“You mean kinda like Madonna or Cher?”
A gilded smile returned and he relaxed. “More like Judas or—”
“Or just plain Lucifer,” came a voice from behind them.
“Roxanne.” Mia sighed without turning. “What’s the matter, Rox, did you get lonely? I suppose you thought I’d be right back, but here I am, enjoying my drink.” She spun around, raising her glass, greeting her with a look of triumph. “I’ll need that chem lab by Monday.”
Flynn turned to get a closer look. He’d noticed her before. Hell, blind men would notice her. Roxanne was something beyond a vision. Watching her glide primly toward them, he figured somewhere there had to be a tag on her that read BEAUTY QUEEN—DELUXE MODEL. But even from across the bar he sensed that the assumption was too simple. She was too engaged, concentrating on her surroundings as if she were on the front line. He didn’t care for the type, always on the defensive. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” he said, grinning sweetly, positive it would irk her. “Guess you caught my name, but, hell, call me Beelzebub, Prince of Darkness. Whatever turns you on. Buy you a drink, babe?” He winked, smoothly delving into the part.
In incremental, deliberate tics, Roxanne’s head rotated toward Flynn, responding to the remark like she’d heard fingernails on a blackboard. “Well, the devil’s spawn does take many forms,” she replied coolly, looking Flynn over as if he were in need of an exorcism. “And no thanks, babe. The drinks are safer on the other side of the bar.”
Flynn peered over to find the two frat boys making out with Mia’s friends. One had his hand halfway up the platinum blonde’s shirt; the second looked as if his tongue were scraping the other girl’s tonsils. His focus turned straight back to Roxanne. “Hmm, yeah, looks like a church social. What time’s the prayer meeting?”
“Why? Does the Antichrist want to give the invocation?” she shot back. “Bet you do a mean imitation. Mia, I’m going to the restroom and then we’re going home. You’ve made your point.”
Flynn leaned back and folded his arms, curious to see how Mia would handle the ultimatum.
“Oh, well, Flynn and I, we were just talking.”
Roxanne’s brow pulled tighter, corralling her authority. “Right, but it’s late, so say good night and let’s get going.”
Flynn watched, sure that he saw the heat in Mia’s face rise.
“No, Rox, I’m not ready. But you go ahead if you want. I’ll come home with Lanie and Sara in a little while.”
“And leave you here with him? I wouldn’t dare. Lord have mercy, what in the world have you been drinking?” Roxanne snatched her glass and gave it a hard sniff. “Great, Mia, beer then liquor, never sicker. You’ll be in fine shape tomorrow. Probably throw up in my shower bucket again. Honestly . . .”
“Roxanne, you’re being incredibly rude,” Mia snapped, the anger in her eyes palpable. “What’s the big deal? I’m fine, we’re just talking.”
During the entire exchange, Roxanne and Flynn had barely looked away from one another, a standoff of wills. He didn’t offer an opinion; anything he said would just have been fuel for her fire.
Roxanne’s fists rested firmly on her narrow hips, her soft painted mouth now in a tight, unwavering line. She forfeited the staring contest, her gaze finally shooting to Mia. “Like I said, I’ll be right back, so finish the drink and your intellectual exchange on religious heretics and let’s go.” Mia didn’t move and he watched a sharp swallow swim through Roxanne’s delicate throat. “Besides, I need to get a jump on that lab.” She turned, stalking off in the direction of the ladies’ room.
Mia jumped up from the barstool, practically knocking Flynn’s drink from his hand. “Do you believe her? I mean, who does she think she is?”
“Apparently she thinks she’s in charge.” He shrugged, feeling a little let down. Apparently Roxanne was going to prevail. Finishing his ice water, he pulled a tight roll of bills from his pocket. “Listen, Mia, it was really nice talking to you, but I don’t want to cause a problem.”
“You’re not! She is!” Mia turned toward Flynn, watching him settle the tab. “You’re going?”
