Twice Upon a Roadtrip

by Shannon Stacey

  Somehow his mind had glossed over the senior center’s part in the bus tour. His mother wouldn’t be retiring anytime soon, but joining the center was a good way to make new friends with similar interests. His mother making new friends was good—Ethan spending days trapped on a bus with them was not so good.

  But she had signed them up for the senior center Spring Fling tour, and it was too late to do anything about it but have a good time and take very shallow breaths.

  She’d had his best interests at heart, of course. It would do him good to get away for a while, she had said. He needed to have some fun, she said. And since his ex-wife had run his business into the ground before running off with an undercover vice cop, he had nothing better to do.

  Pain arced across his temples and he leaned his head back. Closing his eyes again, he prayed this purgatory on wheels would get moving soon. Spending seven days in the company of his mother, her new friends and the nut from the grocery store was bad enough. He didn’t need Betty along for the ride as well, even in his thoughts.

  After six years of marriage, the bitch had cleaned out their personal accounts and his business account, then stuck a goodbye note to the fridge with his Garfield magnet. His appearances in divorce court and bankruptcy court were scheduled six hours apart and she married her overly macho—probably corrupt—vice cop the second the ink was dry.

  He was surprised he’d even been able to keep the car, which he’d left off at the auto body shop the previous day. Jill’s check for several hundred dollars had cashed and the man promised it would be as good as new when he returned. At least one thing was going right.

  The bus lurched under him and started to move away from the center at a crawl. He tried to block out the vacation planning and bingo reliving going on around him. If he could sleep for most of the bus ride, he just might survive.

  And then what? He had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Working every day, coming home to his wife and planning for the children he wanted to have had flown out the window when Betty left. Now he had to figure out how to fill the gaping hole she left behind.

  The concept of dating scared the hell out of him. He’d met Betty at college and, as the single friends of two couples, they’d naturally gravitated into a relationship. Dating before then had been very casual.

  Jill Delaney was the first woman to kick his pulse into high gear since the divorce. Sure, she was attractive and she probably had to be fairly smart to do her job—her former job. But if he had a type, she wouldn’t be it.

  The bus picked up speed as the driver merged into highway traffic. Ethan told himself to sleep, but images of the blonde across the aisle played across the backs of his eyelids like the screen of a seedy XXX theatre.

  If only he was a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. A few hours between the sheets with Jill Delaney would get her out of his system. Then he could move on without a backward glance.

  He sighed and shifted in his seat. It was going to be a long trip.

  * * * * *

  Jill adjusted the rock-hard pillow behind her neck, wishing she could sleep.

  The bus was dark enough now, but the cacophony of snores grated on her nerves. She had tried to read, only to turn off the tiny overhead light when the passenger lucky enough to nab the window seat grumbled.

  She had run out of things to distract her from the man sitting close enough to reach out and touch a long time ago.

  His restlessness had kept her on edge well into New Jersey. It annoyed her to no end that her nerves leapt to attention at his every movement, that her lungs seemed determined to breathe in rhythm with his.

  She would make a point of dating more often once she got home. Having her body strain toward Ethan Cooper like a dowsing rod pointed at the Pacific was wearing on her nerves.

  Part of it was his damned cologne or aftershave or soap—whatever the hell it was. Even over the all-you-can-smell buffet that was the bus, he smelled masculine and hot and just a little bit spicy. If she didn’t get away from him soon, she’d be straddling his lap and licking her way from his neck down. And she didn’t even like him. What the hell were her traitorous hormones thinking?

  Yes, she definitely needed to get out more. Or at least stock up on batteries. She’d need a little release by the time she escaped the scent across the aisle.

  When they had stopped for dinner just past Baltimore, the driver told them it would be a couple of hours yet before they reached their hotel. They would stop again in North Carolina, in deference to the age of the passengers and be in Orlando the following day. It certainly wasn’t a destination that had ever topped her wish list. Sure, when she was a little girl she dreamed of seeing Cinderella’s castle, but that had faded long ago. Now it was only a hot, crowded tourist attraction.

