Innocent Princess (Modern Princess Collection Book 2)
Page 8
I thank him and walk down the dark side hall where the bathrooms and back exit are. I find an old, nasty black payphone with a phonebook shoved haphazardly in a cubie under the phone. I pull out the book and flip to the yellow pages, locating the page for mechanics.
The page has been torn out.
"What the fuck?" I mutter. I don't even have the book closed when I'm pushed from behind.
I stumble forward before looking over my shoulder. A giant of a man, decked out in sleeves of tattoos and piercings, towers over me. He's got on a dingy white shirt and, of course, his black leather club vest.
"Excuse me," I say, righting myself.
"What's your problem, little man? You come into my den and fucking swear at my phone?"
Shit. The last thing I need is to pick a fight with the biker boss. I lift my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, man. I just need a mechanic, and the page for mechanics has been ripped out.”
"You little fuck-witt, there's only one mechanic worth calling in this town, so there's no need for a fucking page of them." He's surly, and he's pissed.
I'm a little pissed myself, but I keep clam. I keep my hands in front of me and walk backward a few steps.
He closes the gap I just put between us.
"That makes sense. If I could just get that number, we could be on our way."
The biker boss growls. I pick up speed in my backward walk until I bump into a barstool. Turning slightly, I move around the bar. The bartender watches from behind the bar but doesn't say a thing. I’ve gotten in plenty of fights in my day. I know how to fight. But this hairy motherfucker is three times my size, he has back up, I don’t, not to mention, I’ve got Zella to worry about it.
I look over my shoulder, and the man is following but not as quickly. When I look ahead at where I left Zella, I come to a stumbling halt.
Just as I realize that the bar is eerily quiet, I notice at least eight bikers of all shapes and sizes gathered around her booth. I can't see her exactly, but I see hair, so I know she's there. I feel the fiery breath of the biker boss down my neck and continue slowly to gather Blondie so we can get the hell out of here.
As I get closer, I hear one of the bikers ask, "I don't understand why she would keep that from you."
Zella's angelic voice rings in response. All the men gathered around her are completely enamored with her. Shit, do I know the feeling.
"I really don't know, Stan. I don't know, I'm past that, and I can't wait to meet them." Upon closer inspection, I realize nearly everyone at the table is smiling. Yikes. Happy biker dudes, it's a strange sight.
I clear my throat, and all eyes dart to me. "Uh, yeah, Blondie. Looks like it's time to get out of here."
Her face brightens. "Oh, wonderful! I was just telling the boys about our trip."
"And her bucket list," a tiny fellow chirps from the other side of the booth.
I mutter under my breath. Leave it to her to share her whole story with a bunch of scary-ass biker dudes.
"You know, we could take care of that tattoo right here, darling," another one tells her. This particular guy is sitting in the booth behind her but turned in the booth in a way that allows him to be part of the group.
"No thanks, fellas, but we've gotta get this show on the road."
I break through the crowd. There's no way I'm letting her get a tattoo in a biker bar in the middle of nowhere. If she wants a tat that bad, we will swing by the parlor I go to on our way back home.
The biker, scooting out of the booth to let Zella out, glares at me. Great. I'm the bad guy here.
Then a gruff voice from the bar adds, "You let us help your girl mark one thing off her list, and I'll give you the contact of the mechanic."
I zero in on the bartender, and as badly as I want to get out of here, I really need that mechanic. Honestly, I will not allow a tattoo in this dingy place, so I'm wondering what they could possibly help with. I cock my eyebrow, and he grins. He's missing a tooth or two.
From the bar, he bellows, "The lady mentioned she wanted to karaoke. Let's help her check that off her list, boys."
My jaw nearly hits the floor, but I gulp and turn to Zella. She's bouncing with excitement in the booth. She's all smiles and happiness. Who am I to take that away from her?
I nod, and the group disperses in a flurry of leather vests and chatter as they set up the tiny wooden stage I didn't see in the corner.
Never saw this turn coming.