He thought he heard disappointment. “Yeah, I still have to find a room, and I’m pretty tired.” Flynn gave a lazy stretch, and he caught her eyes traveling his body. He considered for a moment what he’d like to do with hers. His thoughts dusted over the shapely legs that disappeared beneath a sexy, white skirt. It was short but not tight, sashaying along with her when she walked. She wore a sleeveless summer blouse, cut just low enough to attract the eye, revealing the tiniest bit of bare stomach. It was both sexy and sweet, made of some delicate pink fabric. But it was the fine strap of something silky beneath that drew his attention. Flynn admired it all for a second longer, then shook it off, thinking it was a dangerous game in which to indulge. Chatty, innocent, and way too easily influenced. “It’s been a long day. Even Satan has to rest up for tomorrow’s souls.”
She licked her lips and glanced nervously around the bar, those doll’s eyes sparkling wide. “Take me with you!”
“What?”
“I said I want to go with you. At least I can show you where the decent hotels are. Then you can give me a ride home,” she added, making it clear that it was an act of defiance and not an invitation. “Come on, before she comes back.” She tugged at his arm and her voice was almost pleading. She was surreal.
Perhaps he’d made a hasty judgment; maybe she had more resolve than he’d given her credit for. Flynn looked around a bar that was brimming with inebriated college kids. There were worse things to be had right there. It could be fun for a few hours. Then he would return her home, before she mistook him for anything but a brief walk on the wild side. “All right, Mia, but you have to at least tell your other friends that you’re leaving.” The protective urge he had when he first saw her on the street crept back. Part of him wanted to warn her not to do this. What did she know about him? Roxanne, for all her bossiness, was right. He could be any one of a hundred things, none of them good. Mia did as he asked, then grabbed his hand as she led him out the door.
Chapter 5
“That’s right, you ride a motorcycle,” Mia said, her confidence fading as she surveyed the ominous black bike glistening under the street lamps. It seemed to beckon to him, matching him so completely.
“Yeah, remember, I told you. Bike, cross-country—part of the whole devil image. Hey, listen, if you don’t want to go, that’s okay. I’m sure I can find a room with no problem. I’ve had plenty of practice. Besides, you’ve probably already given Roxanne a heart attack.”
Guilt rose in his voice, but Mia quickly reaffirmed her decision—especially since Roxanne seemed so sure about hers. “No, it’s fine. I want to go with you. I haven’t been on a bike in years . . .” She caught his skeptical expression. “Okay, so I’ve never been on a motorcycle in my life. I’m riding it, not driving it. How hard can it be?”
“That depends. How drunk are you really? Do you think you can hang on?”
“Do you want me to walk a straight line for you? Count fingers? I’m okay. Promise.”
He took a long look into her eyes and a measured breath as if calculating the possible hazards. Flynn’s arm softly brushed against her stomach as he reached past Mia, causing her to break out in a rush of goose bumps. She wasn’t sure if it was novelty or curiosity, but there was something that made him wickedly desirable. Before her tipsy mind could wander toward a quixotic thought, something heavy crunched down on her head, his hands tightening a strap around her chin. “Oh . . .” she said softly, reaching up to touch the helmet she now wore.
“You ride, you wear. Motorcycles are dangerous. Now, it’s not gonna fall off, is it?” he asked, his eyes looking hard into hers. “That’s as tight as I can get the strap. Listen, whatever you do, don’t lean. Look over my shoulder and hang on.”
She nodded yes, the helmet bobbing back and forth on her head. Mia was glad there were instructions. She could work with that. “But wha
t about you? Isn’t that dangerous?”
He only shrugged. “Nah, we’re not going far. I’ll be fine.” Without another word he slung a leg over and cranked the motor with the obvious ease of a veteran rider. She hesitated, really absorbing him for the first time. The bike fit the long line of his body well, the lean muscle in his forearm tensing, connecting with the handlebars as if they were an extension of him. He stood for a moment, straddling the bike, reaching deep into his pocket. Even with the long hair, Mia could not recall ever seeing anything quite so masculine. He was as hard and streamlined as the machine he rode. She watched with fascination as a hair elastic appeared. Flynn expertly trapped the wild waves of his chestnut locks into a ponytail. Looking at her awestruck face, he shrugged again, remarking over the roar of the motor, “It’s hell to get the knots out otherwise.” He edged forward and jerked a shoulder at her. Laughter erupted from her throat and she scrambled onto the bike, ready to ride.