  Orlando? Where had all her money gone? The question that had filled her mind for days finally dragged her attention away from the rise and fall of Ethan Cooper’s chest.

  After working for seventeen years she should have had enough saved to live it up at Carnival in Rio de Janeiro or explore the Amazon Basin. Mardi Gras would be fun. Even white-water rafting in Colorado. Something more glamorous than the senior center’s Spring Fling tour.

  Although bamboo shoots ruining her manicure couldn’t make her admit it to Ethan, this was the only trip she could afford. And heaven only knew what she was going to do when the vacation was over. She had no job, no money and a pretty hefty car payment to boot.

  She shouldn’t have quit her job. It wasn’t the first time her pride had gotten her in trouble, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But it would be the first time she left herself in danger of being homeless.

  Her sister’s you’ll be sorry echoed in her mind like some kind of gloomy Ghost of Future Mistakes. Not too far in the future, though. She was already sorry.

  It was, contrary to the Delaney family’s opinion, a far different situation than when she’d left Poor Eddy at the altar several years before. Poor Eddy. She hated the way that had become his name in her family—almost one word.

  No doubt they thought breaking her engagement and quitting her job were both simply random acts of impulsiveness and wounded pride. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t anything as simple as pride that had made her leave Poor Eddy standing at the altar, no doubt checking his watch every thirty seconds.

  Liz thought her life was wonderful. She couldn’t see it the way Jill did. Her sister had given up everything for her husband and children, and she didn’t see the way they drained her of energy. They sucked the life right out of her like rabid vampire brats. Her dreams of being a photographer for National Geographic magazine were dust, and she worked at the portrait studio of the local department store.

  Jill didn’t want that. Standing in front of the mirror, gazing at herself in the pouffy, white wedding gown, she had panicked. Her life flashed before her eyes—childbirth, diapers, runny noses, ungrateful teenagers, gray hair—and she bailed.

  But that was different. This was pride, and she was going to have to swallow it to get her life back in order. There wasn’t much out there for jobs right now and she didn’t think dishing out fast food would allow her to keep both the apartment and the car. She’d rather go on that reality show that made contestants eat buffalo balls, but she had to beg for her job back. And the woman she had to grovel to was sleeping soundly two seats away.

  She glanced over at Ethan, knowing he was her biggest hurdle. No doubt he had a lot of influence on his mom, and if he’d related the disaster in the parking lot, she was toast. His head was back against the seat and his breathing was slow and soft. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not.

  “Hey,” she whispered. Nothing. He didn’t even stir.

  She told herself she’d be doing him a favor by waking him. Otherwise, he’d be awake all night in a motel room with the Weather Channel.

  “Hey,” she said again, a little louder. She reached across the aisle and nudged his arm.

 
; He opened his eyes and turned his head. His hair was a little tousled and he blinked slowly as he came fully awake. A sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  That’s how he’d look in the morning, after a night of lovemaking. She had to fight the urge to squirm in her seat when she imagined waking up to those dark chocolate eyes and that little secret smile.

  But he was fully awake now, and in the dim light, she could see he didn’t look very happy. In other words, he looked pretty much the same as the last two times she’d talked to him.

  “I’m sorry about the other day,” she said.

  “You woke me up to tell me that?”

  Way to go, Einstein. But she had to do this before she lost her nerve. “I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person. I was having a really horrible day when we met in the parking lot.”

  “I noticed. And you spread the joy well, too.”

  “I’m really sorry.”

  Ethan nodded and leaned his head back again. He closed his eyes, a sure sign he didn’t want to talk anymore. But Jill wasn’t done. She had to try.

  “Hey,” she whispered again.

  “What?” he said in a low growl.

  “Did you tell your mom I called her a bitch?”

