Chapter 7
Something wakes me. I jerk upright and find that indeed it wasn’t a bad dream. Diesel is looking at me.
“You’re staring.” I roll my neck, every muscle protesting.
“Just glad to see that frown. Means you got some rest and got your fire back in you.”
I shake my head and rip the band out of my hair, groaning roughly as I massage my scalp. “I need a shower, my hair smells like smoke.”
“Hold your horses a little longer. We’re almost to the first safe house.”
First. I don’t like the sound of that so I slump in the seat and put my boots on the dash, just to annoy him.
Heavens. I’m usually not so childish, but it seems I woke up on the wrong side of the truck.
The kink in my back doesn’t help.
“Any word from the sheriff’s office on the cause of the fire?”
Diesel pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “Nope. Those things take time. Want some?”
It’s cinnamon and gives me a flashback from my childhood when I chomp on it. It also makes me think of Red Hots.
Which reminds me of the Valentine’s show in Austin this weekend.
The gum starts to taste bitter.
I can’t miss that rodeo. It’s the culmination of years of work. The thought of losing the opportunity sits on my chest, suffocating.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
Scratching my scalp too hard, I mutter, “About how jacked up life can be.”
“You thinking about the show?”
I don’t like how he can read me. My brother is the same. And right now this pain feels too personal to talk about.
“How about you don’t try to psychoanalyze me?”
“Impossible, it’s my job. You don’t have to like it or want it.” He pops the gum between his back teeth, checks the mirrors and looks over at me.
Diesel’s eyes are so dark, they look black. Which coordinates well with his soul.
“You’re fired,” I say as I chew the spicy gum with a vengeance, “How do you like that?”
He has the nerve to shake his head. “Too bad you’re not the boss.”
“Of all people, why did I get stuck with you telling me what to do?”
It’s a terrible time to have a mutinous fantasy pop into my head. Of being told what to do. Only I’m naked and so is Diesel and he’s telling me exactly what to do.
“Oh god,” I groan, looking away.
He chuckles. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I saw the way your neck flushed. Hell, you might as well have been touching me. Your body is screaming loud and clear.”
“It’s dark in here. You must have imagined it.”
“One of my best skills is reading body language.”
The sound of him chewing that gum is stupidly sexual. How is that possible?
“Read this.” I cross my arms, and my legs, lift my chin and resume staring out the window.
He doesn’t reply, but if juice could be squeezed from a steering wheel, it would be happening right now.
After a minute, Diesel mutters, “Fuck, I wish I didn’t think you’re cute when you’re mad.”
Wait. What did he just say?
“Come again?”
“Haven’t come the first time.”
Oh my god. He’s out of his head.
Why is my pulse speeding and why the hell are tingles forming in my female anatomy?
I must need food. Because I DO NOT care that Diesel thinks I’m cute or that he’s talking about coming.
“Welcome to blue balls, then. Because I got nothing for ya.”
The sexiest chuckle comes from his chest.
Ignore. Remember he’s a jerk. He’s not hot.