Chapter 19 - Rust
RUST
“Faster!” Tally shouts.
I step on the gas and the motor howls as we race the setting sun toward the horizon. Thanks to her need for speed, we’ve made good headway into Tennessee since we left in the afternoon.
She rolls down the window, holding on to the grab handle above the door to pull herself up. My brows knit. I know exactly what she’s about to do cause she used to do it when we were teens, too.
“Careful!” I warn.
“Oh, don’t be an ill pill!” Her nose scrunches. “Where’s that crazy boy who took an old car from the junkyard, added tires, and convinced me to ride it with him downhill into the pond behind the trailer park?”
I wince at the stupidity and hubris of my youth. “That stunt could’ve gotten us killed. I’m older and wiser now.”
“And no fun!”
“That ain’t true!”
“Then prove it, Big Guy. Don’t you dare slow down.”
Tally sits on the window frame, leaning out. I curse under my breath and reach over, wrapping my fingers around the bend of her knee.
Wind in her hair, she laughs. “Whoo-hoo! Hell yeah! Still feels like flyin’!”
Her laugh is contagious and I find myself smiling, too. Fuck, I missed her thirst for life. With Tally, everything is an adventure.
“Get your pretty ass back in here!” I yell.
“Or what?”
I tug on her leg. “Don’t make me pull over and show you.”
She slips back inside the cabin, wrestling her leg free with a short-lived pout. “I knew you had me, so I wasn’t scared.”
“Put on your seatbelt right fucking now!” I growl.
“Okay, okay.”
“How did you survive without me keeping you safe?”
She smooths over her hair. “Barely.”
“Devil woman, bewitching me with your charms.”
She flutters her lashes. “And is it workin’?”
I gesture at the road. “You really gotta ask? I’m fixin’ to drive you all the way from Kentucky to Cali.”
Tally hums the chorus of ‘Heads Carolina, Tails California.’ “Fair point. But there’s one thing missing on this road trip.”
“Ever the passenger princess making demands,” I tease.
“Hell no! I ain’t no passenger princess. Usually, my standard rule is ‘Keys or get the fuck out.’”
“Is that so?” I raise a brow.
“I don’t need a man to drive me around.” A flush creeps over her cheeks, deepened into crimson by the setting sun. “You’re the exception. F-for nostalgia’s sake!”
“You’re my exception, too. I never let another girl touch this truck, let alone ride in it. You’re my one and only passenger princess.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I told you already: Flattery gets you nowhere.”
“Wrong. Flattery gets you everywhere. It got you in the shower with me.”
Her mouth opens and closes. She can’t pretend that didn’t happen.
“Let’s stop at that little gas station!” she says suddenly, pointing. “Cause gettin’ back to my original point, we’re missing snacks and drinks.”
I pull over, killing the engine by the only pump. “Good opportunity to fill up the tank, too. You wanna keep driving all night?”
“Do we have to decide now? Let’s see where the wind takes us. That’s the point of this trip. I gotta be in LA by next Friday, but until then I’m free.” With a shrug, she unbuckles her seatbelt, takes her bag and gets out.
I whistle. “Oh, hell naw! Stop right there, Trouble!”
I jump out and sprint after her. She squeals as I scoop her into a bridal carry.
“Let me down! I’m too heavy!” she protests and slaps my chest.
I scoff, marching back to the truck. “Perfect is what you are. I ain’t one of them stupid city boys who don’t appreciate you. I’m a grown man and I can hold all of you—body and soul. You deserve to be treated like a queen and that’s exactly what I’m fixin’ to do, whether you like it or not.”
Tally sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, that’s hot…”
I put her in the passenger seat, blocking the door with my body.
She giggles nervously, bright pink burning into her cheeks. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Here’s one of my rules, Trouble: My wife ain’t opening her car door herself.”
“Ex-wife,” she sputters, barely getting the word out.
She flusters so easily when I call her my wife. I love it and tell myself that it means she cares at least a little.
“Wife,” I growl. “Now are you gonna let me open the damn car door for you?
She nods, her thighs clenching as if I told her to shut up and suck my cock—and she liked it. Nothing like a bit of good ol’ country manners to get a girl going.
I let out an affirmative grumble. “Then let’s try this again.”
I shut the door, wait a beat, then open it and offer Tally my hand. She takes it, climbing out. All the while, she looks at me like I hung the moon.
“I can’t remember the last time a guy opened a door for me,” she confesses.
“You’ve been around the wrong sort of man, Trouble.”
She gives me a heated glance. “I’m startin’ to think you’re right.”
My cock is getting the smart idea to bend her over the tailgate, but I don’t want to traumatize the old fella sitting behind the till inside the gas station store. That sorta indecency is bound to give him a stroke.
I settle for giving Tally’s plump ass a light smack and she squeaks. “While I pump gas, I want you to pick out your favorite snacks and put ‘em by the checkout.”
“Okay!” she beams and walks toward the entrance, hips swaying. Damn, I sure hate to see her leave but love to watch her go.
Groaning, I adjust my throbbing dick. If she keeps this up, we ain’t gonna make it much further today.
The smell of tobacco and dust hits me as I walk into the gas station. The hunched old fella behind the till straightens his suspenders and greets me with a wave of his pipe. Then he dunks his bony hand into a huge jar on the counter. His long, nicotine-stained nails skewer a pickled egg like claws.
Okay, that’s gross. No eggs for us today.
I glance around. This is one of those family-owned places that has a little bit of everything, even a rack of dusty cowboy hats and faded ‘I LOVE TN’ T-shirts by the checkout.
The toiletries could be considered rare vintage collectibles. I think I spot a shampoo brand that went out of production a decade ago. Guess they don’t get many customers out here. The freshest thing in the store is a basket with tomatoes and cucumbers. Home-grown, I bet.
Tally browses a magazine rack and I join her. Most issues are months outdated; some are from last year.
“Didn’t know you were interested in uh… Modern Yachting?” I ask.
She smirks conspiratorially. “I’m not.”
I give her a questioning stare, but she doesn’t say anything more. “Keep your secrets then. Did you pick out what you want?”
“Yeah, left everything on the counter. Money, too.”
I bark a laugh. “You ain’t paying for shit when we’re together.”
“But—”
“I don’t give a fuck how much more money you make. My wife doesn’t pay for her things, I do. Better get used to it cause that’s another of my rules.”
Her mouth shuts with a toothy clack and I grin triumphantly.
“I’ll grab some stuff too and then I’ll pay. You’ll get your cash back in the truck,” I say decisively and turn on my heel.
I check the beers, but Tally already picked up my favorite brand, which happens to be her favorite as well.
I add a bottle of bourbon to the selection.
She also chose a box of chocolates, jerky, and a handful of single packed, extra-large pickles.
I grab coke and energy drinks, plus a packet of sour gummy worms for her and BBQ chips for me.
The store owner clears his throat. I follow his stare to Tally, who has wandered toward the candy section, lingering suspiciously. She’s entirely oblivious to being watched, picking up random packets of gum then putting them back down.
What the fuck is she doing… Wait, is she going to steal a packet of gum?
God, she could not be any more obvious. She frowns like she’s seriously pondering which flavor screams criminal mastermind.
Finally, she palms a packet of bright blue bubblegum and slowly opens the zipper of her purse. The owner puts down his pipe.
Fuck, she’s gonna get caught.