12
Zella
The last chords of the famous musical duet come to a close. I hug the burly man who just helped me nail the song. The performance was super fun and required the audience's participation when it came to singing the chorus. The man smells of outside, and there's a faint hint of cigarette, but I don't mind. We've been hanging out in Cuddle Ducks for more than an hour now, and I'm almost used to the smell.
Tiny, the man I just debuted my Grease duet skills with, picks me up and spins me around the small stage. When he sets me down, I find Ryker in the crowd. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that the guy is on edge. He's been cheering me on but refused to come up and sing. Every time I get up here with one of Cuddle Duck's regulars, he stiffens in his chair. I don't know if he's feeling protective or possessive, but I can't deny the thrill running through my blood.
I throw him a bone though. This has been a rough night for him, so I put down the mic and step off the stage. A few steps bring me face to face with the stressed-out Ryker.
"Did you get the contact info for the mechanic yet? I'm ready to get out of here." I can see the relief drip from him as his shoulders relax.
"Hawk is contacting him." He tosses his thumb over his shoulder back toward the bar. The bartender, who I'll be the first to admit scared the bejeebies out of me when we first came in, has turned out to be quite surprising. He's got a voice on him, too. He took a break from the bar and belted out a wonderful rendition of Whitney Houston's, I Wanna Dance with Somebody. I think the whole bar was shocked by that performance.
"That's great. What time is it anyway?" I guzzle down the water that Ryker keeps having refilled for me.
"It's nearly eight. I'm worried about how much time we lost today." He hasn't messed with his phone once since we've been here. His focus has been on me. The power of having his whole focus really boosts a girl's confidence. Now that I'm sitting next to him at the table, he pulls up his map app on his phone and studies the route.
"When did you plan on stopping for the night?" I wasn't positive about the sleeping arrangements he'd planned. Truthfully, I hadn't asked because I didn't want to fret over it.
"I'd planned on us stopping around nine. So, we lost roughly three hours of drive time." He's still fiddling with his phone when Hawk approaches our table.
"Little lady, you were fantastic tonight." He smiles down at me, and there is a warmth in his eyes. He slides his eyes over to Ryker, and they immediately harden. I fight back a giggle. Poor guy can't catch a break tonight. "I called in a favor, and Big Ben is going to open up his shop tonight and work on your car. The last thing we want is for Miss Zella to miss out on meeting her parents."
Emotion craws up the back of my throat. I smile at him because it's all I can manage. Ryker expresses his thanks, stands, and sticks out his hand, surprising Hawk. They shake, some kind of manly understanding passes between them.
"I've got my truck in the back. I'll drive you to your car so you can get your stuff then back in to town. There's a motel; it's pretty nice for these parts. Tiny's family owns it, and they are getting a room ready for you guys. It's on the house. Your car will be parked out front and your key left in the office in the morning when you wake up."
I'm speechless, and a tear leaks from my eyes.
Ryker shakes his head. "Wow, thank you so much. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, but please, don't comp the work on the car."
Hawk nods and says all right, though I get the impression from the look on his face that Ryker's bill won't be the fu
ll price.
We follow Hawk out of the bar.
Before we leave, Tiny catches up to me. "Miss Zella, I followed you on Instagram. Make sure you post pictures of meeting your parents and as you mark off items on that bucket list."
I laugh and promise him I will share all the pictures.
Thirty minutes later, Ryker and I check into a tiny one-bedroom with two full beds. Like Hawk said, the room is pretty nice. The decor isn't outdated much, and the room looks and smells clean. Ryker seems at ease as he tosses his duffle on the bed closest to the door, then gently lays his satchel next to it.
"I know we ate bar food at Cuddle Ducks, but there is a convenience store a couple blocks away. Let's take a walk and get some popcorn or something, and some of those boxed donuts for the morning. That way, we don't have to waste time getting on the road." He unzips his bag and digs around for something as I put my own bag on my bed.
"Sounds like a plan," I tell him, as I look around the room. There's a tiny microwave and coffee pot on the desk across from the beds.
