7. Dragon
Chapter Seven
DRAGON
Iwoke up with a lurch, panic mixing with dread. I was hungover, so I’d probably done something I’d regret. I flinched as I remembered the golf course. Letting the pretty blonde boy hot-wire a golf cart. And then the sambucas that caught my dress on fire. And then Pansy…
I sat up and threw back the blankets, leaping to my feet to stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I looked like an exorcist. No, the girl who was possessed.
I hated that movie. Made no sense, but my brothers still made me watch it with them.
No, the real horror was that I’d kissed Horse.
No, he’d kissed me after I pinned him against the steel wall.
Right. And then I kissed him after he pulled away, not like he could really go anywhere since I still forced him against the wall.
My hungover personality wasn’t very subtle, and I’d wanted him since the first time I saw him falling out of a helicopter.
So much for consent. Not that he’d struggled.
Actually, he’d kissed me, so why did he stop?
I groaned and threw myself back on the bed. My life at Providence was over. Also Las Vegas. The next time I saw him, the smirk would kill me. Why couldn’t I leave it at kneeing him? No, I had to grab his shirt and then…
I had a visceral memory of his hands on me, so strong and capable, like his skin belonged against mine.
And his mouth. How was he so strong and soft at the same time?
The remains of my dress on the floor made me shudder.
I’d worn that in public? There wasn’t enough shame in the world. And the pole dancing.
It was over. My whole life here was done.
Ended. Forever. Maybe I could kill Horse before he smirked at me like he knew exactly how much I liked him man-handling me.
And how much I’d manhandled him. And I’d stolen his bike.
What an idiotic thing to do. That was flirting!
That meant I’d have to see him again to return it.
Although he lived in this hotel. I could just leave it there. Pretend nothing happened.
But it had happened, and from now on, every time I saw him, I’d know exactly how he tasted and felt, and how good he was at making everything else disappear.
Alcohol wasn’t nearly as good as Horse at wiping away the rest of the world.
Drowning in Horse would be so much more effective than drowning in alcohol.
Except that the hangover of shame would be endless.
Who cared about shame when you were indulging in an addiction? Horse could be my addiction. So easily.
No, he couldn’t. He was a person, not something to use to forget about my own insecurities and failings.
He’d kissed me like he wanted me. I’d never felt so completely desirable, and I’d looked like this.
I headed to the bathroom to scrub all the crap off my face. I scowled at my reflection. She looked so normal once I’d gotten all the crap off. More tired than usual, with sad, sad, dark circles under her eyes, but not like she’d betrayed herself to her soul.
I pulled back my shoulders and straightened up. What’s done was done. Yes, I’d shoved Horse against the wall, let him kiss me, and then kissed him back, but it was part of my bender. Not that I’d been drunk, but I was categorizing it as one of the many monumental mistakes I’d made that night.
And this morning—because the elevator was definitely in the morning—I’d done the unthinkable, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Enough of that. He was going to smirk and say something impossible, but how was that different from the usual?
Other than that I was one of the idiots who’d fallen for him?
I was as human as anyone else. I was entitled to make mistakes.
I’d go down to the lobby and get the first encounter over with. Rip it off like a bandage.
My stomach rebelled at the thought, but that was probably the sambucas talking.
I showered, pulled on a coverall that felt like armor, and headed to the elevator. I stepped in with a nice couple who stared at me like they’d never seen such a dragon. Was I scowling? I forced a smile.
“Welcome to Las Vegas,” I said, because they were clearly tourists.
They just stared at me and then scampered off the second the doors opened. I took slightly more time, almost getting slammed in the door because I waited until the last second to emerge.
I scanned the lobby from right to left. No Horse.
No smirk. I could have gone to the garage, taken the bike to the shop and given it the promised tune-up, but I was emotionally prepared to deal with the smirk now.
I didn’t want him sneaking up on me while I had a weapon in my hand.
Like a burrito. I’d kill him with a burrito if I wasn’t careful.
Breakfast. He was probably eating breakfast. I didn’t want to see his mouth doing anything, particularly devouring his eggs Benedict like he’d devoured me. But it was better to get things back to normal as soon as possible.
He wasn’t in Judgment, Purgatory, or Paradise. I grabbed one of their fabulous frothy breakfast shakes. Paradise specialized in exotic desserts, but the shake the clerk handed over the marble and gilt-flecked counter was suspiciously green.
