My heart dropped ten inches. Oh, please. Let him have remembered to grab my makeup. I rifled through the disorderly pile of garments. Then threw everything on top of the bed. No cosmetic bag. No beauty products. No mascara. No lipstick.
On a normal day, I might have thrown a nuclear tizzy. I mean, seriously. Who met the girlfriend of the man they’d been hoping to bang with no makeup and off-the-rack clothing? Not Aida Voltolini.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Good thing I was no longer Aida Voltolini, heir of the East Coast’s largest crime syndicate. I was Aida Suarez. Soon-to-be single mom.
I could handle anything.
I tiptoed across the hall. Every step caused the weathered hardwood to creak in protest. The bathroom was small and quaint, painted white. The only color in the room came from the floral accents in the shower curtain and on the framed wall art, also floral. Pedestal sink. Toilet. Cast iron, clawfoot tub. Clean pink towels had been set on the toilet lid. On top, sat a lady’s razor and a small bar of jasmine scented soap shaped like a flower.
I showered efficiently, towel dried, then finger brushed my hair. As I crossed the hall, my blood ran cold at the sound coming from Tucker’s bedroom. Grunting, and a faint squeak mixed with a disgusting sloshing sound. I stepped closer to the door, heart racing, cringing at the thought of what could make a noise so off-putting. My first and only conclusion? Dirty, hardcore, haven’t-seen-you-in-ages fucking.
Tucker’s girlfriend must have come over early. Probably thought he had time for a quickie while I was in the shower. My cheeks heated, my fists clenched, and I reached for knives that weren’t on my wrists.
I wanted to catch him in the act. I wanted to ruin their moment. I wanted to be the one underneath him.
Dammit.
No I didn’t.
Tucker was not my type.
I considered my baby, for a moment, before the rage took over, and I threw the door open with a loud bang.
A black-haired beast stood bedside with puppy dog eyes and a giant cock in her mouth.
“Ohmygodohmygod. Nonononono!”
“Oh my God, Mom. No. No. No. No. No.” I waved my hand in front of her. “I mean, yes. She’s gorgeous. And funny. But she can’t wait to get back to New York and far away from—”
Thunder rolled through the house—in the shape of my one hundred and ten pound Rottweiler named Lola—with an electric pink hunk of latex hanging from her mouth. Following behind, a string of profanities rising from the most beautiful, hot-blooded, pregnant woman I’d ever laid eyes on.
“No! Come back here,” Aida yelled as Lola rumbled through the kitchen and toward the mud room. “Drop it. Give that back, you shit.” She skidded around the kitchen island, her socks slipping and sliding on the tile.
Using the counter for purchase, she paused, only long enough to shoot death lasers my way and find her footing before following a very happy dog out of the kitchen.
“Was that? Oh dear Lord.” Mom slapped one hand over her mouth and one on my shoulder. “Tucker, go help her.”
A crash. Cuss words, some in Italian, I think. A thud.
I ran toward the commotion and found Aida on her ass in the laundry room engaging in a game of tug-o-war with my dog. Aida held the head of her brand-new vibrator in both hands. Lola held the other end in her vice like jaws. With a playful growl and hearty head shake, Lola wiggled the toy free of Aida’s grip and disappeared around the corner.
Aida leaned back on her arms, chest heaving, eyes narrowed. “This is not happening. This is not fucking happening.” She tried to stand, but her belly got in the way.
Slapping my offered hand away, Aida rolled to her side and pushed to her feet.
I heard Mom gasp from the kitchen, then command Lola to release. Her laughter set me over the edge, and I lost my composure.
“Oh, it’s happening,” I bellowed, wiping tears from my eyes.
“What’s all the racket?” Dad bellowed.
Mom mumbled something inaudible, and Dad joined in on the chuckling.
Aida’s doe eyes met mine, wet, fiery, and proud. Raising her chin, she turned on her heels. “I’m a queen, dammit.” She tossed wet hair over her shoulder and headed toward the kitchen.
Dad turned his back when we entered, shoulders bobbing. Mom held the vibrator in her hand, cheeks red, lips pursed. “Lose something?”