"Here." I look up as Ryker tosses me a sweatshirt. It's a little chilly out, and I didn't expect to be walking around this late. I have a light sweatshirt in my bag, but I don't mention it. As I pull the cozy hoodie over my head, I'm engulfed in Ryker. The smell of him seeps through the fabric, and I imagine what it would be like if it were Ryker who was wrapped around me. I discreetly pull the collar up to my nose and inhale. I may just sleep in this fabric cloud of heaven.
"Let's go," he says from the door as he opens it. If he witnessed my sniffing of his hoodie, he doesn't show it. I gather my pride and follow him, grabbing my purse as I leave.
We spend ten minutes in the tiny store, gathering food and drinks. Ryker tells me he needs to grab something in the back and tells me to meet him upfront. I wander around the front and am trying on sunglasses when he appears at my side, a few bags in hand. "You already paid?"
"Yeah, you were engrossed in the glasses." He chuckles.
"I would have paid. This is my trip." I huff. I hate that he's footing the bill.
"No worries, Blondie. Think of it as me treating you to dinner." I giggle and nod. He has a point.
Back in our room, I kick off my flippies and start to pull out the provisions, wondering if he'd mind if I opened the donuts now.
"Hey, I got you something." He's standing next to me, close enough that our arms are nearly touching when he hands me a box. I take the box from him and realize it's a box of purple hair dye. The grin grows on my face, and when I look up at him, his smile matches my own.
"It's semi-permanent, so after a few washes, it'll come out. Thought I'd help you mark off another bucket list item." He lifts his shoulder like it isn't a big deal, but it is to me. Turning slightly, so I'm facing him, I catch him off guard with a hug. He laughs as he hugs me back.
"Gotta admit, Blondie, I'm liking how you thank me."
"You give the best presents," I say as I lean back from him, bringing us face to face.
He smirks—a cocky, sexy smirk. "I give good—"
I place my hand over his mouth. "Don't ruin the moment, Ryker."
He winks at me, then kisses the palm of my hand. Tingles shoot through my hand, up my arm, and straight down to my core. I blink and slowly remove my hand from his mouth. The flush creeps up my neck and stops at my cheeks. I step back, and he lets go of me.
"I'm going to do this now. You good out here?" I walk backward, taking the box with me.
He winks again. "I'm sure I'll find something to do while I wait for you and your purple hair."
"That's good." I scurry into the bathroom and close the door.
Thirty minutes later, I open up the bathroom, and a rush of cool air hits my skin as all the steam that was held hostage in the tiny bathroom escapes. Upon reading the directions on the hair color box, I realized there was no way I’d be able to dye my own hair. There is just too much of it. So I decided on a nice sized chunk near the front of my head and dyed that instead. Then I showered off a day's worth of travel and biker bar stench. I normally don't blow dry my hair, mostly because I don't have time for that, but using the compact blow dryer in the bathroom, I now have a section of dry, purple hair.
The bathroom mirror clears from its fog as I braid my hair. I absolutely adore the pop of color. That's it. I'm going to make a hair appointment when we get back home, and I'm getting my hair cut. I want more colors in my hair. I'm going to have to revisit all the pictures I have saved in a special folder on my phone, so I know exactly what I want.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I see Ryker on his bed, leaning against the headboard, arm behind his head, watching something on the television. He focuses on me and drops the remote in his hand.
"Well, let's see it, Blondie." He kicks his feet over the side of the bed, sitting there waiting for me as I walk to him. I sit down opposite of him on my bed and pull my braid over my shoulder and turn the side of my head toward him.
"I didn't have enough for all my hair, so I just did a strip. I love it." I tell him as I face him.
His smile is soft and sweet. "It suits you. I almost think the strip is better." He lifts his hand and snags a piece of purple hair that has already fallen from the braid. I swear, my hair has a mind of its own, and right now, it's asking for Ryker's touch.
