Chapter Eleven #2
Yet as he drove into the back roads hours later, the carnival closed and his wallet a hundred bucks thicker, blinking hazards flashed in the distance.
Someone broken down? He slowed. Best make sure they had a cell on them so they could call help if they needed it…
Except familiar taillights of a Land Rover, littered in bumper stickers, became clear.
Charlie?
The hood was up. A flashlight bobbed beneath it. Steam rising?
He hit his brakes.
Hit his blinker.
Cruised past the girl leaning over her engine, a Birkenstock kicked up behind her, like some pinup who wasn’t even trying as she reached down between the hoses and hot metal, and crunched to a stop on the gavel shoulder in front of her.
She shot upright, brushing back her wisps, and turned to watch him as he threw his ’79 Ford manual into neutral and clenched the foot brake. On guard. The girl who’d blown him off as if he wasn’t good enough after convincing him he might actually be worth it.
He threw open the door, climbing down, and turned to face her. “Well as I live and breathe, it’s Dr. Bradford.” He palmed his chest like a Sunday church biddy.
Sauntering up to her, he relished how her eyes skimmed down his form, lingering on his chest, his waist, lower. Noted the key clenched in her grip protruding between her knuckles, ready to throw down?
“Relax, Charlie. It’s just me.”
The tension deflated from her shoulders, and she turned back to her steaming vehicle.
“Trouble,” she murmured tightly as she reached for something—hissed—and yanked her fingers back, shaking off the sting. “Are you following me?”
“You wish, beauty queen.” He smirked at her muttered gawd and stopped behind her, bracing his hands on the Land Rover on either side of her, boxing her in and, fuck, she smelled so good as he leaned over her to examine the guts, diagnosing the problem.
“But that’s a negative. I got your message loud and clear, so why would I chase your pretty tail when I can move on? ”
She whirled around at his words by her ear, that pretty tail brushing across his lap as she did, her mouth opening to reply—
“I’m headed home.” Their faces were so close.
Her breasts were pressed to his chest and like a bastard he leaned in a touch harder.
“Route 20 also leads out toward Dixon-McClintock Farms.”
She huffed. Palmed her face. Scoured it in frustration and he finally backed up a step as she stood upright and closed her eyes, dropping back her head, when he noticed a YouTube video on her phone, some guy in the middle of demonstrating a variety of reasons a Land Rover engine would be steaming.
Okay, she was resourceful, too, trying to troubleshoot.
“Sorry. It’s been a horrible night. First Daisy, now this.”
T.R. softened, glanced around the hood and caught sight of that head as blond as her momma’s wedged against the window beneath the cab lights, sleeping.
“What’s wrong with Daisy? She still scared from the crowd thing?
I mean, uh, from what I saw of y’all from the stage she looked like she had a great time the rest of the night. ”
Now she smirked up at him. Even at five seven, he towered over her from his six six.
“So you were following me.”
Busted. He pulled his lower lip in. Ran his tongue across it thoughtfully, as he returned his attention to beneath the hood and stepped around her, so he didn’t have to look at her.
“Hard not to,” he replied quietly.
“Please, don’t feed me another obvious line, like I’ll suddenly believe you’re smitten again.
What, blond chick on stage didn’t work out tonight and now you’re desperate?
Or did you already chew her up, spit her out, and ready for your next conquest?
Does your band high-five you every time a chick posts some after-sex pic with you online? ”
His jaw tightened at her disgusted venom. She’d seen the McClintock’s Alumni page. He ground his molars, as Tyler’s warning snaked through his head. He’d been getting warnings like that for years. He’d just never had a reason to care until now.
“I know you were mad at me that morning, but you really don’t get to act like I hurt you.”
Yeah, well you did.
“And I just don’t understand why you had to hurt me back instead of just take off—”
“I stopped now to help, even if you wish I’d just vanish.” Then he turned on his shitkicker and jogged back to his truck.
“Wait,” she called out behind him. “Don’t leave! I need y—Eh … I mean…”
He reached inside and flipped on his floodlights on top of his cab as she winced into the brightness before he swung up over his tailgate like he was jumping a fence and flipped up his truck box.
“Now ain’t those some sweet nothin’s I’ve been waiting two weeks to hear.” Rummaging inside, he glanced backward. “Seems like you’ve been needing me all night so far, and hella grateful you’ve been, too.”
She rolled her eyes louder than thunder as he dropped the box lid and swung back over his tailgate, landing with a crunch in the gravel and twirling a roll of duct tape around his finger as he returned.
“I meant, I—God,” she breathed, closing her eyes, resisting what he was certain she didn’t want to ask him. “I—we—my SUV and…”
He leaned into her ear. “Whisper what you need nice and pretty for me, baby. Maybe as I’m drivin’ away you could give me a damned phone call to ask me?”