“Didn’t I order the…”
“This is better,” she said, batting her lashes. “After last night, you need to detox, right?” She batted her lashes some more. It was starting to feel weird. I must have done something that got caught on film with Blondie. Embarrassing.
“Sure.” I took the drink that tasted better than it looked, even if it wasn’t the strawberry throthy I’d wanted.
I checked my messages while I walked through the lobby towards the garage, sipping my smoothie. I’d taken a photo of the passed-out blonde’s license before I ran out of that room and into Horse’s elevator. And mouth.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the feel of Horse’s hands on me. I’d liked that way too much to be healthy. I squinted at the screen and read the blonde’s birth date. Twenty-two?!
I stopped walking while my stomach roiled.
I’d slept with a baby?! I really had to stop doing this.
One of these days he’d be some seventeen-year-old.
I shuddered at the thought. Absolutely not.
No. He’d been drinking. That meant twenty-one.
Right. I needed to only frequent places where they strictly carded people.
I was almost a decade older than that fresh-faced baby.
I hadn’t been thinking. I’d been feeling. Or trying not to feel. This had to stop. Somehow.
When I got to the garage, there was Pansy, as pretty as could be. She didn’t need a tune-up. I hadn’t done anything too crazy with her. As far as I could remember. I definitely shouldn’t have driven drunk. Stupid.
I took a steady breath and climbed on the bike. I’d make the bike so sweet, Horse would forget all about me stealing it. And him stealing his kiss. And then me stealing it back. By kissing him. Which made no sense. At least mutual oppression was like consent, right?
Work was quiet. Of course it was. Most everyone was gone for the weekend after that last little race. During the off-season, we did a few events, but nothing big. Mostly just promo for the coming fall.
I fell into the rhythm of work, exploring the pieces of the machine like some people explored painting or music.
I was lost in the zone of a beautiful creature like Pansy.
Horse had done some incredible things with the input, and while that made the starter a tiny bit finicky, it was probably worth it for the increased thrust.
I didn’t do anything fancy with her, just changed the oil, tightened all the bolts and nuts, and forgot about my mistakes. Pansy felt almost as good as Horse.
When dinner rolled around, Ron called me from the front gate. “Food place brought a delivery for Jezebel. They won’t take it back or change the address. Do you want it?”
“What is it?”
“Looks like salad. You need to eat clean, right?”
My skin prickled. That’s the second time someone mentioned me needing to detox. “Was there good video?”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably while I tightened my grip on my wrench.
“I wouldn’t call it good,” he said slowly. “Anyway, I’ll bring it over.”
I hung up and then hesitated before I searched ‘Dragon of Las Vegas’. Oh look, there I was in an elevator, kneeing Horse before I shoved him against the wall and kissed him. That looked like assault. Because it was an assault. So that’s where my reputation was. Good to know.
I groaned and put my head in my hands. That’s why Horse stopped kissing me, because the bell dinged and he didn’t want anyone to get video of him kissing me. That was sensible considering how photogenic he was, and how little anyone respected our privacy. But I’d just… assaulted him.
I opened my phone and called Donny, a friend of mine who did worldwide off-road. I could use some distance from this scene. A lot of distance.
“Trixie. What’s the news? I mean, other than that you finally rode that Horse.”
If even Donny saw the video, there was nowhere to hide. I took a deep breath and accepted the inevitable. I couldn’t go far enough to run away from my reputation.
I said, “Just called to congratulate you on your big win last weekend. Tough race. Looks like you’re ready for the Dakar challenge.”
“Yeah, well, it stressed my shocks. I maybe pushed that race too close to the next one. I could use another mechanic, and another driver if you’re taking a break from Vegas for some reason we won’t call Horse.”
I snorted. “Yeah, clearly that would be effective. He usually runs the Dakar in some experimental piece that breaks down halfway. He has no pride.”
“That’s because you kneed it out of him.”
“I’m hanging up now.” I clicked off and then Ron came with the enormous salad that I ate like I was devouring the head of whoever had posted that video absolutely everywhere.
I’d looked like a psycho. I’d acted like a psycho.
At least this would keep nice guys like Dr. Williams from offering to take me to dinner.