Moments later they were winding through Athens’s main thoroughfare, climbing the hilly streets, dipping deftly into the pocket of the next one. It was a fun city in a car, but exhilarating from this perspective. Instinctively her hands clasped around Flynn’s waist. She found herself pressing hard into his back to block the wind, peering boldly over his shoulder at familiar terrain that had taken a precarious turn. She pointed out upcoming lefts and rights, guiding him down sorority row where big mansions housed throngs of old Southern alliances. They were as historic as the campus itself. Riding so free, Mia couldn’t help but think that their rules and structure seemed confining. The air was fragrant and intense. She welcomed the sticky breeze, even if it was only man-made, motorcycle induced. It felt good.
When Flynn stopped for a light, he peered over his shoulder. “Doin’ okay back there?”
“Oh yes! It’s really so much fun!” She could see a smile creep onto his bearded face; he was probably amused by her giddy, schoolgirl answer.
“Hang on,” he warned, quickly squeezing his hand tight over hers. A shiver of excitement pulsated through her body; her breath caught as the bike took off. Maybe it wasn’t just the ride.
Mia directed him down a winding lane, thick with trees, the streetlights now gone. The only thing she could see was a narrow stream of pavement, lit from the bike’s headlamp. “There’s a big old house down this road. They rent rooms. It’s a little hard to find in the dark, maybe a mile or so farther, on the left.” The bike was moving slower now, the wave of exhilaration gone. An antsy feeling took root and she started to wonder about the dark road, rethinking her strategy—not that she had one to begin with. Mia let go of his waist and rubbed her hands on her bare thighs, realizing the skirt she wore was bunched up between her legs; not the smartest choice for motorcycle riding. Regardless, there she was, on a dark road with a near total stranger, slightly drunk. And she’d brought him there. Another swell decision. Roxanne’s bossy demand suddenly seemed reasonable, and Mia wished she were there. Of course, Roxanne would never be so careless as to put herself in a position like this. “Here, turn here.” She pointed to a dirt driveway, which she would not have spotted without the two shiny reflectors that flanked it. He cut the engine and she hopped off before the bunched skirt became an enticement. Quickly unbuckling the helmet, she thrust it back at him as if it were a game of hot potato. Thankfully she could make out a man at the front desk, the light of a television flickering brightly behind him. “Well, here we are,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She was a dead giveaway when it came to nerves; Roxanne always said so. Her voice sounded like a bird tangled in a live wire when she was nervous. He seemed to sense it, stepping away from her, just as he had on the street.
“Yeah, looks like a nice place. How did you ever find it?”
Great, he probably thinks this is where I bring all the men I pick up in bars. “I didn’t find it. I was here with someone. I mean I’ve never been here before, except twice . . . Somebody I picked up.” Mia’s eyes squeezed shut tight as his bugged wide. “I mean, to pick somebody up, not like that. A friend, she works here on the weekends. She says it’s clean and cheap. Reasonable, I meant reasonable.” She blew out a deep breath, thinking that was better. He probably didn’t think she was a slut anymore, just an idiot.
“No, cheap is fine,” he said, nodding at her rambling, edging toward the door. “I guess I’ll go check in.”
She followed, hoping she could use the phone and call someone to retrieve her, or at least make her presence known to the clerk. That way he can help identify him in a lineup. Or worse, maybe he can just identify my body. Oh God, what am I thinking? What am I doing here?
A less-than-congenial clerk, engrossed in a box of candy bars, took Flynn’s money and shoved a room key at him, all the while cramming a Zagnut bar into his mouth. “ ’Round back, private entrance. No smoking. Checkout’s at eleven sharp.” He licked coconut-covered peanut butter from his fingers and turned back to the television.
Flynn leaned over to Mia and whispered, “Clean and cheap; guess she never said anything about friendly, huh? I’m going to drop off my stuff and then I’ll take you home, okay?”
She nodded as he walked out, feeling badly about her sudden ax-murderer judgment. Just the same, she’d save him the trouble and call a friend. “Excuse me, could I make a call from here? It’s local. And a restroom; is there a bathroom I could use?” The sudden onset of nerves plus the beer made the need for a bathroom immediate.
