by Kayce Kyle
This road is creepy and gives me an eerie feeling. Now all I want to do is go home and wrap myself up in one of my faux fur blankets and curl up next to my fireplace. Maybe finally open that bottle of two-thousand-five Chateau Petrus I was saving for a special occasion.
The rain picks up as the drops begin to pound loudly on the roof of my Lexus LC. Silently I begin to sob inside as I regret my decision to leave my apartment. Glancing down briefly at my navigation to see how much longer I have until I will arrive at my destination, the loud pop of my tire can be felt and heard as I desperately attempt to maintain control. I need to stop. I have to pull over. I’m going to be stuck on the isolated road of death until whatever lurks in those woods eventually finds me and comes out to feed on me. Turning on my hazard lights, I come to a complete stop. I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted and about to burst from every seam in my body. My face falls into my palms and I begin to wail before self-pity turns to pure unfiltered anger. Unable to control what’s left of my emotions, my hands connect with the steering wheel as I pound my anger out on it.
BLAINE
“They won! They fucking pulled it off with that two-point conversion and three seconds left on the clock!” Emmit squeezes the top of my shoulders in excitement before he pops off the cap on a beer and chugs it down.
Cheers have been ongoing now for well over a full minute. “One round of drinks on the house for the win! Go Dawgs!” I declare over the crowd, and another loud ring of excitement pierces my ears.
Sharla passes behind me and pats my back. “Good game, and great night, boss! Everyone’s so pumped they’re being extra generous with their tips. Looks like I’ll be able to catch the rest of my bills up all by myself.” She winks at me. “I do appreciate you and Emmit always looking out for me, though.”
“Always,” I reply as she walks back behind me the other way with a tray full of prepared drinks.
“Hey,” I call out, and she stops and turns to look at me over her shoulder. “Gonna take this trash out to the dumpster. It’s overflowing. I’ll be right back.”
“Got your colt?” she asks me, raising a single brow.
I reach behind myself and pat the lower part of my back where I keep my handgun on me at all times.
“Just be careful. That bobcat’s still hunting close by and on the loose. Read it in the paper this morning. Got old man Stan’s new calf,” she informs me.
“I’m good,” I tell her as I gather the overflowing trash bag and walk toward the back and outside the doors. The heavy rain pellets soak me in mere seconds, so I rush to the side where our main dumpster is and toss the bag over.
As I begin to turn my back to jog my way back inside, I hear the cry of a woman’s voice call out, “Help! Can you help me, please?” It stops me where I stand, and I turn. Through my blurred watery vision I attempt to make out where the voice is coming from. It gets closer and underneath the one street light hovering over the bar’s parking lot, I see the small frame of a woman. She simply stands there as the rain beats down on her and I’m unsure if this is some escapee from an institution or what. Placing my hand around my backside and on my gun, slowly I approach her.
“Lady are you injured?” I holler out as I continue making my way closer. Still, she doesn’t move which is suspicious, but she finally speaks.
“My car. I have a flat. A little way down there.” She looks over her shoulder and points back down the road before turning her attention back to me.
“Okay. Let’s get you inside and out of this weather and we can see about getting someone to help you.” I’m now within a foot of her and I notice that she’s definitely not anyone I recognize and must not be from around here. She’s shivering, and fear plasters her face. “Look, I can see that you’re not from around here. It’s fucking raining, we’re both drenched, and, well, there’s a bobcat out here somewhere on the prowl. Not sure about you, but I’d rather not be its meal for the night.”
Her trembling momentarily subsides as I watch her eyes grow large and she walks past me hastily, eventually turning into a jog to the front door of the bar. I’m right on her heels and make it past her in time to open the door for her and she quickly enters.
All eyes turn, and the entire bar seems to go silent. Most patrons in here are men tonight and they’re all fairly buzzed if not flat-out drunk. Whistles and sexual advances are loudly voiced, but before I can say anything, she quickly turns and nearly walks right into me. My hands immediately find their way to the top of her shoulders as I try to assure her she’s safe. I can clearly tell she’s distraught and something tells me it’s not simply over a flat tire.
