the bike back far enough? Suppose Robert Sr. saw the glint of chrome, or the back of a tire?
But he reached for the door handle on his Crown Vic cruiser. He looked over his shoulder at me.
Originally, he probably meant to say goodbye. Let me know we’d be in touch, something like that. Except when he looked at me he must have gotten some sense of my panic, my sheer desire to get him to leave. His hand fell from the handle. Instead, it came up and rested on the butt of his revolver.
“You sure you’re here alone?”
“Pretty sure. Unless you’re counting ghosts. They linger sometimes.”
“Maybe I should just take a quick look around. What do you think of that?” he asked.
My mouth and throat went dry, all the moisture sapped away like hot Arizona desert beneath the midday sun.
I forced another shrug. “I didn't know you thought a woman could do much thinking.”
I knew my only hope would be to get him good and riled up, distract him from his scouting mission. For once maybe my mouth will get me out of trouble instead of into it.
“You know, Bobby would take care of that mouth of yours if you’d let him.”
“I know. Guess it’s a good thing for me I’m never going to give him another chance. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Robert Sr. walked up to me, so close I could smell the oil he used on his leather gun belt and patrol boots.
“Be careful, Ellie. You’ve pushed things too far. I’m not going to protect you forever.”
This time the indignation was real. “Get off my property. And stay off unless you have a warrant. And tell Bobby to stay the hell away from me.”
Robert Sr. reached up as though to touch my cheek. I pulled back and he curled his hand into a fist before letting it drop down. “Have a nice day, Ellie.”
I said nothing. Instead I crossed my arms and stood off to the side on my lawn. I watched him back his cruiser up and drive down the street. He went good and slow, as though to spite me.
Chapter 11
DASH
I listened to them from the cab of the truck. I would have been out of luck if it had been a newer vehicle, but it was still old enough for crank windows.
I lowered the passenger window a touch. A cool breeze slipped in through the crack. It carried with it the scent of someone’s fresh cut lawn.
The more I listened, the more infuriated I became. It boiled in my stomach. I burned inside with it.
I can’t sit here any longer, I thought when I heard him tell him that he couldn’t protect her much longer.
I sat up, ready to open the door with a slam of my shoulder and then do what it took to put this nepotisti
c excuse for a sheriff in his place.
But when I did, I saw him backing out of the driveway. He leaned back to check the opposite direction for traffic. When he turned my way I dropped back below the level of the dash, my heart a jackhammer.
I counted off twenty seconds in my head. It felt like an hour. Then I sat back up. The sheriff’s cruiser was gone and Ellie walked toward me. She looked some mix of terrified and elated.
Whatever it was it really brought life and light to her face.
I stepped out of the Ranger, grateful for the outside air on my skin. Just spending those few minutes in that small cab had stifled me. I’d grown so used to riding on my motorcycle, never without the feeling of fresh air rushing all around me.
She shook her head and a lock of her hair fell across her forehead. I fixed on that and then resisted the powerful impulse to brush it off. To brush it off, and then leave my hand on her cheek.
“Gone?” I asked.
She shrugged. She didn’t like to commit to anything, I noticed. “For now. I suppose you’ll be wanting to get that bike back on the road? We got my clothes back, so I guess there’s nothing keeping you here anymore.”
She finished unable to meet my eyes, so she crossed her arms and dug the toe of her shoe into a crack in the sidewalk.
“I suppose there isn't,” I said. I heard the words, but didn’t believe them. It would save me a lot of trouble to just mount the bike and leave Pleasant in the dust.
But this place was different from every other place I’d remembered living with my mother. The pull of memory was strong, if not clear.
And Pleasant also had Ellie.
“But maybe some of that supper first,” I said.
“What?” she asked, her confusion overpowering whatever it was that kept her focused on the ground.
“You told Sheriff Billy-Bob you needed to start supper. Even vagabonds need to eat, you know. So can you help me out one more time? I’ll let you keep that shirt of mine in exchange. Seems to bring you good luck.”
“I think you and I have different definitions of good luck,” she said, her eyes flashing with that spirit that first drew me to her.
“I suppose. You can keep that shirt though; doesn’t fit. I don’t need things in my life that don’t fit anywhere.”