by TC Matson
I could kiss Scarlett.
Kyce leans over and whispers. “Do you feel set up?”
“Yeah. But this isn’t something Scarlett would do.”
“How have you been?”
I keep my view on my hands in my lap. “Great,” I lie. “You?”
“Been better. I’ve tried calling you.”
“I know. I haven’t wanted to talk to you.”
“I wish you would,” he murmurs.
A tightness strangles my throat. I’ve picked my phone up a million times to call you but I refuse to tell him that.
“I’ve missed you,” he says and I snap my head to him.
“Stop.” Anger and hurt ride in my tone.
He nods with his panty-melting smirk.
“Kyce has told me you work for Twisted Motor Sports. Is it difficult to be a woman in a male environment, or are you the one who keeps everyone in line?” Audrey asks.
A polite smile rests on my lips. “I own a pretty intimidating whip I snap every once in a while.”
She titters. “Most men need that. I’ve been married for forty-three years and I still have to snap mine sometimes. Although not so much anymore. What do you do there?”
My answer is paused as the waitress sets our food down, of course Kyce with the largest plate of pasta.
I should’ve ordered an entire bottle of wine to help through this meal.
“I run the office,” I finally answer. “My brother hired me about two years ago. He needed help and I was available.”
She nods. “Kyce works for his brother too. Jackson.” Motherly pride swells in her tone. “Kyce would be a bull in a china shop if he was stuck in an office setting. He put his knowledge and his muscles to use and works security. He keeps everyone safe.”
Amused, Kyce eats quietly, watching her and me talk about his favorite subject—him.
“Yeah. He’s told me about it a time or two,” I say.
“Ever been there?”
“No. I’ve never set foot in a casino. Luck and I don’t get along very well,” I tell her.
She hums. “You should get Kyce to take you and show you around. I bet you two would have fun.”
“I’m sure we would,” Kyce beams to me, his words mischievous, and I know exactly what he’s implying.
Sex.
“Maybe one day,” I offer and shove a bite of penne noodles into my mouth.
“I hope so.” Kyce’s piercing blues hold me hostage. The intensity in his words catches me off guard and my traitorous body immediately reacts. I shift, trying to release the tension between my thighs, and he chuckles under his breath.
All this is too much. My mind is racing. My heart has resided in my throat since getting here, and my skin is crawling. I wipe my mouth, place my napkin beside my plate, and take a breath.
“It’s really nice to meet you Audrey. But I have to get going. I have somewhere to be in thirty minutes.” It’s not a lie…well, not completely. I need to get home and away from this situation.
“Oh! I wish you could stay. You’re so pleasant.”
I smile. “Thank you.” I trap Scarlett with a sly grin. “Your turn to pay.” My eyes narrow. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
Kyce gets to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m fine,” I grit.
“I know, but I’m still walking you out.”
I tell Audrey goodbye one last time before heading to the exit with the man who is fucking up my senses following me. I don’t even give him the chance to open the door as I shove out of it.
“Job’s done. Thanks.”
He grabs my arm, twisting me around. “Wait.” He takes a step closer, his body mere inches from mine. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and I all but lose my breath. I’ve got to get away from him.
“I’ve really missed you,” he says. “Come to my house Thursday.”
I rock back on my heel. “You have a one-track mind. How can you think of sex with your mom just inside?”
He licks his lips and thoughts of his tongue on my skin flash behind my lids. I inhale, shaking the memories.
“I wish you’d just talk to me. I wish I could get into your mind and help you figure out what’s wrong, but you’re not letting me. I want to make a deal with you. Come to my house Thursday. If you don’t have a good time, you can tell me to fuck off and I’ll never speak to you again. I’ll back off. But if you do, we talk.”
The thought is heartbreaking, but my anger overrides it. “And what will we be doing?”
I want to kiss his smirk. “You’ll be with me. That’s all that matters.”
I look away, watching the people across the street stride down the sidewalk. “And what if I don’t want to?”
“Quit being stubborn, Jolie. I see it in your eyes. I read it on your face. You want to. Stop fighting it and just come to me on Thursday.”
“I’ll think about it.” God, I’m being a bitch.
“Seven. My house.”
I nod. “We’ll see.”
I walk away, each step heavy. I’m only a booty call to him. That’s all I’ll ever be. I know I shouldn’t expect anything else. He made it clear from the get-go, but I’m pissed. Not at him. At myself. For allowing my heart to untangle and want more. With him. Someone who doesn’t want it.
I hate myself for causing my own heartache.
Chapter 20
Ask me why I’m showing up at Kyce’s and I’ll tell you I have no damn idea. Because I don’t. I’m playing with my own heart instead of ripping the damn Band-Aid off and getting the pain over with. But truth be told, I don’t want him out of my life. And as screwed up as this sounds, I’ve been pleading with myself to try and find a balance to keep him around…just to have him here.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants before getting out of my car to head to his door. Suddenly, his front door swings open and he comes bounding out, wearing a panty-melting smile.
He drops a kiss to my cheek and clutches my hand, guiding me to his Tahoe.
“What are we doing?” I ask, getting in.
