Chapter Nine
Addison
Okay, I just gave my stalker a blow job as a thank you for saving me. No big deal. I've done shadier things in dive bar bathrooms.
Yeah, but those guys didn't have dicks that couldn't fully fit in my mouth, that little voice reminds me.
God! Why am I still thinking about this two hours later?
Yes, Rowan is gifted, but it’s wasted on a shit host. Since our little mishap, we’ve both been quiet.
I’ve stuck to my resolve of icing him out while I try to process the fact that we’re being followed and the man beside me could potentially be in the mob.
He said he wasn't, but I don't believe him.
What other outcome could explain this? I mean, it is a little far-fetched, but I can't think of another explanation.
Loxley isn't being helpful either. She means well, but as I stare at our messages, I only find myself growing more agitated with all of the secrecy.
Loxley: I know this is bothering you, but I promise that once you’re back, I’ll explain everything. Focus on the trip. Get Rowan talking.
Me: I would rather eat a nail gun.
Loxley: Har har. Stop being dramatic. He’s a good guy.
I beg to fucking differ.
A good guy who made me suck his huge cock for information.
He’s stellar!
I shift in my seat for the umpteenth time, ignoring my screaming bladder unless I want to risk speaking to the silent brick wall beside me.
He notices, naturally. “What’s wrong?”
Sarcasm bubbles in my throat. “Oh, I don't know. I’m definitely not seated beside the man who made me suck his dick for nothing.”
“Again with this,” he mutters. “You could have said no, but you're too fucking stubborn for that.”
I whip around to him, pointing a finger to my chest. “Me? Coming from the man who’s locked up tighter than Pandora’s box!”
His jaw works in that effortlessly sexy way that makes him seem all rugged and on edge.
I hate that I notice every little thing about him.
The way he smells like the outdoors, the bulging muscles that seem to stretch his clothes to capacity, the long crooked nose that juts proudly from his face, and that nasty mouth that made me so wet I came with record timing on his fingers.
It’s so annoying.
What’s even more annoying is my body’s response to him.
The tingling beneath my skin any time he reaches across the console, as if we’re two magnets drawn together, doesn't go unnoticed.
The way I find myself closing my eyes as I inhale his scent that seems to overpower mine and comfort me all in the same breath.
And the slickness between my thighs anytime I think about his fingers stretching me.
It’s just been a while since I had sex.
That's all.
“Addison,” Rowan scolds. “If something is wrong—”
“I have to pee,” I offer quietly. “And I’m hungry.”
I can't ignore the way his shoulders loosen as he nods. “I’ll take the next exit, but we need to be quick.”
I don't answer him as he turns off the freeway. He pulls into one of those massive gas stations that could double as a supermarket, and I nearly snort at the ridiculous image of the station’s mascot plastered over the huge sign hanging over the swing doors.
It’s a brightly colored cartoon rooster with the word ‘Cluckers’ printed under it.
The experience is made even better when some sorry sap dressed in a rooster costume comes out of the store, lights a cigarette, and props himself against the stone wall.
His hand comically dips past the wide beak of the costume’s headpiece as he takes a drag.
Patrons don't seem to mind him as truckers and families enter the store.
“This is what nightmares are made of,” I smile, climbing out of the truck.
“We need to be quick. In and out.” Rowan instructs as he cuts the truck and follows after me.
The life of the party.
“Oh, wait!” I call, turning back towards the truck. “I forgot my purse.”
Rowan grabs my bicep, stopping me. “You don't need it. I’ll pay.”
I yank my arm out of his grip. “I don't need a man to pay for me. You paid for my breakfast, which I gracefully vomited up. I’ll handle this.”
He steps back, holding his hands up. “Okay, Passenger Princess. Good luck getting in the truck without the keys.”
My mouth falls open as my eyes narrow. “Did you just call me a passenger princess?”
He crosses those bulging arms, looking smug. “I did. What are you going to do about it?”
I release a growl of frustration. “Unlock the damn truck!”
“No.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Fine! You’re paying, dick.”
“I am,” he agrees, and I want to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face as I storm past him. An idea brews as he reaches around me and opens the door.
“Thanks,” I spat, stomping off in the direction of the bathrooms. The inside of the store is just as overwhelming as the outside, with high shelves lined with snacks, souvenirs, and t-shirts.
There’s a deli along the back wall where a line of people wait for their orders, about five or six employees stationed behind registers ringing up patrons’ purchases, and tuckers everywhere, browsing the aisles and getting their lunches before they get back on the road.