Slowly, she brings her eyes up to meet mine. Mascara drips down her cheeks, but nothing takes away the absolute beauty of her bright golden-colored eyes peeking up at me through her lashes. So pure looking. I find myself their hostage as I want to dive into their innocence and wash away all the sins of my past. She swallows hard which only accentuates her neckline as she does so, and my eyes trail lower to her soaking wet shirt. Oh, shit! It’s white, drooping off one shoulder, and the outline of her perky breasts and erect nipples are on full display. My cock twitches in my jeans. Even though my own shirt is soaking wet, I quickly remove it and wrap it around her as best I can. I can feel the heat of her gaze still fixated on me, but right now I cannot get lost in that again. “I’m Blaine.” I gently place a hand on her arm and she jumps slightly. “This is my bar. You’re safe. I won’t let those men harm you.” Fuck, I don’t know if she’s been through some sort of domestic situation or what and I’m completely out of my element now. “You said you had a flat?” She nods.
“What’s going on, Blaine?” Sharla approaches and asks, looking at me and then to the beauty that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Oh, honey. What’s happened?” Sharla asks, with concern as she places her hand on this woman’s arm.
“I’m gonna call Sheriff Hall,” I say, as I start to walk past them both.
A hand grabs my arm, causing me to stop and turn back around. It’s her, and those eyes dare me to try and look away, and I can’t. “I’m Tara. I-I…am not hurt. Not physically. I have a flat tire not too far down the road out there. I’m just kind of far from home.” Entranced by her angelic voice and held captive yet again by her eyes, I find myself rendered speechless. Tara, huh? Such an elegant name and she wears it beautifully and speaks it with such pride. Drenched from the rain this woman is still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. She lowers her head, freeing me from their prison and I feel myself sigh. What in the fuck is happening here? “I just need a place to dry off and call someone to remove my car from that road, so it doesn’t cause an accident.”
“You go call the sheriff and I’m gonna take her upstairs and get her a dry t-shirt if that’s okay?” Sharla asks me.
I run my hand through my hair as I once again find my eyes trailing back downward in hopes of stealing another view of her perfect tits.
“Blaine!” Sharla’s voice startles me and my eyes snap up and find hers.
“What? Oh. Right. Yeah. That’s fine,” I finally answer, before turning on my heel as I make my way back behind the bar to call Sheriff Hall.
Chapter Three
TARA
I must be having a dream within a nightmare. This place smells of thick cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol. My emotions border between feeling like I’ve entered an alternate universe while the other part of me is wildly curious. My eyes inquisitively follow Blaine as he walks over and behind the bar. My mouth waters at the very sight of this man and his perfectly built physique. His touch on my arm sent a jolt of electricity through my body as if it were breathing life back into it. A simple, harmless touch from him did more to my body than years of sex with Preston. He oozes sex appeal and danger. His top left shoulder and chest is inked, something you don’t typically see from men within our social standing. The way he instinctively covered me with his own shirt like a gentleman also intrigues me. There are a few women in
here, but the limited amount of them that I see are following him with their eyes. He’s the epitome of everything my family and friends would call trash and judge instantly, but the few simple acts he’s done for me already have awakened sleeping butterflies in my stomach.
I’ve never actually been inside any place like this. There’s a billiards table that looks as old as I am, and a torn leather sofa in the corner by it. A rather small bar counter top and on the other side of the bar, there’s an old jukebox and I suppose the world’s tiniest dance floor considering there were a few people dancing on it.
