by Casey Elliot
I pulled down one country road, and then another, conscious of the gravel under my wheels. Eventually, we pulled up in front of a thicket of trees. I turned the bike off, and pulled off my helmet.
"Uh..." said Hayley, after she had removed her own helmet. "Where are we?"
She dismounted, and I followed suit. Then, I grabbed her hand and led her through the trees.
When we came out on the other side, Hayley's breath caught in her throat. We were in a small clearing at the edge of a cliff. Underneath us, the waves crashed and roared against the rocks, churning and retreating to do it all over again.
"I wasn't expecting this," was all Hayley said, as she went to the edge of the cliff. She sat down and dangled her feet into the abyss. I knew she would be the daring type.
I joined her, sitting close enough so that our thighs touched. She didn't shimmy away.
"This is where my best friend Eric and I used to come when we first got home from deployment," I explained. "We'd take our bikes and some beers, and come hang out and talk about everything we'd seen."
She didn't rush me. She simply nodded her head and looked out to the horizon.
"That sounds nice," she said when I didn't continue.
"It was."
"So, why are we here now?" she asked.
"Because Eric's dead."
Chapter Eight
Hayley
His words jarred me. I hadn't expected when he picked me up outside my house, that he had actually intended to let me in. Now that he was, I didn't want to scare him off. I wasn't sure whether I should ask questions or just be silent. I decided that he probably wouldn't just offer the story out to me, so I was going to have to take it.
"I'm sorry," I said. He was leaning backward against his hands, and I reached mine back just enough to rest my fingers over his. He didn't shake me off, which I had half-expected him to do.
"Why have you been in my bar for the past week?" I figured that talking about his friend was something that I could come back to. Besides, more than likely, the two topics were related.
He scoffed. "Buchanan pulled rank on me and made me take a vacation." He gave me an amused sidelong glance. "I was getting into too many fights, if you can believe that."
I chuckled. "You? In a fight? I can't imagine anyone wanting to lay a finger on you."
He smiled wryly. "Yet, here I am."
"I'm glad you are," I said.
I think I must have surprised both of us. Gage certainly hadn't been expecting it. His eyes darted over to me, one eyebrow quirked.
To break the tension, I added, "You've been keeping me fed in tips. I was on plain pasta before you came along."
We laughed, and then descended into a comfortable silence. I don't know how long we sat that way. I probably would have been content to sit a bit longer, but I felt like there was more that needed to be aired out first. There was a war going on in that impenetrable head of his; I could practically hear the guns and cannons firing, and the charge of the cavalry. That man hadn't known peace in a long time.
"Were you getting into fights because you blame yourself?" I asked.
I knew I had hit the nail on the head when his hand retracted from beneath mine and he stood abruptly.
"I told you why I'm here," he said darkly. "You got your prize."
I scrambled onto my feet to face him. "This isn't about what I won in some stupid music bingo," I countered. "You need to face this yourself."
His eyes trained onto mine, and in that moment, I saw him as he saw himself — a killer. His teeth ground together so hard that I could see his jaw tick, but he made no other movements.
"Gage," I said softly. "Whatever happened —"
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't ha —"
"I should have been there!"
His outburst rang through the air, out over the ocean, where it was swallowed by the tumbling waves. The ferocity in his eyes melted before me, and I took a tentative step before him.
"He needed me and I wasn't there," he said. "And now, he's dead."
"Where were you?"
He slipped off his leather jacket and dropped it to the grass. Then, he pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt so that I could see the top of his shoulder. A red, puckered scar marred his skin; a bullet wound.
"On one of our missions, I got sloppy. Got shot," he explained. "Then, when Eric needed me, I was still in a medical tent recovering from a wound that should have never happened."
I took another couple of steps toward him. We were only a foot or two away from each other now, and I raised a hand to his chest.
"It wasn't your fault, Gage," I said.
"I don't need your absolution," he said quietly.
"No," I agreed. "You need your own."
He sighed and placed his hand over mine, holding my fingers to his heartbeat. I could feel the heat of his skin beneath his shirt, and the hard outline of his muscle. He was skin and bones, flesh and blood, just like the rest of us. He just needed to remember that.
"You're one helluva bartender," he commented.
I smiled. "A girl's gotta have more than one talent."
He turned and walked back to the cliff's edge, sitting back down with a sigh. I followed.
“What are you doing bartending?” he asked.
I didn’t mind the topic-change. I was confident I’d be able to bring it back around.
“Saving money to get back to school, like I said,” I replied. He shook his head. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why’d you stop going to school in the first place? Why go bartend at a big bad biker bar? I’m sure there’s other things around for you to do.”
I frowned. “I like being a bartender.”
“You know what I mean.”
Well, it appeared we were both dragging out our skeletons into the light. “My ex-boyfriend was a jerk. Among other things, he took off with my savings and disappeared.”
Gage whistled. “He should hope that I never meet him.”