I spot the bathroom sign to the far right and maneuver through the crowd.
I can feel Rowan at my back, but I don't give him the satisfaction of turning around to look for him as I pass a mother struggling to handle her two kids.
She has a wailing baby in her arms as a toddler throws a tantrum at her feet.
Her long, dark hair is tied into a knotted mess atop her head, and she has dark circles under her eyes, as if she hasn't slept in days. She pleads quietly for the toddler to listen, but he’s in full meltdown mode.
I glance around, hoping to notice anyone who may be with this family, but judging by the people ignoring her, I think she's alone in this. My chest pinches, and before I know it, I’m walking down the aisle rather than heading for the bathroom.
“Hey,” I greet meekly. “Do you need some help?”
The mother does a double-take, her mouth moving, but no sound coming out as the baby in her arms cries louder.
She coos softly at the infant, bouncing her as she rocks back and forth. “She’s hungry, but I have my hands full.” She laughs weakly, shaking her head. “I just needed to grab some water and chips.”
“What kind?” Rowan asks from behind me, and I nearly jump at how close he sounds to me.
The mother tilts her chin toward the display. “Those.”
He grabs a bag. “I’ll find the water. Get them to the register.” He’s gone in the blink of an eye, lumbering off to the coolers.
“Well,” I smile. “You heard him. Let’s go.”
The toddler on the ground only screams louder, slapping his hands on the dirty floor as his chubby cheeks turn a bright shade of red.
“I’m so sorry,” the mom apologizes as she attempts to pick him up. “We’ve been in the car for hours, and their dad is on a business trip. I’m traveling to my parents’ house for the extra help.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I reassure her as I squat down to the little boy’s level. “Do you mind if I try something?”
She shakes her head. “Anything is better than nothing.”
Nothing like a little trauma to get the blood flowing.
“Hey!” I wave to get his attention. The little boy’s deep brown eyes shift to me. “If you don't want to go home with me, you'd better get off the floor. I’ll toss you right in my truck.”
His eyes widen before he scrambles up and races to his mom. She picks him up, and he tucks his head into her neck tightly.
“Thank you,” she smiles.
“It’s no trouble,” I say as we walk over to the register. Rowan helps her ring her items up before we send them on their way.
“You have a good heart,” he comments softly as we watch her load her kids into her car.
“Yeah, yeah,” I smile absently. “Don’t expect it too often. I’m going to the bathroom before you blow your top.”
He shakes his head, but I see the corners of his mouth lift as he waits for me. I still fully plan to enact my revenge on him, but moments like this make it really hard to hate him.
I stop in the entrance of the bathroom, blinking as I’m struck by the realization that I don't actually hate Rowan. His company is nice when he isn't being an asshole. I still don't forgive him for the blow job thing, but I could have said no at any point, and he would have stopped.
I decided to keep going…
“Excuse me?” A voice calls from behind me. I startle before moving out of a lady’s way.
“Fuck,” I curse before using the restroom and washing my hands. My mind reels, and I splash water on my face to banish the thoughts before I face him again. “Just have to get through this trip.” I try to reason with myself as I dry my hands.
I take a deep breath, my plan circling again as I walk back out into the main area of the gas station. Rowan is across from me, observing a row of tacky-looking shot glasses before he notices me.
“Get what you need so we can leave,” he says pointedly. He’s back to business as he towers over me with that stoic expression he wears like a mask.
He’s making my plan really easy.
I shrug. “Okay.”
I walk down an aisle with t-shirts first, the weight of Rowan’s stare on my back as I peruse the merchandise. When I get to the shirt I spotted on my way to the bathroom, I stop and shuffle through the sizes.
“What are you?” I ask. “A size double-extra-large?”
He runs a hand over his mouth, looking annoyed. “I don't need a shirt, Addison.”
I only stare at him, scrutinizing his size before nodding. “Double-extra-large it is.” I grab the shirt, unfold it, and hold it up to him, grinning triumphantly.
It has the ridiculous cartoon rooster on it with the phrase, ‘I stroked the cock at Cluckers,’ in massive block letters below.
He crosses his arms, pinning me with a hard stare. “I’m not wearing that.”
My brows lift as I rock back on my heels. “Okay, then. It would be a shame if I found the nearest trusted adult and told them a tall man with tattoos touched me inappropriately in the parking lot.”