The woman who stepped in to help me hooks her arm through mine, as she begins to lead me somewhere. After we pass the jukebox and dance floor, the woman helping me ushers me to some stairs. I stop and turn to look at her skeptically. “Tara is it?” I nod after a brief moment. “I’m Sharla. Look, I know none of these buffoons know or have noticed, but I see that designer handbag locked onto your other elbow. You might not be in your fanciest clothes, but you’re…well-kept.” She eyes me up and down. “Not sure what brought you out this way, but right now, let’s at least get you into a dry shirt. I know this is probably a place you wouldn’t frequent if given a choice, but you kinda don’t have one right now. Well, at least not until you buy your way out of this situation.” I think she’s just insulted me, but she’s right. I’ll be out of here rather soon. “So, all I’m asking is for a little bit of trust. We don’t typically get women of your kind. Look, you’re stunning and even with mascara-stained cheeks, you look like a barbie doll. So, it kinda made all these drunk bastards froth at the mouth. That’s why Blaine tried to cover you with his shirt. He’s harmless. Promise.”
“Okay,” I answer, as I clutch my purse closer to me and begin my journey up the stairs with Sharla’s hand gently placed on the middle of my back behind me.
What am I thinking? Why am I so easily trusting this woman, and that man named Blaine? I might be a wealthy trust fund snob to some, but that doesn’t mean I never went to a movie theater. Hell, I’ve seen those movies where someone ends up in a scenario similar to this only to wind up into tiny fragments left to rot in a field somewhere. Yet somehow, instinctively I trust them.
The stairs lead directly to a door and Sharla pulls a key from her apron and opens it. “Go on. Go in,” she says, gesturing for me to proceed with her hand.
I enter the room and notice the room is bare bones only equipped with a bed, chair in the corner, a tiny dresser, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. Is this where Blaine sleeps? I nearly shudder at the thought. I would feel claustrophobic living like this day in and day out. Although I must admit, it’s rather tidy. I wonder if he has a girlfriend who cleans up after him?
“Here, throw this on.” Sharla’s voice pulls me from scanning and scrutinizing his room. It’s a pair of men’s sweatpants and a t-shirt that will swallow me whole. “Or, you can stay in the soaking wet clothes you have on. I’d at least cover up your ta-ta’s if you stay in those. Those puppies are perky and not leaving a damn thing to the imagination if you catch my drift?” She lowers her gaze to my chest.
I set my handbag down on the bed. Does she expect me to strip down and change right here in front of her? I briefly scan the room again to make sure I didn’t miss a closet or restroom. I really do need out of these wet clothes. “Could you…” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Turn around?”
I nod but take notice of her subtle eye roll as she turns away from me. I am wearing a bra, but Sharla’s right—it’s drenched, and you can see everything. At least the t-shirt she gave me is black. Once I have removed my clothing and have the new, dry shirt on, I bend over to pull the sweatpants up.
“Whoa!” I hear the deep rumble of a man’s voice echo behind me, causing me to jump as I hastily finish pulling the sweatpants up. “Nice ass!”
“Pig!” Sharla shouts and it sounds like she smacks him in some manner.
“Give the lady some privacy, Emmit!” I hear Blaine’s voice roar right after, as I turn around. I can feel the warmth creep up my neck and cheeks subtly burn them as I know the hint of my embarrassment shades my face. “Due to the weather, we’re gonna be closing early. Sheriff Hall says the roads are beginning to flood.”
Wait. Flood? Oh, no! This can’t be happening. Not tonight and not to me. I have to get my tire fixed and at the very least get out of here. Damn, why does Blaine’s voice stir up excitement inside of me that’s apparently been dormant? Briefly I imagine how it might not be so bad being stuck here with him, at least for one night. It would definitely be something I’ve never experienced. Mentally, I rid myself of my last thoughts as I faintly shake it off.
“I’ve already started closing out tabs. Big Boy should have your car towed into this parking lot around back with our vehicles soon,” Blaine looks at me and says, placing a hand on the doorframe. “You two should probably get back down there. It’s gonna be a long night of cleaning up, too. I’ll be right behind y’all,” he states to Sharla and the man he called Emmit. The gentle stir of those butterflies begin to make their presence known again. Blaine’s excusing them, and it will be just the two of us. In here, and alone. With a bed. Internally, I shame myself for allowing my mind to even think such things. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit images of him touching and worshipping my bare skin while inside of me didn’t just cross it.
