4. Erica
The vending machine buzzes and spits out my crumpled dollar note.
“Really? Again ?” I kick the bottom, grimacing at the pain shooting through my toes.
“Just take my fucking money!”
My headache is much better.
The shower and painkillers helped, and slapping on makeup and doing my hair always makes me feel put together.
But this…
this is the last straw.
How dare this stupid machine stand between me and a little snack?
!
I deserve a little snack, dammit!
Cursing, I flatten the bill against the glass and try again.
More buzzing.
Then finally, the dim LED display shows a $2 balance.
I make my selection and the metal spiral inside the machine turns to release a small bag of off-brand BBQ chips.
I’m about to clap with excitement.
My stomach growls like a wild animal and this isn’t a proper dinner, but it’ll have to do.
Less food means I’ll get drunk faster, which is a good thing.
The crisp packet tilts forward and gets stuck—half caught in the spiral.
“Shit! I can’t fucking believe this!” I whine.
I massage my temples as I scan the motel parking lot and the dark front office.
The resident creep must have gone to sleep in the back room earlier than usual, and the thought of waking him to fix the issue makes me wince.
Hoping for a miracle that won’t happen, I press the same numbers on the machine again.
Nothing moves.
I push against the side and attempt to shake the metal colossus, but it won’t budge.
The air rushes from my lungs.
Defeated, I lean my forehead against the cool glass, holding back sudden tears.
How silly to be in pieces about a packet of chips.
I won’t cry.
I won’t cry.
I won’t —
“Do you need help, darlin’?” a deep, smooth voice drawls.
I jump.
My ankle rolls and I trip, losing my balance.
Before I fall, a firm grip closes around my wrist, pulling me against something hard.
And warm.
A body .
More precisely, a broad chest covered by an open, red flannel with a black t-shirt underneath.
My heart turns upside down as I spot a large, rough hand wrapped around my bare arm, keeping me upright.
The fingertips and wide palm are calloused, the dry heat of the stranger’s skin searing into me.
A snake’s head is tattooed on his wrist, winding through roses along a thick forearm, muscles cording beneath sun-kissed skin.
Its tail disappears under a rolled-up sleeve at his elbow.
I bend my neck as far back as I can to meet a green gaze glimmering beneath the brim of a black cowboy hat.
The man runs his free hand over the dark stubble along his sharp jaw, drawing my attention to a photorealistic tattoo of a forest and a broad river on this arm.
No doubt it continues beneath his clothes.
Christ, two arm sleeves?
And so far, all his tattoos are black and white, like most of mine.
I’ve always had a weakness for guys with ink, but monochrome is my favorite kind.
The slight wrinkles around his eyes deepen as he tilts his head and gives me a lopsided smirk.
He seems oddly familiar.
Do I know him from somewhere?
His height makes me feel small and despite the alarm bells going off in my head as I notice the hunting knife at his belt, I can’t help the throb between my legs.
Being this handsome should be a criminal offence.
He oozes a dangerous sort of charm, making the hairs on my arms stand.
I want to run away and melt into him at the same time.
The longer I stare at him, the stronger that vague feeling of recognition gets until realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
My lungs stop.
Oh God, this guy looks like he stepped straight from that dirty dream I had last night!
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
“I shouldn’t’ve crept up on you like that, but you looked upset.” He has a Southern accent with a twist, like he trained himself to hide his natural speech mannerisms, but they sneak in anyway.
I blink, stupefied, my pulse hammering in my throat.
“Are you alright?” he asks and tugs gently on my arm.
I snap out of my trance, becoming very aware of his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.
With considerable effort, I continue to breathe like a normal person and inhale the scent streaming off him.
Tobacco.
Whisky.
Something woodsy with a hint of musk, perhaps cologne.
Delicious .
I have to stop myself from burying my nose in his chest and sniffing him like a weirdo.
I thank past me for using the last few spritzes of my favorite perfume after the shower.
It’s an expensive fragrance called “Sinner” I won from a raffle at a beauty supply store.
I hope it’s doing its job, making me seem mysterious and seductive to him, despite literally falling into his arms and gawking at him like a deer in the headlights.
“I, uh—the…” Stammering, I glance at the vending machine.
How embarrassing.
My brain isn’t great at functioning hungover, starving, and entirely scrambled by the gorgeous stranger holding me prisoner.
Figuratively.
His grin turns into full-blown laughter, deepening the cute smile lines on his face.
I guess he’s in his late thirties.
“Don’t fret now. I see the problem,” he says and lets me go, gesturing to the vending machine.
“If you’d kindly step aside, I’ll give it a try.”
Yes, right.
I’m still pressed up against this hot cowboy, and he’s not making me do it anymore.
This is all me.
I clear my throat and move away.