  He tried to stifle a laugh and it came out a snort. He looked over at her again. In the darkness, she could see the gleam of his teeth as he smiled. “No, sunshine. She’s nervous enough about her new job without being insulted before she even starts.”

  Sunshine. The tongue-in-cheek comment didn’t rankle nearly as much as it had in the store parking lot. But the sarcasm was still there. “I had only found out an hour before I…ran into you. It was still pretty fresh. And it’s not like I knew her—or you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  So, he hadn’t told on her. That was a good thing. But he must know how his mother felt about having her children’s librarian quit out from under her. “She’s nervous?”

  “Yes,” he said in a clipped tone.

  Jill waited, but he had nothing else to say. Apparently, his moment of amusement was over. He wasn’t an easy man to talk to. She took a deep breath, determined to get it over with.

  “Do you think she’d take me back?” she whispered. Damn she hated begging, or anything remotely resembling it. “I really need that job.”

  He didn’t react the way she half-expected. Instead of derision or disbelief, he considered her question for a long moment. Please, please, please.

  “I don’t think so,” he finally replied, and her heart sank as she imagined how she would look in one of those cute visors with a fast food logo on the front. “She needs somebody dependable.”

  “Hey, I’m dependable,” she protested. Well, maybe not all the time. Not when it came to weddings or getting passed over for promotions. Or baby-sitting—how was she supposed to know her nephew’s favorite pastime was shoving things up his brother’s nose? Why would any child want to do that? Better yet, why on Earth would the other child let him?

  “As long as you get your way,” he said, and she heard the censure in his voice. “My mother doesn’t need to deal with somebody who throws a hissy fit and quits whenever she’s mad.”

  When the going gets tough, Jillian gets going…in the other direction. The joke was less funny every time her subconscious coughed it up. But maybe not as exaggerated as she thought. Still…a hissy fit?

  Turning away from Ethan and his scathing judgment of her, Jill cursed herself—again—for getting herself into this predicament. Leaping before looking was an old habit and she never knew how to climb back up. It was easier to walk away in a different direction. But not this time. She needed her job back and she had to get by Ethan to get to his mother.

  The bus shifted and she looked out the window. The driver was pulling off the highway onto a darkened exit ramp. The hotel where the group had reservations should still be a couple of hours up the road and she wondered why they were stopping.

  She glanced over at Ethan, but he didn’t appear to find anything amiss. He looked over at her and shook his head. “I’m not asking her, if that’s what you’re after.”

  “What?”

  “For your job back. I won’t ask my mother for you.”

  Jill sighed. “I didn’t really think you would. Why do you think he pulled off the highway?”

  He shrugged, apparently not too concerned about the unscheduled detour. Or if he was, he had no intention of sharing it with her. That wasn’t surprising. The man had probably never been frazzled or uncertain a day in his life. She hated people like that.

  The driver pulled into a run-down gas station and stopped. A bearded man walking to an old pickup veered toward the bus when it came to a halt. Straining, Jill could hear the two men talking.

  “We’re closed up, mister.”

  “I need some air in those back tires,” the driver argued. “I think I got a leak.”

  “Machine’s over there. You got quarters, then you got air. Gas pumps are shut down and I’m going home.”

  “Just the air.”

  The attendant walked back to his truck and drove off. There was a sign on the building pointing restroom seekers around back, and Jill grabbed her purse and stood up.

  “I’m need to use the bathroom while we’re here.”

  “There’s a bathroom at the back of the bus,” Ethan muttered without looking up.

  “No, there’s half a closet with an oversized tin can—one shared by about fifty geriatric digestive tracts. And I’d like to wash my face and pee without my knees up around my ears.”

  He almost smiled. Jill held her breath, but his lips only twitched ever so slightly.

  “It’s probably locked, and they’re closed,” he said.

  “Locked? In this place? I doubt it.”

  “You can’t go back there alone.”

