by Lindsey Hart
He turned and winked at her. And her heart stopped beating. Actually, stopped and restarted a second later, slamming painfully in her chest. Colette nearly hiccupped with the motion but managed to swallow the strange air bubble blocking her throat back down.
“You never know. Maybe in a past life… or in this one. Maybe I just unzip my skin when I get home and I’m really a ninety-year-old lady underneath this façade.”
“That would be a hell of a hair and makeup job. I don’t think even the amount of money you have could buy that.”
“Don’t put it past me. There are some talented people out there.”
“That would take hours. Every single day? I’m not buying it.”
Blaze chuckled again, the sound filling up the car. Filling up her chest. Filling up… filling up all the empty spots in her heart that she didn’t even really know existed before she heard that deep, low laugh.
“Alright, you got me. I’m not really an old lady. I did book us a tea date after the quad tour, though. Just for you, at a tea house nearby.”
Colette blinked. Blaze turned to her and blinked back. His face was so serious, that for a second she believed him, until his sinful grin gave way. She shook her head and grudgingly let herself laugh.
“So, quads?”
“Yeah. Quads.”
“Why? Do you like riding? Do you come out to the middle of nowhere quite often and try and kill yourself with dangerous machinery?”
“If I did, I’d rather try a tractor pull. I’ve always wanted to do one of those.”
“What on earth is that?”
“A tractor pull? Oh, Office Baby, I have so much to show you.”
Colette pressed her legs together to still the strange sensation creeping up her thighs. Her tightly clamped legs did little to quell the ache building in all the wrong places. She didn’t want Blaze to show her anything. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. She’d got herself ready that morning, donned a tight zip up that was wind and rain proof, a pair of jeans, and her canvas runners. She had her instructions from Blaze. Wear something comfortable. Something she could ride in. Something she didn’t mind getting dirty and something that was wind-proof. She’d swept her hair into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck to keep it out of her face for later.
All the while she told herself that she just wanted to get through the date. A date which wasn’t a real date. And then it would be over. Her moment of weakness and terrible stupidity would be over. That contract would be ripped up and Blaze would leave her alone.
She could go back to pretending he didn’t exist.
He could go back to screwing everything that was female and breathed.
And no, no that wouldn’t hurt one single bit. Not. One. Single. Bit. And yes. Yes, she was suddenly okay with dying a virgin. The trouble was, she’d always been the world’s worst liar.
CHAPTER 11
Blaze
Despite his prowess at piloting a plane, Blaze had never actually driven a quad.
A fact that became glaringly obvious after five minutes. The trail was rough and bumpy and kept tea-bagging him in the ugliest of ways, not to mention that he rode behind their private instructor and Colette, bringing up the rear. He’d paid extra to have their own private tour along the desert trails, past old gold mines, cactuses, and rolling red dirt hills. It was quite pretty, if the sand in the eyes, the grit between his teeth, and the sore nuts didn’t count.
They were just passing a narrow section of trail, flying along, when the dust from the first two quads went down his throat, choking him. His eyes were already gritty, dust grinding in behind the sunglasses he had on, when a vicious wind whipped up, and combined with the dust from the other quads, blinded him. It was shitty timing, given that as he was blinded, the quad’s rear tire hit a rock sticking out of the trail and bucked up, sacking him viciously. He let out a yelp and gripped the handlebars, his thumb hammering down on the throttle. The quad took off, bucking and twisting beneath him like a wild horse. The back kicked out and skidded and he leaned to the wrong side.
If he’d been a light man, it might have been alright. He could have just corrected and got on with it. As it was, the quad went roaring one way and he went flying the other. One second he was riding, the next the dirt was rising up to meet him.
Blaze hit hard. His first instinct was to tuck and roll, thanks to years of sports training. He’d played football in high school. Still. He’d never hit the ground so hard. He’d been overconfident in wearing a t-shirt, and the rocks bit into his skin as he skidded hard along the ground. He had a helmet on, so at least, his head was protected.
It only took a few seconds for his body to come to a stop, but it felt like hours.
Blaze landed facing the sky. He blinked up at the sea of blue and the puffy white clouds overhead. It was all he could do, as tears streamed out of the corners of his abused eyes, trying to clear the dust. His head ached, even with the helmet on, and his lungs felt pulverized, like an angry herd of elephants had just trampled him. To top it all off, like the icing on the shit cake, his skin felt like it had been flayed off his back and arms.
“Blaze!”
Someone was calling his name through the ringing in his ears. It got louder, presumably as the one doing the screaming got closer.
He waited for a few minutes. The roar of the other quads died away and the muffled stomp clomp stamp of boots shuffling towards him filled up his ears. His hearing felt foggy with the helmet on.
“Blaze!”
When he blinked and opened his eyes again, Colette was leaning over him. Her face was a mess of worry and horror and he managed to pass a grin on his face, even though it hurt like a bitch.
“That bad, huh? Geez. If I’d known that nearly dying was all it would take to get you this close, I would have given it a try years ago.”
She blinked at him, obviously too distraught to realize his slip up. He ground his teeth, disgusted at the grit between them. It felt like he’d just consumed half the desert floor.