“Something fun.” He winks, shutting the door.
“What’s something fun?” I ask as he climbs in and cranks the engine.
The grin he lays on me causes my soul to swoon…and my nerves to kick into high gear. “Fair’s in town. I promised you fun. Let’s go have some.”
I laugh. “I haven’t been to a fair since I was a kid.”
“I think it was high school with my brothers for me.”
I had forgotten how the sounds and smells of the fair makes me feel giddy and excited. Lights twinkling and blinking, spiraling and lighting up the night sky, bring back childhood memories. Distorted music bombards me from every direction and thoughts of laughing with my friends fire back at me. Distant screams of elation mixed with adrenaline cause me to smile. The knee-buckling aroma of freshly cooked funnel cakes causes a slight foodgasm.
I’m smiling as I take in how everything looks so different while strolling down memory lane with Kyce walking beside me in the grass-invaded gravel path. I’m a kid all over again.
“First up has to be the bumper cars,” Kyce nudges my shoulder.
“You’re too big for them. Your feet will dangle over the sides,” I snort.
The dancing lights around us illuminate the gleam in his blues. “Chicken shit.”
Surprisingly, the line isn’t too long and our wait is short. We don’t share a car and I’m cracking up watching him squeeze into one…without his legs hanging out. I can’t catch my breath from laughing as I ram everyone around me while being slammed into. My view lands on Kyce and instantly I’m hypnotized.
His smile is wide, his laugh loud with determination donning in his expression. He slams into people, weaving around and finding ways to get back to me. My chest tightens and swells at the same time…until I’m jolted out of the trance by a little girl slamming into me with high-pitched giggles.
After the bumper cars, we zigzag th
rough the rides, making our way to the zero gravity ride and then to the swings—where Kyce scares the shit out of me by pushing my swing forward and grabbing the side of it so I stay alongside him—and then we brave a ride that flips us so much, I swear we flip ten years into our future. It threatens the contents of my stomach, and I can’t tell if it’s from all the rotations or laughing at Kyce cracking up.
We decide to take a break from all the rides to give our bodies some time to recoup and make our way into the hells of rigged gaming. We pause to watch kids throwing darts to pop balloons for a prize, adults trying their hardest to knock over old-fashioned milk jugs that are clearly fixed to not fall easily, and a group of teenage boys trying their hand at basketball.
“Aren’t you a big one,” one of the workers yells out as we pass. “Or are those muscles fake? Show her how strong you really are and win her something. That will impress her.” The white-haired man tips the end of the mallet toward Kyce. “Unless you’re the looks and she’s the brawn? Should she be the one to win you something?” he goads more.
Kyce looks at the winner’s items and then tips his chin. “Which one do you want?”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’m too old for stuffed animals.”
He scans again before his lips quirk up. “Guess I’ll be picking one out then.”
Kyce pays, grabs the mallet, and swings it over his head, hitting the machine. Red and orange lights climb up the meter before a loud bell sounds off. I’m smiling ear to ear when Kyce turns to me and winks.
He points to the stuffed animal and saunters back to me with his ego too big for his body and a macho smirk.
“He knew you couldn’t resist being provoked.” I snort. “It’s the macho man vibe you give off.”
He chuckles and places a kiss to my cheek. “I don’t have to prove shit to him.” He hands me a teal hippo holding a heart but doesn’t allow me to say anything as he walks away. I stare at the heart, frozen for a moment, lost in thought.
Does he know my heart has deviated off track? There’s no way. I don’t show him. Hell, I barely show myself. Maybe he’s picked up that my anger toward him is actually for myself? Oh god. What if he’s realized I’ve fallen for—
“What’s next?” he interrupts the stormy thoughts and I blink up to him.
“I…”
This. This is why I hate having feelings. I’m discombobulated. My mind is a wreck and my thoughts are all over the damn place.
“Didn’t we see a man carving statues out of logs when we came in?” I’m such a damn idiot.
We fall into step beside each other walking through the throngs of people. The crunch of the gravel under our shoes echoes through my body. I’m hyperaware of everything. I’m on high alert from my own body. So when he slips his hand over mine and laces our fingers together, I nearly jump out of my skin.
I glance to it. My hand looks small in his but fits perfectly. It’s comforting, like I’m protected, and surprisingly it feels intimate. I’m too chicken shit to look up to him. And I like how it feels too much to pull away.
As we watch the man carve a horse head from a log, we stand hand in hand. My mind is scrambling, too focused on how great a simple gesture of him holding my hand feels to fully pay attention to the chainsaw working its magic.
He doesn’t let go as he leads me toward the exit where all the food is and stops in front of a cart with funnel cakes. Whatever the hell is happening between our hands being interlocked is growing in my chest and it’s scaring the ever-living shit out of me.
In one hand he carries the funnel cake. In the other he continues to hold my hand until he pulls open his truck door and helps me in.
I’m quiet as we drive, the air between us shifting into a place that’s confusing. Forcing myself to break up my thoughts, I nibble on the funnel cake.
“Want a bite?” I ask and he shakes his head.