I had to give my mother credit. She managed a straight face as Aida snatched the now-useless dildo away from her and tossed it in the trash.
“They sure don’t make them like they used to,” Mom said, pulling Aida in for a hug. “You hungry?”
I watched Aida stiffen, then relax against my mother. They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, and soon, Aida was laughing, too.
Sweet Lord, that laugh. Travelled from my ears straight to my chest, tightening the loose parts, loosening the tight.
Damn.
I struggled through our morning meal, watching Aida interact with my parents, fighting the itch to pull her close, absorb her heat, keep a respectful distance when all I could think about was how soft and pliant her body became when tucked against mine.
It didn’t matter that she ignored me through most of the meal. Aida was a proud woman. I’d dragged her away from her comfort zone, in the middle of the night, with zero say in the matter, yet she exuded charm and grace with my parents.
And if she never spoke a word to me again, I had the sound of her laughter to hold on to, and that was enough to carry me through a lifetime.
So, when she turned to me, finally, and asked, “Who in the world keeps a black bear for a pet?” she may as well have offered me the world.
“Lola?” I asked, almost choking on my bacon. “She’s no bear.”
“She’s as big as a bear,” Aida retorted, shooting her pert little nose in the air.
God damn she was beautiful.
“You ever seen a bear up close?” I challenged.
She quickly countered with a glare and a, “Yes. I just wrestled one.”
“You just wrestled a teddy bear.” I pointed my fork her direction. “Teddy bears who lick you to death don’t count.”
Lola must’ve heard her name, because sure enough, she trotted around the corner, butt wiggling frantically. She pushed her snout right into Aida’s lap, sniffed, then settled her head between the baby bump and the table, offering herself for a pat.
“A teddy bear with no table manners,” Aida cooed, scratching Lola behind the ear.
Fire. Desire. Contentment. I was full.
Aida, with her mask off, her shields down, baby-talking to my dog.
I wanted this. I wanted her. I wanted what I couldn’t have.
Because when I took what I desired, I gave everything. My everything wouldn’t be enough for Aida. She would leave too soon. Leaving me empty.
Aida had been right. She was a queen. My queen.
I was royally fucked.
After Aida offered to help Mom clean the breakfast mess, I excused myself, eager to get away from unrequited emotions, and reacquainted with Frankie, the only girl who would never break me.
Tucker was trying to break me.
Had he not figured out that I was made of steel?
After one morning with his family, any normal girl would crack, as I was sure he had planned. Probably to soften the blow of his girlfriend situation. And I could see the appeal.
Love. Laughter. A gentle, caring family.
Who wouldn’t want a lifetime of that?
Me, that’s who. Because instead of family, I had an empire.
Although, now that I’d had a taste of small-town Americana, my life back home had lost its luster. Money. Power. Respect. I had those things and more, but they left me wanting. Longing for Tucker’s sweet, laid back version of normal.
I wanted him.
Well, the him who didn’t cheat on his girlfriend, anyway.
Damn. I’d have to meet his girlfriend soon. And play nice. Aida Voltolini didn’t pl
ay nice. Lucky for Tucker, I adored his parents. I kind of liked his dog, too. Payback could wait until we returned to Whisper Springs, and oh, was he going to pay.
After helping Leticia with the dishes, she offered a tour of the property. Lola followed us across the lawn, bumping my thigh every so often, always watching me with playful, wise eyes.
“Lola is always wary around strangers. Very protective of the family. I’m surprised she took to you so fast.” Lettie bent to scruff Lola’s face before planting a kiss on her nose. “Dogs are the best judges of character, you know.”
Tucker’s mother was surprisingly petite, considering the size of her son. We were close to the same height, her being a pinch shorter than me. Her graying hair was pulled back in a low pony, and her silvery eyes sparkled against her smooth, flawless skin.
“I wouldn’t know. My father never let me have pets.”
We walked toward the rear of the house, across the back lawn, and through a weathered, wooden gate. The field, overgrown with tall grass, stretched forever toward the backdrop of the vast blue sky and mountain ranges.