“Damn, and I was hoping to break an even grand tonight. Eh, maybe I will once I close out everyone’s tabs.” Sharla shrugs and turns to face me. “Want me to carry your clothes downstairs and start them in the wash?”
Is she their maid? I’m so damn confused right now. “Um, thank you, but I won’t be here long enough for all of that.” I look over at Blaine as I reach for my wallet in my purse and open it. “I’ll pay you for your clothes. I’ll even mail them back once I’m home. Will one-hundred be enough?”
The man Blaine called Emmit chuckles before turning around and proceeding down the stairs. Both Blaine and Sharla find my words amusing as well. Sharla walks up to me. “Tara, I don’t know where you’re from, but you ain’t there anymore sweetheart. You’re in Rose City, Texas. Population, well, what you saw down there.” She points to the floor, insinuating the people in the bar below us. “That’s about it. The roads are flooding and unless you have a helicopter coming to save your ass, you’ll be going home with someone downstairs.” She leans in close and whispers in my ear, “Which I don’t advise. Although most are harmless. I doubt they’re you’re type. So, basically, it sounds like you’ll be staying here. At least for the night. Oh, and the clothes of Blaine’s you’re wearing? He probably spent no more than thirty-dollars max on the entire ensemble.” She takes my heavy, soaked, clothes from my grasp and turns on her heel, heading downstairs.
Crossing my arms, I try to shelter my body while comforting myself. I feel the loneliness and sadness as they begin to sneak in. All I wanted to do was try and prevent Preston from public humiliation while possibly saving my own ass at the time and it’s turned into this. Now? I’m in a town I’ve never heard of stranded by an act of mother nature? I feel my emotions overwhelm and take the best of me as I plop down defeated, onto Blaine’s bed. I pull my own body inward as I curl into myself and bury my face—hiding my tears from these people I don’t know as I silently begin to weep.
“So, um, yeah. Big Boy will have your car around back in no time and I’m sure by morning we’ll be able to get that tire of yours fixed,” I hear Blaine tell me, his tone reeks of his uncomfortableness. But I’m too upset to even care anymore. I hear his footsteps slowly fade away as he strides down the stairs.
After a few minutes when I’m certain that I’m alone, I lift my head. It has gotten quiet downstairs, so I assume most of the patrons have already left. I shuffle through my purse looking for my compact. I must look a mess. What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower and to wash my hair. When I finally locate my compact, I open it and shriek inside at the sight staring back at me. Fumbling through my purse again,
I find myself desperate for something, anything that will help rid my face of these mascara-stained cheeks. I luck out and find a travel pack of makeup removal wipes. After I’ve successfully cleaned my face, I notice my eyes are all red and blotchy from all the crying I just did.
“Well, well. Aren’t you the picture of vanity,” Sharla states, startling me before walking over to me as she makes herself comfortable taking a seat next to me. “I’m only teasing,” she assures me, but I’m not sure I’m convinced.
I feel my inner snarky side debating on making an appearance, and she does. “Look, I know you all think I’m some uppity bitch and all I care about is money and my appearance, but you’re all wrong.” Now I feel the tears as they beckon to be released and slowly they begin to fall once more. “All I wanted to do was drive and take a couple of days away from all the people you’re stereotyping me to be. I just wanted two whole days to myself without someone having any expectations of me.” I’m not lying, but I’m not being completely honest here, either. “You know, without having my mother and father playing director of my day-to-day life. Most importantly, to spare my boyfriend the embarrassment when I publicly decline his proposal in front of the governor and hundreds of other people.” That last sentence slips out with several tears as my tone lowers to nearly a whisper.
Brushing the tears away from my cheeks with my hand, I glance up at Sharla whose lips have parted at my full-disclosure declaration. She opens her mouth to speak and it’s interrupted by the clearing of Blaine’s throat. We both look in his direction. “Your, uh, car is safely parked in the back now.” I stand in excitement and again reach for my wallet, but Blaine interrupts my search. “He’s gone now. You don’t owe him any money, either.”