“Are you hurt? Don’t try and move,” Colette instructed. She chewed her lower lip while their instructor, a grizzled sixty-odd year-old man who looked like he’d been picked by the sun’s harsh rays, dipped into view.
“Anything broken, son? Or did you just manage to wind yourself?” The instructor, John, turned to the side and spat a stream of brown tobacco spittle into the sand.
Blaze did a mental once over on his body. He wiggled his fingers and his toes. Moved his legs and flexed his arms. Everything seemed to be accounted for and in working order.
“Nothing broken. At least not that I can feel. Not too sure about my internal organs.”
“Oh god. Oh my god.” Colette started chewing on her lip so hard it was a miracle she didn’t eat it right off her face.
John grinned back down. He reached into his back pocket and packed a little more tobacco into his mouth.
“Never seen anyone take a spill like that. Usually, we have bigger groups and that slows us down. Always a first for everything, I suppose.”
“Jesus. The quad okay?” He had to ask because his pride was taking a serious beating.
Of all the people to dump a bike, he had to be the one. He was just glad that the guy didn’t know who he really was. Since no ID was required, he’d booked under a different name and used a company credit card that didn’t have his name on it either.
“The quad’s fine. You ejected and it didn’t turn over. We can keep riding if you want.”
Blaze swiveled his gaze to Colette’s face. She looked worried. Upset. Her forehead was creased into a nasty frown and her eyes were luminous and swimming with tears. Her nostrils flared with each rapid breath she took. It was funny, looking at her with her helmet on. All he could see was her nose, eyes and lips, but that was enough.
“You up for more riding, Colette?” he asked as he started to pick himself off the ground, one bone at a time.
He felt fine, other than the bleeding g
ashes all over his arms, packed with rocks and grit. At least he hadn’t landed on one of the giant cactuses edging the trail. Life hadn’t exactly taught him to look for the silver lining in shit, but this was one of those times…
“Oh my god! Your arms!” Colette gasped. She forgot all about hating him and edged forward. Her cool palms landed on his upper arm, right below a particularly nasty gash. “Oh god. Oh shit. I- ugh. I’m not good with blood.” Colette’s chest heaved double time and as much as he liked her hands on his arms, he didn’t want her to pass out again or worse, puke all over him. And probably herself, with that helmet on.
“I’m good,” he assured her. “If you want to keep riding, we can keep riding. If not- maybe John here has a first aid kit. I can get this washed up, stick a few bandages on it and I’ll be fine. Then we can see about finding that tea room.”
John cleared his throat, his version of not laughing in Blaze’s face. Yeah, he’d pretty much handed over his man-card big time by spilling off his bike and talking about tea, but hell, seeing the slow smile blossoming over Colette’s sweet bow lips was worth it a thousand times over.
“You can’t ride like that! You’re bleeding all over! You need more than just a first aid kit. Those cuts should be disinfected and- and- I don’t know- stitched up?”
“Don’t need stitches, but I can patch you up. Lucky for you, I spent a lot of time overseas. That kind of thing makes you tough.” John spat again. He left it at that, purposely, or not so purposely, vague.
Blaze stared at Colette. She stared back.
“You okay with going back?” he finally asked. “Sorry. This wasn’t much of a date. We were just starting out. You didn’t even get to see the river at the end.”
“I don’t care,” she offered quickly, but not too quickly. She sounded like she meant it. “That looks like it hurts. I wouldn’t want to ride like that, no matter what’s at the end of the trail. We should go get it cleaned up before you get some weird infection and your arms drop off.”
“Would you still find me attractive?” he deadpanned and shot her a wicked grin. Being that it was smothered by his helmet, he doubted she got the full effect.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. Okay, so maybe she did.
“I don’t find you attractive now,” she ground out. “I doubt that armless would be much of an improvement. If you’d happen to fall on your face and your tongue gets ripped out, maybe I’d find you palatable then.”
“I thought you liked my tongue,” he shot back.
He forced himself off the ground and brushed dust off his jeans, wincing as the movement stung the gaping cuts on his arms. That fall was going to leave one hell of a bruise. He could practically feel the yellows and greens, blues and blacks forming all down his side, over his hips, and up his back. He’d have to check his chest for road rash but his arm seemed to have taken the worst of it. His jeans, worn as they were, prevented the skin on his legs from suffering the same ill fate as his arms.
Fucking t-shirts.
He shouldn’t have wanted to show off for Colette. If he’d used common sense and put on a jacket, maybe he’d have some of his dermis left.
John stalked off, not waiting to hear any more of the tongue comments between them. Colette stalked after their instructor, but not before she flipped him the bird.
So much for getting some TLC from the woman who was going to be his. And not just in the bent over his desk or one-night stand kind of way.
Maybe he had hit his head. Blaze took a tentative step, which was hard to do, given that the wind felt like it had been punched out of his lungs for the second time in less than ten minutes. He watched Colette’s hips as she walked away. Watched her mount up effortlessly and sit down on her quad, proud and straight. She started it and steered it around like a pro.