“Was this a ranch?” I asked, admiring the way Lettie’s silver hair caught the light.
“At one time, yes. Cattle. Way before we bought the property.”
“It’s beautiful here. The air feels different. My hair, my skin. Everything feels different.” My soul, too, I left unsaid. Maybe it was the crisp, fresh air, or maybe it was the quiet peacefulness surrounding me. I suspected, much to my surprise, that it was the people, rather than the elements, lifting my spirits. A calm, airy light seeped into my bones and filled the dark, hollow places.
If James and Lettie knew what I was capable of, what my future held, would they welcome me with the same trusting, wide-open arms?
Lettie’s phone rang, and she retrieved it from the pocket of her wool coat. “Dr. Slade speaking. Hi, sweetie. How far apart? Oh my. Looks like we’re having a baby today. Yep. On my way. See you soon.” She tucked her phone away and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry to cut our tour short. Got a baby to welcome into the world. Tucker is in the barn warming up Frankie. I know he’s excited for you to meet her. Do you mind telling him goodbye for me?”
Nodding yes, I pulled my cardigan tighter around my body and studied the large, red structure up ahead. She was in there. The woman who had Tucker’s heart. A wave of nausea crashed through me, jealousy and trepidation leading the charge.
Shooing Lettie off with a forced smile, I choked down the bile, alongside my violent urges. I can do this. I’d faced deadlier adversaries. I’d argued weapons and self-defense over lunches with drug lords. I’d fought off angry strippers, comforted jilted porn stars, and had successfully managed Dad’s high-maintenance prostitutes. One harmless girlfriend was nothing. I was Aida Voltolini, mob princess. I can fucking do this.
“Okay, little one.” I rubbed my stomach. “No knives. I’ll kill her with kindness.” With Lola by my side, I marched toward the barn, the loud boom between my ears matching each step.
Like ripping off a bandage, I would go in, introduce myself, pretend I didn’t want to murder the bitch, then find a place to hide in the house where I could read a book, or learn to knit, or find some other normal-people-shit to keep me busy.
I reached the door, pausing to catch my breath. The barn had been farther away than it looked. Lola’s wet nose tickled my fingers before she offered a reassuring lick.
Music played. A song I didn’t recognize. A man with a raspy tenor singing about lovers named Frankie and Johnny, and hearts awaiting dreams. I reached for the handle and stopped when Tucker’s voice paired with the lyrics. Beautiful. Rich. Deep. Passion and tenderness stitching the lyrics into a beautiful tapestry.
He was singing to her.
Never had a man sung to me. Not once. Not even my father.
Oh God, I can’t do this. Hot liquid burned my eyes. My fingers trembled. My soul ached.
Why did it hurt?
I was the woman who broke hearts. My heart was cast iron wrapped in adamantium. Un-fucking-destructible.
“Like a bandage,” I whispered before yanking open the door, blinking moisture from my eyes, and forcing my lips to spread and not purse. “Hey, Tuck.”
Wearing ripped and dirty jeans, thick-soled boots, and a button-up, red flannel, Tucker sat in the cab of a shiny, gigantic, semi-tractor, with the door wide open. The brilliant blue and polished-chrome beast was beautiful.
Leaning back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head, Tucker sang along to the soulful lyrics. He hadn’t heard me come in.
I glanced around the massive barn. The place was clean—one large open space. Tools hung neatly organized on the far wall. Rolled hoses hung above stacks of tires along the back wall. The large, sliding barn doors were closed, allowing only a crack of light through. No sign of a girlfriend anywhere.
I stepped closer, smiling at the emotion backing Tucker’s vocals. Warming at the peaceful set of his face.
Tucker hit an impossibly high note and rolled his head my way. When he caught sight of me, he jumped up and reached forward to end the music.
The space seemed emptier, somehow, without the haunting melody. Until he climbed down from his high perch and strode my way, filling all that empty with his larger than life confidence.
“Aida,” he said, voice breathy, eyes molten.
Warm, strong arms reached for me, and oh, sweet Papa, how I wanted to fall into them. Instead, I steeled my spine and took a step back.