I tried not to grin like an idiot. “It wasn’t really my plan at the time,” I continued, “but I think I ended up working in a biker bar because I figured that nobody could get me there. I didn’t have to play nice if I wasn’t being respected.” I shrugged. “And, I guess if he ever came in, nobody would mind if I threw a bottle at his head.”
Gage laughed heartily, tipping his head back and showing all of his straight white teeth. Dang, he was good looking. We settled back into our companionable silence for awhile. I was the first one to break it.
"What was he like? Eric?" I asked.
Gage let out another bark of laughter. "He was crazy. An absolute nut bar."
"Sounds like the best kind of person."
Gage's eyes tracked the flight of a seagull that passed by. "He was," he replied. "You would have liked him."
I snorted. "I don't know. It took me awhile to like you." I gave him a playful jab in the ribs.
He rubbed his ribs in fake affrontement. "Alright, fair enough; he would have liked you, then."
I don't know why getting the approval of Gage's dead best friend was so heartwarming to me, but it was. I smiled and leaned into Gage's side, resting my head on his shoulder. I could tell that he looked down at me quizzically, and probably considered shaking me off, but he let me stay.
Dusk began to settle, and we watched the last rays of the evening sun sink into the horizon together. Something had changed between us that day, and at first, I couldn't put my finger on it. When the last vestige of light was all but a memory, it hit me — trust. I trusted Gage now, and he trusted me.
Funny how these things happen.
"Should we go?" Gage asked.
I didn't reply right away, and I think he took that as a sign of my assent. He stood up and lowered a hand down to help me up. I took it, but not because I was ready to go.
He began walking back toward the woods, but when I wasn't following, he turned to face me. I think I m
eant to say something snarky about getting a move on, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that I had pulled off my jacket and dropped it to the ground.
"Why don't we stay for a bit?" I asked huskily.
His eyes nearly lit up in the darkness, and he closed the distance between us.
"I thought you'd never ask."
He stalked toward me and pulled me roughly against him, devouring my mouth with his. My whole body was on fire, sparking with every graze of his hand against my back, my side, wrapped in my hair. His lips spoke of hunger and need, and I responded in kind.
His arms were a steel cage that embraced me, trapping me, protecting me. The rest of the world slipped away and I felt only him. If there was nothing else ever again, it wouldn’t have bothered me even slightly.
We tumbled to the grass below, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks adding music to the dance of our entwined bodies.
Chapter Nine
Gage
The feeling of Hayley's head on my chest made me want to rumble with pride. We were both tired, spent. We listened to the waves below and the sound of each other's heartbeats. She was mine now, and I would keep her in my arms for as long as I could.
It was getting late though, and I had an idea that required getting back into town before sunrise.
"We need to get up," I informed her. "It's time to head back."
Hayley muttered something that sounded like "don't wanna", but ultimately, I was able to pull her up onto her feet. We both redressed, and then I grabbed her hand and led her back through the trees.
It was pitch black under the leafy canopy, and I had to seriously watch where I stepped. Nonetheless, we made it back to the road without so much as scratch.
I got on the bike and Hayley straddled the seat behind me. When I started it, she squeezed her arms around my middle, and I smirked under my visor.
We cruised back through the darkness a little bit faster than when we had been going to the place earlier. Then, I had thought I would enjoy the ride more than the destination — now I knew the ride was only part of the fun, and that the real fun would begin after we had taken care of a couple matters of business.
I stopped a couple blocks down from her parents' house.
"What are we doing here?" she asked, her voice muffled by the helmet. She pulled it off. "I live, like two blocks that way."
I pulled off my helmet too and craned my neck to catch her eye. "I know, but I didn't want to wake your parents up."
She laughed. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not sure that they'd approve of me taking you away for the next couple of days."
Hayley got off the bike and stood in front of me. "What do you mean?"
I smirked. "Exactly what I said, gorgeous," I replied. "You and I are going on a trip. We're going to go see some of those places you want to see. I figured you’d want to pack a bag."
She crossed her arms over her chest. Oh, I thought I was about to get it for something.
"I'm twenty-three, Gage," she said flatly. "I don't need my parents' approval to go away for a couple nights."
I shrugged. "I know," I said, "but all the same, I doubt they'd appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night by some guy's bike right before he dragged you off to god knows where."
She pursed her lips. They looked delicious. "Good point," she admitted.
She placed her helmet down on the ground beside the bike and began a hurried walk toward her house. She returned a few minutes later with a small bag of essentials. I handed her helmet back to her, and pulled mine on too.
Then, with a mighty roar, we careened off into the night.
The End
Bonus - Untamed - Western BWWM
Chapter One
“Where the heck did that man go now?” Brianne growled as soon as the bell dinged and the next bull, Cramer, came barreling out of the gate. Her dark brown skin was scorching in the Texas sun, absorbing it. She was burning to a dang crisp. She felt like fried chicken sitting out in that heat, and it wasn’t even for anything interesting; a rodeo.
Patrick had brought her to a dang rodeo. What sort of woman wanted to go to a rodeo anyway?