  She waited, fairly confident he would do the right thing. When Ethan rolled his eyes and stood, Jill smiled. Chivalry might be dead, but it wasn’t buried.

  The he stretched and every erogenous zone in her body stood up and joined the chorus. She tried not to watch—masochism wasn’t her thing—but the sight of his muscles twisting and tensing under his T-shirt was too tantalizing to miss.

  When he twisted at the waist, a low growl of pleasure vibrating in his throat, Jill had to press her thighs together. A small ache settled in the small of her back and throbbed in time to her long-neglected pussy.

  His T-shirt pulled out of his jeans over one hip, revealing just a sliver of skin. She wanted to press her lips to that spot, to push the fabric up and away from the snap. She could practically hear the sound of his zipper.

  Before some appreciative sound could escape her lips, she turned and snatched her small purse off the seat. The only thing worse than lusting after this man would be having him know she was doing it.

  * * * * *

  Ethan followed Jill up the dark aisle. He paused on the bottom step and saw the bus driver engrossed in untangling the air hose.

  “We’re going to use the restrooms,” he called. The driver waved a hand in response without looking up.

  Away from the air-conditioned comfort of the bus, the warm and slightly humid night pressed in on him. It was a far cry from the spring chill they’d left behind in New Hampshire.

  But not anywhere near as sizzling as the look Jill had given him. He wasn’t so wrapped up in stretching he missed the interest—more like blatant lust—that flashed across her face before she turned away.

  And it wasn’t faked—he was sure of it. That was no “fuck the boss’s son to get the job back” move. She had practically devoured him with her gaze and, if her lust was an act, it deserved an Oscar.

  His heart rate was up and a fine sheen of sweat coated his flesh. The almost forgotten tingle of anticipation rippled through his nervous system. It had been a long time since a woman had wanted him—given him the look.

  Even Betty had shown a marked disinterest in him during the last year or
so of their marriage. More than likely she had already fallen into the pumped-up arms of her vice cop by then.

  Lingering humiliation added more heat to his already flushed skin and Ethan banged a mental U-turn. His frayed emotions could only handle one woman at a time. And as he followed Jill around the back of the gas station, every last inch of him was focused squarely on the gently swaying behind in front of him.

  Jill wore a pale pink T-shirt tucked into tight jeans, and Ethan let his gaze roam over her ass, down her legs then back up again. His blood was nearing the boiling point when she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. Her blue eyes watched him, questioning.

  He nearly boiled right over until he realized he had followed her right past the men’s bathroom to the door of the ladies’.

  “You’re not coming in with me,” she said.

  “Oh. Wasn’t paying attention, I guess.”

  He held her gaze captive with his own, trying to return the look. She only cocked an eyebrow at him and waited. Damn, I must be more out of practice then I thought.

  He turned and went back to the men’s restroom, locking himself in with a sigh of relief. Maybe Jill’s missing his signal was for the best.

  She wasn’t what he was looking for in a woman—he wasn’t even sure he was looking. The problems Betty had caused were still reverberating through his life and Jill reminded him a lot of her. Impulsive, temperamental…hot.

  Ethan leaned over the sink, careful not to actually touch the questionably-colored porcelain and turned on the cold tap. What he needed was an icy shower. Better yet, skip the shower. A tub of ice cubes might help if they didn’t melt the second he sat down.

  Almost without conscious thought, he released the snap of his jeans and tugged at the zipper. A quick adjustment of cloth and his aching cock was free. He sighed with relief, but it wasn’t enough. If he didn’t blow off some steam, he was going to explode before they reached Virginia.

  He closed his fingers around the length of his cock and he groaned with pleasure. It had been too damn long since he’d buried himself in a woman.

  He imagined Jill in the neighboring room, washing her face. Rushed, she would splash water on her shirt, soaking it until her nipples stood out against flimsy fabric. He ran his fingertips along the underside of his erection as he imagined sucking those nipples through wet, pink cotton and his whole body shuddered.