“Where is she?” I would not cry. I would not murder or maim. “Where’s your girlfriend? I’m excited to meet her.”
My lip quivered at the lie, and I turned my head to hide the shameful display of weakness.
In a shameful display of weakness, I lunged forward, halting her retreat, and claimed those thick, full lips, parting them with my tongue, delving deep, quenching a voracious thirst.
I held her close, one hand at the base of her skull, the other at the curve of her spine, fingers stretching toward that sweet, full ass. Aida would not leave this barn without knowing and feeling with one hundred percent certainty, how deeply I wanted her.
Her hard, round stomach pressed between us, and I couldn’t hold back a moan. Fucking hell, there was nothing sexier than a woman with child.
Aida broke the kiss, frantically searching my eyes, hands trembling against my chest. Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head, slowly, disbelieving. “Why would you do that? How can you be so cruel?”
“Cruel?”
“How dare you kiss me like that, like you want me, like I’m special. You are the last person I’d have expected to be a cheating bastard.”
Shit. I couldn’t torture her a second longer. “Bambi.” I stepped behind her, gripped her shoulders, and turned her toward my ride. “Meet Frankie.”
Her chest rose on a deep inhale. One. Two. Three times. “Your truck?”
“My truck.”
“You let me believe … I. I.” Her body tensed under my hands. “Your girlfriend is a fucking hunk of metal on wheels?” Aida whipped around and slammed her palms into my chest, hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
I stood my ground. “No. My girlfriend is a fiery, doe-eyed, mob princess.”
“What did you say?” She lashed out again, this time with a punch to the gut.
I let her have that one. What was I going to do, wrestle a pregnant woman? Sweet Jesus, she was gorgeous, all red cheeks and fists of fury.
Palms raised in mock surrender, I backed up. “Whoa, Bambi. Take it easy,” I chuckled. “Violence is not good for the baby.”
“This is not funny. I’ve been so angry with you.” Her voice raised an octave. “And I am not your girlfriend.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. You must be my girlfriend. Friends don’t kiss like you just kissed me.”
Raising a shaky finger to her lips, her eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment before she raised her chin to glare at me. “We’re just friends.”
“Fr
iends don’t get jealous of nonexistent girlfriends.” I retreated another two steps.
Aida stalked forward then paused.
“We’re just…” Her hands smoothed over her belly. “I mean. We can’t. I’m not good for…” She shook her head. “I mean. I wasn’t jealous.”
“You were jealous.” I planted my feet firmly on the dusty floor.
“I thought I was the other woman. I hate cheaters. That’s all.”
“So do I. See? We’re a perfect pair.” I stepped closer, daring her to strike again. Hoping she would give me an excuse to touch that body. “And Bambi, you are not the other woman. You are the only woman.”
“You said you don’t have time for a relationship.”
“I made time.”
“But—”
“No buts.” I gripped her upper arms, tight enough to let her know I wasn’t playing around. “We’re doing this. I’m doing this, for as long as I have you. Understand? I’m done fighting fate.”
“Fighting? What?” Brows pinched, her gaze bounced from my mouth to my eyes.
“Whatever the reason, life brought us together. There’s no denying the attraction. I’m running with it. You can run with me, or I can chase you. Either way, it’ll be one helluva ride.”
“I just wanted a fuck buddy,” she mumbled.
I leaned close, pressed my lips to her ear, and whispered, “Liar.”
She jerked back, pulling free. “I have responsibilities back home that you can’t possibly understand.”
My whole body vibrated with unbridled need. “You’re not at home. Right now, you’re with me.”
“Tucker.” Aida shook her head, her attentions now on the cement floor beneath our feet.
“Aida. Stop fighting this. I feel how you melt against me. You surrender. You’re not the type of girl to yield to anyone, yet you do every time you’re in my arms. That means something.”
“We shared a few moments of weakness, a couple of trysts at The Truck Stop. It didn’t mean anything.”
My chest crumpled, pained by her lie.
“Tryst?” I raked a hand over the top of my head, scratching away the irritation. “A fucking tryst? Jesus. You know it was more than that.”
Truck Stop Tryst Page 10