He gently toys the strands, twirling them between his forefinger and thumb. I don't realize I'm leaning in toward him until I notice how close we are. He's leaning in too, my hair drawing us together.
I bite my lip as my gaze drops to his mouth. The corner of his mouth tips up in a smirk, and my eyes dart back to his. He isn't looking at me though. No, his focus is on my hair that is within his grasp. He must sense my gaze because he slowly drags his eyes to mine, then they drop to my lips.
My body flushes with heat as I sit there, still as can be, hoping and praying that he kisses me. My breath hitches as he drops my hair and catches my chin between his fingers. Tilting my face up, he's all slow and steady. I struggle to catch my breath and play it cool.
He leans in closing the distance and presses hip lips ever so lightly on mine. His kiss is gentle, but he moves his against mine with such intimacy, it steals my breath away. I return the kiss with fervor, matching his lips’ sensual caress. He breaks the connection all too soon, but it lingers, and I'm slow to open my eyes.
Blinking, I'm greeted with his handsome face.
"I've been wanting to do that for a while now, Blondie." He's back on his bed, and I can tell from his distance, he doesn't plan on taking this further.
"What took you so long?" I challenge, because dang it, I want more. So much more.
"Just want to do things right with you, Zella." While I love it when he calls me Blondie, hearing my name on his lips sends thousands of little shivers through my body.
We are lost in the moment, both smiling at each other, heat raging between us. He abruptly stands, and I slowly drag my eyes up his tall, athletic form.
"I'm gonna shower. I'll be quick, but I rented us a movie on demand. Some chick flick about some college acapella groups."
It's my turn to smirk as I push myself further into my bed. "We'll want to leave this part out of the tales we tell back at CamU. Wells and Cameron will revoke your man card for sure."
"Hardy, har, har." He smiles at me as he digs around his duffel for a change of clothes. "It looked like something right up your ally, so I rented it."
"Well, thank you. I appreciate that, Ryker." I nestle into my pillows and pull a paperback out of my bag next to me. He ducks into the bathroom, and I decide not to mention that I've seen this movie so many times, I could star in it.
I take the next several minutes to center myself and pull myself out of the sexual haze he seems to be putting me in more and more often. Knowing he's been wanting to kiss me, helps my resolve in wanting to pursue him. Taking things slow and doing things right is honorable, and the gentlemanly thing to do, but I'm only going to let that go on for so long.
13
Zella
The sound of the room door clicking shut wakes me from a restless sleep. Slowly blinking my eyes open, I take in the room. I'm lying on my side, facing Ryker's bed. It's empty. I roll on to my back and push myself up into a sitting position against the headboard. I look around the tiny room, noticing the bathroom door is ajar, lights off. He's clearly not here.
As I reach for my phone on the nightstand, which is bolted to the wall between the beds, I see a piece of paper lying over my phone. Picking up the Big Bear Motel branded paper, I read a note from Ryker.
Blondie, gone to get the car settled. We need to hit the road, so if you're reading this, get that pretty ass out of bed and get ready. You're meeting your parents today.
It's signed with a simple R. I reread the note over a few more times, memorizing his messy scratch. Just then, my phone chimes for the six o'clock alarm I set.
I jump out of bed and get ready for one of the biggest days of my life.
I'm ready and waiting, watching a cooking show, munching on donuts thirty minutes later when I hear the door unlock. Swinging it open, Ryker walks in.
"Oh, good. You're up." He smiles.
"You mean my pretty ass? Yes, we are both ready to go." I flip off the TV and offer him a donut. He winks, snags one, and eats it as he walks through the room, checking for items he might not have packed. He picks up a stray sock at the foot of his bed and shoves it in his duffel.
"Let's get this show on the road, Blondie." He hoists his duffel on his shoulder then reaches for mine. I grab our room keys and close up behind us.
After dropping our keys off in the office, we are settled and ready to go. He starts the car and looks over at me.
"You ready for this? We've got about five hours of driving left." I nod. I cross and uncross my legs, unable to get comfortable.