Chapter 1 #2
I laughed out loud.
"Not the normal reaction," he said. "But I get it. Not much rushing today."
"Not much rushing," I repeated. He was easy to talk to. Open and laid back. Like a... I searched for the vibe when a Jack Johnson song drifted from my radio.
"Jack Johnson," I muttered. "That's it."
"He's chill," Rush said.
"Jack?"
"Yeah." He leaned against my car like he owned it. "Rush is short for Rushden. Brody Rushden."
I nodded. "Yeah. You look like a Brody."
"What does a Brody look like?"
"You," I told him.
And just like that I was flirting with a bad boy on a bike instead of a professional in a suit like my mom and dad hoped for. They were already disappointed I'd hooked up with Jeremy.
This would be a new low.
Rush
She was so fucking hot. And not just because her little black bomb of a car must've been like a sauna inside. With dark hair, sapphire eyes, and olive skin, she looked like a fashion model who'd taken a wrong turn and ended up with an office job.
Way out of my league. I wasn't surprised she hadn't wanted to talk to me at first, let alone open her door.
But here she was. The beauty talking to the beast.
I was doing my best to seem like middle ground and not some goon for the club. We had enforcers at the Skulls, sure, and they were solid guys. But I was a nomad. The club courier. Less knuckles, and more miles.
"So where were you headed?" I asked.
Fuck. Real middle-school cool, Rush. It's rush hour and she's dressed for the office. Where the fuck did I think she was going?
"Mud wrestling club a little ways up the road," she said.
I laughed. She did too. Quick-witted. I liked that.
"I know the one," I said.
"You do?"
She looked genuinely confused.
"Yeah. It's where the dirty girls go when they realize guys in suits are too starchy to have any fun."
She shook her head. "Too starchy? Is that what you think about people like me?"
"Not you in particular."
"And what do you think about me? Someone you've just met and know nothing about?"
"Let me guess," I said. "You're married to an accountant. Headed home so you two can hit an expensive restaurant and talk about work and the kids you're having when you turn thirty."
"Oh, Mr. Rush is very crafty, isn't he?"
"How so?"
"You just tried to find out if I'm married, having kids, thirty yet, and if I like fine dining."
"I did, didn't I?" I grinned.
She nodded, but didn't elaborate.
"So was any of that right?"
"Nuh-uh. Not even close."
"So you're not married. Good."
"Why?"
"Nothing. Just collecting data." I leaned in. "You're not thirty. So at least a year younger than me.”
She smiled.
"See what I just did? I'm thirty. You can do the math."
No reply.
"You're not married," I said, "but someone like you has a partner. I’m guessing it's a guy."
"Why?"
"Because you wouldn't be flirting with me if you were into women."
"I'm not flirting."
"That's okay. It’s not a sin. Even if you have a guy, which I'm taking as a yes."
She nodded. Barely. It could've been subconscious, or it could've been deliberate.
"Someone like you wouldn't be single," I said.
"Someone like me?"
"You don't need the answer to that. You know you're hot."
"I'm steaming hot in this little bucket," she said.
Good return. But she'd left me with a serve. "Then step outside. Get some breeze."
And she did.
Fuck me.
Long legs that disappeared under a skirt that should've been illegal in most offices.
Thighs that looked like she could out-squat half the guys at any gym.
Calves like she'd spent her youth in ballet.
And when my eyes tracked up… not subtle, not even trying…
she puffed her chest out. Her white top had a hint of pink bra underneath.
I was about to pray for rain and what it might do to that fabric when I spotted it.
"Fuck. Turn your engine off. Your car's overheating."
Steam curled from under the hood. She looked, then turned back to me with panic on her face.
"It's okay," I said. "Shut it down. By the time we move, it'll have cooled."
"No. If I turn it off when it's hot like this, sometimes it won't start again."
I glanced behind her at the truck. "It's all good. We can get a push if you need."
She reached in and turned the key. Then she stood staring at the front of the car while I checked out her butt.
Romy
I panicked when I saw the steam rising, but Rush didn't seem worried.
He was calm, like overheating engines were just another Friday for him.
I felt my shoulders drop a little. I couldn't say I'd have felt the same if Jeremy were here.
He'd have been googling mechanics and stressing about the cost while the car melted into the asphalt.
Speak of the devil.
My phone pinged from inside my bag. I leaned into the car and fished around for it, bent at the waist because the bag had slid to the far side of the passenger seat.
You know that feeling where you don't just think someone's looking at your ass… you know?
I knew.
I took my time standing back out. Stretched a little harder than I needed to. Felt my skirt ride up an inch. Maybe two.
Maybe Rush was right about the dirty girls.
Sex with Jeremy was like watching a documentary. So fucking predictable, and over before you realized you'd stopped paying attention. I was pretty sure Rush would be closer to a dark and dangerous romance. The kind with dog-eared pages and a cracked spine.
I turned the phone face up.
"Staying the weekend on the boat. Will try to snag a big bass for you."
No how are you. No miss you. Just fish.
I was shaking my head when Rush asked, "Your guy?"
"Not for much longer," I said.
It slipped out, but I couldn't take it back. And I didn't want to. I didn't want a fucking bass either. I wanted something else entirely to sink my teeth into, and it might just be standing right in front of me in a borrowed vest, and a grin that made my stomach flip.
Even if it was only for one night. Just long enough to feel like the woman I used to be.