by Debra Kayn
She should be home, safe, spoiled, and worried about which boy to like when school started again. At least working at a mall with her friends instead of at a carnival.
The crowd in front of her booth moved on. The girl planted her hands on the counter and pulled herself up with one leap to stand and lower the piece of plywood, shutting the booth down for the night.
Battery sucked the last hit of nicotine out of his cigarette and tossed the butt in his path, stepping on it as he worked his way over the trampled field grass. He'd already made up his mind an hour ago that he'd talk to her, but when he talked, he wanted nobody else around.
Slipping between booths, he walked around to the back and waited for her to come out behind the plywood door flap. As if on cue, the partition opened, and her tight ass led the way out. He took a closer look at the tanned legs and whistled on an exhale.
Her head came around at the noise; then her body followed. "Hey," she said.
She hoisted her cash box higher up under her breasts. He dragged his gaze up to fresh, innocent green eyes that showed neither fear or curiosity.
"How old are you, girl?" he asked, needing to verify he had the right girl even though he knew deep in his gut it could only be Bree.
"Whoa..." She laughed openly and honestly. "You're going to jump right into the age question without asking my name or what I'm doing once the carnival turns out their lights? What kind of pickup line is that?"
"Answer the question or don't. That's your right." He took out another cigarette and lit the end. She'd jumped right into flirting with him and at thirty-seven years old, he was old enough to be her father.
Her full lips puckered and she stared at the smoke coming out of his mouth. He recognized the longing and couldn't help leaving the cigarette between his lips to tease her.
She stepped closer, clutching the small, metal box with her earnings for the day in her arms. "You got a smoke I can bum?"
"Depends on how old you are," he said.
Her gaze narrowed. "I'm eighteen."
"Try again." He exhaled, blowing smoke her way.
Her eyes rolled, and she inhaled the smoke coming from him like a junkie. "I'm telling you the truth. I turned eighteen two weeks ago on July seventh."
Instead of giving her a new cigarette, he removed the one from between his lips and stepped toward her. She opened her mouth, and he his chest tightened and ached at how innocent she was to open her mouth around him.
She latched on to the filter with her full lips and mumbled, "Thanks."
She inhaled, blew, and her shoulders relaxed. Talented kid, she kept the cigarette in her mouth the whole time without lifting two fingers, so as not to give it back.
"God, that's good," she muttered, lipping the cigarette back in place.
He looked away from her when half the lights went out, and the area behind the booths went pitch black.
"I've got fifteen minutes to turn in the money or security will come looking for me." She shifted the box to her hip and took the cigarette out of her mouth and held it between her thumb and finger as if she was smoking a joint instead of a cigarette. "What's your name?"
"Battery," he said.
Unable to see her expression, he let her enjoy the rest of his cigarette.
"I'm Bree." She exhaled loudly, sending a thin stream of smoke above her head. "Are you with a biker gang or something?"
"Or something." If he were going to get out of here, he'd need to move before the gate locked for the night. "Considering you're not eighteen, what are you doing working for the carnival?"
"Are you a labor inspector or some—?"
"I ain't anything, but Battery." He squinted making out the slim nose on her face. "Who's in charge of you?"
She laughed. "You sound like one of those people who go around asking questions trying to pin down illegals. But, looking like you look all dressed in black and your beard hiding your face which makes you pretty scary looking, I guess not. Anyway, to answer your question, I'm on my own and staying with the woman who runs the concessions stand. Her name's Delilah or that's what she calls herself. She's the owner's cousin, so she thinks she's the shit around here."
"Parents?"
"Dead." She tossed the cigarette, chased it for two feet, and stepped on the butt. "Has anyone ever told you that you're nosy?"
"No one would dare." He glanced down at her. "What about your family?"
She squinted at him and her nose wrinkled. "Just told you, I have none. I grew up in foster care and left when I was fifteen. Don't have any use for parents because I take care of myself."
Fucking Christ. The years got away from him. "You're fifteen?"
"Sixteen." Her eyes rounded, and he'd caught her. She groaned and reached out and shoved his arm, realizing her mistake. "I hate you."
"Well, you'll learn to like me and tell me the truth when I ask you a question." He motioned her to walk. "Go turn in your cash before you get in trouble."
"They won't do anything but escort me to the office, and Bill has a tendency to yell until someone else grabs his attention." Her voice dropped an octave. "I'm their best seller this week and with our busiest days coming up, they'll want to make me happy. I even make more than their strong man show, but I keep telling them that everyone, even kids nowadays, knows the weights and props are bogus. I can lift them with one hand, and I'm a wimp compared to men."
"Is that so?" He started heading toward the main entrance to get her moving.
"Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't want to be a man." She walked at his side, slightly behind him. He let her have the time to get used to seeing him, and next time he came by she'd be more receptive.
"You're a pretty girl, Bree." He glanced at her. "I'm glad you're not a man, too."
She hurried to keep up with his longer strides. "Are you a wobbly?"
"A what?" he said.
"You know, hanging around trying to get hired on with the carnival."
He shook his head.
She skipped to keep up with him. "Do you know someone here or are you trying to get into the backyard where all the carnies stay to go to the party later?"
"Nope." He stopped within fifty feet of the concession stand. "Do me a favor and do what you need to do and get back to the trailer you're staying in."
"Why?"
"Cause it's a dangerous place for a sixteen-year-old girl," he said. "Someone needs to take care of you."
"What's your deal?" She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. "If you're not part of the carnival, and you're not here to party, what do you want from me?"
"Tonight, I want you to go to bed and get some sleep."
Her hip came out, and she shifted the box again to her side. "What kind of pervert tells me to go to sleep?"
"The kind you should listen to and do what he says because he cares." He pointed away from him. "Get going."
With the light coming from the main booth, she studied him closely. He leaned toward her lowering his brows and letting her get a good look at his face. She rolled her eyes, and he almost smiled at the bravery she displayed by standing up to him.
"Whatever. It's not like I didn't notice you watching me for the last hour or so. You've got some real hang-ups, dude. I know a creeper when I see one." She walked away and damned if her little ass didn't mock him, swaying side by side.
With that attitude she gave him, he made his decision. He'd send the other members of Ronacks Motorcycle Club back to Montana, and he'd stay at the motel in town a little longer. He wasn't quite satisfied with her living with a carnival, and she wasn't old enough to be on her own.
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