“Are you saying you can deny the powers it holds? Are you human?” I joke because who the hell can say no to a funnel cake?
His eyes slide to me, a sparkle in them. Before he can say a word, I pinch off a piece and shove it into his lips. “Don’t deny it. Eat it!” I cackle.
He reaches over, snagging part of the funnel cake, and crams it into my cheek. Powdered sugar explodes into the air riding along our laughter as we have a bona fide food fight. Yes, while he’s driving.
He yanks his truck into his driveway, slams it into park, and then grabs the box from my hands, picking up a small piece and shoving it between my lips. I can barely breathe from laughing when he leans over, eyes intense, and steals my breath.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says in a deep whisper.
I sigh as he kisses the sugar off my face. God, how I’ve missed his touch. Threading my fingers through his hair, I drop my head to the side to give him access to my neck. I’m ignited.
Suddenly, he stops, dropping his forehead to mine. “I had a really good time tonight.”
I blink. Wait. Is it over?
“I want to take you inside and ravish your body, but not tonight.”
His words scramble my brain as comprehension of what tonight was hits me. “You tricked me into a date?”
The right side of his lips tic. “I did. And I’m going to do it again tomorrow,” he whispers back.
My stomach dips. I haven’t been on a date in…since Chris. “What if I say no?”
His eyes dart between mine. “You won’t.”
He leaves me perplexed as he gets out of the truck. I’ve been duped into a date, a wonderful and incredible date that I enjoyed. I’m stuck in thought when he opens the truck door, cups my face and slams a hard kiss on me. We moan in unison as I wrap my legs around his waist and he rocks into me. He’s hard. And I’m certain I’m soaked.
Elation floods my veins when he grabs my ass and lifts me out. But instead of carrying me into his house, placing me where ever he wants me, and fucking me into oblivion, he drops my back on my car and flexes his hips.
“You’ll come back for the rest of that tomorrow.” His breath is strained.
“You’re pretty sly.” I narrow my eyes. “What if I don’t come back?”
He rocks forward again, his hard dick causing friction across my clit. I gasp, my eyes rolling slightly. His chuckle is so damn sexy. “You will.”
I force my feet to find the concrete and straighten myself even though I more lost at sea than steady on land.
He hands me the hippo. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Good night, Jolie.”
He kisses me again, this time fervently, before leaving me to stand on my own with lips on fire.
Chapter 21
I lost sleep trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing tonight. I’m a fucking bag of nerves tied off with exhilaration. My plan—toss out all my chips and see where they fall. This could end everything and be an awkward ride home, or this could be a beginning. I’ve never been a gambling man, but I’m placing all my chips on her coming home with me tonight.
Ryker once told me he used to sit in the field at the end of the airport runaway and just be. He said it helped him clear his mind and that in and of itself gave him the confidence to overcome whatever challenges he was facing. The closest airport is an hour away and I don’t have that type of time. Plus, if this goes south, that’s a long fucking ride home.
But I do have a friend who has a shit-ton of land and said I can use it tonight. Add a blanket, some food, a battery-powered candle, and a clear night sky and I have a bombass romantic evening.
Just as Ryker predicted, my skin is crawling. I feel out of sorts and unsure of myself, but I have to do this.
I pick Jolie up and immediately my nerves are on a different level. I think she can sense it too, but I try keeping the conversation going since I know she hates the quiet. We talk about nothing, and about everything. She apologizes for not helping me clean up the remnants of our food fight and then laughs when she tells me she found some dough in her hair.
I really fucking hope this isn’t the last time I’ll see her.
She’s looking out the window as I continue to drive deeper into the country streets, and when I pull onto the dirt driveway where I was instructed to go, her brows draw together.
“This feels like a plot from a horror movie,” she says. “Guy takes girl deep into a field and murders her. Her family reports her missing and she’s found months later by a hunter.”
I bark a laugh. “Sick twisted mind.”
“It’s happened.”
“Do I seem like a psychopath?” I ask turning off the gravel road and into the field.
“Ted Bundy was reported to be handsome and charismatic. Women felt he was trust-worthy and that’s why they went with him.”
“I thought he faked injuries or some shit like that.”
“The kind charm in his voice tricked people. He hid evil well.”
The moonlight flickering off the pond comes into sight and I park. “Trust me.”
Opening the back, I grab the blanket and fan it out before grabbing the cooler—I wasn’t down for a stupid basket—and then I turn on the candle, placing it in the middle.
“What is this, Kyce?”
I lift a shoulder. “Better than a restaurant.” I pull out the food from the cooler, the plates, and plastic flatware. I open two beers and hand her one. “I have a confession. I have no damn idea what I made, but it’s good. I tasted it before I packed it up.”
She’s off, which makes me off-kilter as we eat. I’m not hungry at all, but I force myself to eat a little. We make small talk while we eat, but it’s forced. I feel it. She feels it too. Any man who does this romance stuff daily has nerves of steel because I’m a fucking disaster right now.
After eating, I crack open another beer and sit beside her. Silently, we watch the moonlight ripple across the dark pond with sounds of crickets in the distance and a few frogs adding to the mix.
I take a breath. Here goes everything.