Other than the lady directly in front of her, in the stand, that is. She was hooting and hollering like her life depended on it, and wore a plain white cowboy hat with a black leather strap, and also, donned an ugly plaid cut-off shirt. The woman was basically the biggest quintessential stereotype Brianne had ever heard of.
Brianne huffed in frustration and stood up. She looked one way, and then the other, her neck craning for all that it was worth, as she looked through the ridiculous crowd of people standing on the bleachers to look at some scrawny man thrown from a bull, for the fortieth time that day.
There was some sort of scoring system for every 8 second ride, but Brianne hadn’t really paid that much attention; it seemed like a stupid sport to her… all of this seemed stupid to her; the country-life, the rodeos, the terrible clothes. It was all her boyfriend, Patrick’s, dream.
At only twenty-four years old, Brianne was young and incredibly in love. Patrick was the only man she’d ever had such intense feelings for. He was gorgeous, with a rocking six pack and a fun-loving personality. They’d met at work, back when Brianne was just an eager intern at a huge financial firm in Chicago. It was like fireworks the first moment she saw him in the office. He’d caught her eye before they ever spoke. He was tall, dark and handsome in every sense of the world.
He also happened to be one of her bosses. As a well-established senior accountant, he was going places… and she was too. She got a job exactly parallel to him right after college. They were a power couple. Intelligent, excellent jobs, and in a nice apartment right smack dab in Wicker Park. Turns out though, that was all temporary.
After years of working the same 9-5 job, Patrick wasn’t happy, and decided that the only place he wanted to go was to Texas, to live a much simpler lifestyle like his grandma and grandpa lived. She had heard her fair share of stories about life on the ranch. Things were better there, he had said. Things were nicer, including the people. Life was easier. She wasn’t ever much for a country girl, always having lived in the city and all, but she loved him, and she wanted to go with him to pursue his idea of happiness.
That’s why she was here, bored to death, wondering where the heck he was. He got up to hit the concession stand almost an hour ago. It was packed, but dang, did it really take that long to get a beer and some nachos?
She sighed, as she continued to whip her head side to side to look for him, only to find a whole lot of nothing. Well, nothing except for a tall, attractive blonde-haired cowboy, flashing her a smile. He had light skin. Well, light skin to her. He was probably fairly tan as far as white men went. Tipping his white cowboy hat toward her, he winked until a blush crept up on her cheek and he walked away.
He was attractive. There was no denying that. He had a face of scruff, but it was clean, and he had a jaw-line for days. His chest was broad, waist narrow, and he had tight jeans on that made his butt look like a picture of cowboy perfection. He was like one of those cowboys she’d seen at the several bachelorette parties she’d been to; the ones that were accompanied by firemen, which made no sense at all from a logical stand point. He was just the kind of guy that adhered to the female fantasy; and darn it all, he looked just like fantasies Brianne had once harbored herself.
Heck, even now she couldn’t deny the electricity that jolted from her loins as soon as he’d looked at her, but she quickly shrugged it off. She was taken, after all; happily taken. That is, if she could find out wherever the heck that man of hers went.
Grumbling, she climbed over the bleacher seat she’d been sitting at with him for most of the afternoon to reach the steps. She wondered if he’d be downstairs in the concession stand still or in the bathroom, but her feet ached and throbbed beneath her and she realized that she might be the one that needed to disappear for a few minutes.
Her brand
new black Jimmy Choo’s probably weren’t the best choice for a rodeo. Heck, they probably weren’t the best choice of shoe in general. They were way too expensive; enough to make you sick for spending that much money on them, but they were Patrick’s way of thanking her for coming out to Texas with him. To her, it seemed more like an apology than anything else, but she loved them so much she didn’t really care which it was.
She was happy there with him. Heck, she would have been happy in an igloo smack dab in the middle of an ice storm if he was there too; if they were together… preferably, cuddling naked underneath a nice warm blanket.
She pounded down the steps, and to the back of the bleachers toward the exit. The air already smelled better when she stepped off the steel bleachers, walking away from the bull pen. She wasn’t sure what the heck was wrong with her boyfriend, and why he was constantly interested in being around things that smelled so bad, but if that’s what he wanted, then so be it.
Her feet were barking, and she knew if she had any chance of tracking him down, she needed to get to the truck and grab her flats. It sort of annoyed her if she was being honest with herself. Her black flats wouldn’t look anywhere near as good with her white blouse and black skinny jeans as her Jimmy Choo’s did, but she never was the type of woman to risk being uncomfortable just for looks.
With one uncomfortable and somewhat wobbly step after another, she found herself closer to the truck. She grinned, happy to see the sight of hoods, headlights, and windshields in the distance. That is, until something hot and sticky caught her shoe, almost catching her just enough to cause her to fall.
Crap.
Literal crap.
She had just stepped in crap.
Horse or bull, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it was huge, steaming, fresh, and smelly. God dammit. She knew she shouldn’t have worn heels to a rodeo. As if stepping over hay with her feet barking for hours wasn’t enough, she had to be punished by a poop covered shoe?