“No calls from the desk. Your room’s got a phone in it. Use that one,” he grumbled, flipping from The X-Files to a Braves game, unwrapping another Zagnut.
“Well, what about the bathroom?” Even if she couldn’t use the phone, there was no way she was going to make it all the way back to town without a potty break.
“Hey, you know, we got all the modern conveniences here. Your room’s got a toilet too. This one’s broken,” he said, pointing his candy bar at a sign that stated as much.
“You don’t understand. You see, we’re not together. I mean, the room is for him, but I’m not staying with him.”
With his jaw chomping away at the chewy center, the clerk flung his chubby head back as if Mia was keeping him from savoring the best part of the candy bar. “Look, lady, it’s simple. If you want to use a phone or a toilet, you have two choices: Either use the ones in your room or rent another room.”
I can’t use the one in the room because I’ve brought this total stranger, who lives on a motorcycle and has half a name, down this desolate road and now I need to call someone to come and get me. Plus I have to pee like a racehorse, you ignorant ass! But no such words would come. She couldn’t find the wherewithal to admit her foolishness or to confront this latest stranger who was hell-bent on redirecting her life. She tried once more to persuade him. “Listen, you don’t seem to realize—”
“Lady, what the hell do you want from me!” he yelled, throwing the rest of the candy bar onto the desk.
A deep and equally loud voice broke from the doorway. “Mia, are you all right? What’s going on?”
She turned to find Flynn staring down the clerk, looking as if he might leap across the counter. Signs and signals crossed in her head. He seemed so ready to come to her aid. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong.” She gulped, watching his pale blue eyes sear a hole through the clerk’s chewy center.
“She needs to take a piss and she doesn’t seem to want to use the toilet in your room. Could you help her out?” he groused, sneering at them.
Flynn took two huge steps across the lobby and stood inches from the clerk’s pudgy face, which suddenly went marshmallow white. “Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Did you eat your manners along with that box of candy bars?”
“Flynn,” she said calmly, taking him by the arm. “It’s okay. Really,” she coaxed, giving him a gentle tug. “Let’s just go.”
Flynn looked at her and then back toward the clerk, whose petrified face pleaded for him to take Mia’s advice. A hissing sigh e
scaped his throat as he turned and walked out.
“Sorry. I’m sorry I lost my temper, but he shouldn’t have been rude to you. There’s no excuse to talk to a girl like you . . . like that,” he said, his hand gesturing toward the door. “And you shouldn’t do that either,” he added, turning his attention to her.
“Do what?” she asked, wondering if she was next in line for a tongue lashing. But his voice had calmed, and he now spoke firmly.
“Let anybody talk to you like that. It’s important to stand your ground—especially when the other person is so obviously out of line.” She nodded, considering the advice. “Come on, I’ll take you home now.”
Mia realized she was still holding his arm. His skin pulsated with heat and she could feel the residual quiver of a muscle. The encounter had upset him more than her.
“Oh, that’s right, you need to use the bathroom. Tell you what. I’ll wait outside. You go ahead,” he said, holding out the key. “And lock the door.”
Her fear vanished, instantly replaced by profound guilt. She wanted to crawl under the closest rock. She struggled for something to smooth it over. “Um, listen, Flynn. It’s hot, I’m thirsty. Can I buy you a beer?”
His remaining anger faded and his face softened. “Me? You’re talking to me? You want to have a beer with me?”
“Yeah, are we not speaking the same language? It’s not that difficult of a question . . .”
There was no beer available, but there was a soda machine on the side of the house. He insisted she take the key and use the bathroom. Although Mia had made the offer, he bought two Cokes. A rickety picnic table sat under a grove of Georgia pines, the area well lit by a security lamp. Flynn settled on top of the table, figuring she’d be relieved, not only to have used the facilities but to find him making use of the outdoor amenities, such as they were.
“Hey, there,” he greeted as she made her way toward him. “You look more comfortable. Hop up, it’s a great view. There’s some heat lightning to the west,” he said, offering her the can of soda.
Beautiful Disaster Page 4