“Be my guest,” I choke out.
Wow, a full sentence!
Congratulations, Erica.
His attention shifts to the machine, giving me a chance to stare at him again while he’s distracted.
Raven-black curls with a handful of stray greys stick out from under his hat, and he has wide shoulders and thick upper arms.
A broad back.
His strong thighs are covered by slate jeans, and he wears black cowboy boots.
Even through his clothes I can tell that he’s muscular, but not like those steroid-jacked gym bros.
I hate those.
He definitely works out, but he looks more as if he does a lot of heavy lifting, and that look I can get behind.
Or rather under.
Or in front, on all fours with him behind me—
Calm down , I scold myself, but he’s the ideal candidate for that one item on my bucket list.
Hooking up with a hot stranger .
“Aw, damn,” he curses under his breath before addressing me.
“This might get a lil loud.”
“What—”
His fist pummels the side of the machine until the chips drop and a big, fat dent warps the metal.
He reaches into the chute and offers the bag to me.
The single serving size looks comically small in his hand.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I take it, flashing him a smile.
His gaze drags from my lips over my breasts to my waist and my hips.
Then down my thighs and my bare legs and I swear I can feel it on my skin like a trail of lava.
“Excuse my asking, but do you always dress up like this to get cheap snacks from an old vending machine in a dingy motel parking lot?” he asks, smirking.
“Not that I’m complaining. You’re a damn sight for sore eyes.”
I laugh.
“Only when I think I’m going to run into hot cowboys.”
He raises a brow as he tips his hat back and tuts.
“I hate to disappoint you, but I ain’t a cowboy.”
“Oh?”
“All this…” He gestures at himself.
“It’s my dad’s influence and a way to honor him, I guess. The hat belonged to him. I inherited a whole collection. Belts, boots, and ties, too.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“My dad grew up on a ranch, and let me tell you, that man had style with a capital S. My mother would be spinning in her grave if she saw me now, though.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
My question catches him off guard, and frankly, me too.
Yikes, can I get any more inappropriate?
I just met this guy and I’m already asking about his family history?
I should’ve stuck with stammering instead of whatever this is.
His head cocks, eyes rounding.
He twists the tip of his boot, bits of gravel grinding on the concrete, and his lips part without a sound, like he’s trying to figure out if he should answer.
“My mother was a proper English lady. She came to Texas for work and fell for my dad,” he says, speaking faster and faster.
“But like often, the quirks we find attractive in the beginning end up annoying us. For her, that was my dad’s accent. His looks. What seemed charming at the start turned into an embarrassment for her. Especially ‘round her high-society friends. That’s why she made sure I dressed well, spoke properly , and insisted I called her Charlotte instead of mom. She barely tolerated being addressed as mother.”
An awkward buzz hangs in the air, and I fidget with the packet of chips.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked something so personal. I don’t know what came over me,” I say with an apologetic smile.
“Naw, it’s my fault for bringing her up in the first place. I’m probably boring you with my rambling. Not sure why I told you any of it,” he responds, rubbing over the back of his neck, cheeks darkening.
“You were making polite small talk and I’m oversharing like hell. Nobody wants to hear a stranger’s family troubles, right?”
My heart squeezes.
“I wanted to know or I wouldn’t have asked.”
But why do I want to know more about him?
What does it matter to me?
He favors me with another, softer smile, and butterflies surge in my belly.
He’s not just hot.
He’s sincere, too.
Sweet.
Vulnerable.
The only men I slept with were a handful of boyfriends.
One-night stands aren’t my thing, but I have this one chance before I end it all, and I never thought I’d find someone like him in this town.
Letting the opportunity pass me by would be such a waste.
“You see, I don’t usually do this…” I attempt to hide my nervousness in a giggle.
“But it’s a long night and I’m a little lonely. I have a room here—uh, number one back there—and I wondered if you’d like to… you know…”
He points at my hand, his smile turning into an impish smirk.
“If I’d like to share those potato chips with you?”
For the first time since I lost everything, I burst out laughing.
“Yes, that .” I hold up the bag.
“Chips.”
He clicks his tongue, faking concern.
“Are you sure that’s enough for both of us?”
I gather my courage and step closer, drawing a finger along his chest.
“We can make it work.”
His hand shoots out.
I gasp as he clasps the nape of my neck and yanks me against him.
My heart jumps into my throat.
A shadow crosses his face and his expression shifts, turning hungry.
Ravenous.
“Alright then, darlin’.” He lets out a low, foreboding chuckle.
“You go on ahead. I gotta grab something from my truck, and then I’ll be right there with you. Hope you’re ready for the best sex of your whole fuckin’ life. But consider this a warning…” He leans down.
His nose brushes mine and my stomach flips.
“I’ll ruin you tonight.”