God. He didn’t want to just fuck her. He didn’t want to do any of the things he normally did with other women. Well, he did, but not like that. He wanted to know about her. About how she grew up. About her family. The things she liked and disliked. All those little things that made people close. A couple.
He never thought he’d date. He hardly even did things on a first name basis.
He’d actually wanted to make Colette scream his name and maybe add a few scratches to his back at a point in time. Well, it happened, just not in the way he would have wanted it to.
There he was now, bleeding all over the sand, after failed date number two, now wanting to get close to her. Talk about something with her. Anything – to get to know her better.
Thinking of taking that chance, of actually sitting down and letting someone close, of getting close, hurt a hell of a lot more than the road rash, so he gave his head a shake, snapping his neck uncomfortably under the weight of the helmet and forced himself to get back up on the old horse that bucked him off. Except it was a quad. A quad that Colette, as a tiny woman, had handled just fine.
He was pretty sure that if Colette had her way, he was never going to hear the end of it. The office was going to have something to talk about other than those flowers from the day before.
Blaze started his quad so that the loud hum of the engine would cover up his groan.
CHAPTER 12
Colette
After John dropped the first aid box onto the picnic table in a huge metal shop where rows and rows of quads were kept lined up, he left them alone, saying he’d be in his office if they needed him, wherever that was.
He was probably going over the waiver they’d signed before they started riding, just to make sure it was airtight. Of course he didn’t want to get sued.
Colette flipped the lid on the old white box. It had definitely seen better days. There was a huge dent on the left side and rust all around. She practically needed a Tetanus shot just to look at the thing and that was supposed to be what she used to fix up the gaping, bleeding wounds all over Blaze’s arms.
“I’m fine. Really. Just put that thing away,” he insisted.
Colette shook her head as she pulled out a roll of gauze and inspected it. The kit looked like it had never been used, at least on the inside. She pulled out a few adhesive bandages and kept the roll of gauze in her other hand. There was a small bottle of iodine that was still full. She figured that it would sting, but she couldn’t just throw clean bandages over filthy cuts.
“Just- just roll some gauze over it. It’s good enough to get us home.”
She ignored him as she splashed iodine onto a cotton pad. “I don’t know why you’d suggest doing this if you didn’t know how to ride.”
“I thought I’d try something new.”
“How I managed to stay on it and you didn’t is beyond me. I hope John writes it down, just to tell his other groups. It’s a funny story.”
“You think people laughing at me is funny?” Blaze’s lips tugged at the corners though, belying his annoyed tone.
“Absolutely. Your employees likely do it behind your back, so what would it matter?”
“Behind my back?” Blaze huffed. “What would they have to laugh at me about? I’m a fair boss.”
Colette shot him a scathing look. “Seriously? You really can’t think of a single thing? Mr. I’ll Bring Women To My Office To Shamelessly Bang Them All Day Long.”
“All day long?” Blaze scoffed. “I knew I had a reputation, but I don’t think even I could keep that up. Unless you were involved.”
Colette made a choked noise at the back of her throat and approached him with her iodine soaked cotton balls. She half wanted to stick them straight onto the worst parts of the road rash just to watch him squirm.
“Do you always have to be such an asshole?”
“What? I’m just saying. You were the one who propositioned me if I recall.”
“We’re here right now because it was the worst mistake I’ve ever done, and this date was just because you promised to leave me alone and correct the misunderstanding about us around the office.”
Blaze swiveled on the wooden seat so tha
t his left arm was facing her. It was the worst by far, with deep, ugly gashes all over the back and down the side. It looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to his skin and scrubbed until there was nothing left but red, pulpy mush. Then added a sprinkling of rocks and dirt just because they were feeling generous.
“Well, look at it this way. At least no one will still think that you’re a virgin.”
Colette gulped as she took in the bleeding mess that she was supposed to clean up. The sight of all that blood and ruined skin turned her stomach. Bile splashed up into her throat and a shiver chased its way up her spine.
“Stop it,” she hissed. “Jesus, Blaze, there are rocks in here. I don’t know what you want me to do with this. You need to go to the hospital.”
“Nah. Just wrap it up and I’ll find a pharmacy with some real bandages and get us a hotel room.”
“You’re impossible!” Colette ground out. “Why the hell would a hotel room help?”
Blaze turned, eyes twinkling even though his face was a mask of seriousness. “Because then I could have a shower and wash it out properly. Why? What were you thinking? If you’re open to more, I can always make that work.”
“You’re a dick.” Colette pressed the soaked cotton ball to Blaze’s mushy skin.
He let out a hiss of breath and his arm jerked beneath her fingertips. She thought it would be satisfying, teaching him a lesson, but it wasn’t at all. Hearing his low grunt of pain only twisted up her stomach into a mass of knots.
“I have a nice dick,” Blaze rasped, chest heaving. “If that’s what you meant?”
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t want to know. Now hold still. Let me clean you up a little.”
“Just bandage it. Unless you get some sick satisfaction out of torturing me. It’s not every day you meet a virgin who is also a masochist, but I’ll take it.”
“Ugh.” It wasn’t a very dignified response, but she couldn’t come up with much better.