Road to Desire

by Piper Davenport

  I smiled. I loved my brother, even when he was annoying. “Starting to?”

  He chuckled. “I’m in the middle of something; can you hang out for a while?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll grab a cab.”

  “Which will cost you the same as a phone,” he said.

  “Point taken big brother. I greatly thank you for your astute observation.”

  “Grab a cab to the station and I’ll drive you home from there.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll head home.”

  “Dani,” he said with a sigh.

  “Elliot,” I mimicked, and smiled. “Seriously. It’s all good. I promised I’d call you and I called you. I might work with five-year-olds, but I’m not one, so don’t worry.”

  “Oh, you’re funny. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Swing by later if you want. I’m just going home. I have to be at work early tomorrow, so it’ll be an early night for me.”

  “How about I grab you a burner and then I’ll order you a decent phone later.”

  “Thanks, Ell. I’ll pay you back,” I said.

  “We can argue about that later. I have to go.”

  “Okay, ’bye.” I hung up and slipped behind the desk in search for a phonebook.

  “YOU NEED SOMETHIN’ darlin’?”

  I jumped (again) and turned to find myself practically chin to navel with the very large man Booker had been speaking to earlier. I looked up and grimaced. He was blond with deep blue eyes and a full beard that begged to be touched. I refrained. Instead, I tried for friendly. “Hi. I’m Dani.”

  “Hi, Dani,” he said, and smiled.

  “Hi,” I repeated, stepping back for space, but only managing to run into the lip of the desk. I refused to wince in his presence, but I did bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.

  “You said that.”

  “Um, yeah. I did. Great observation skills.” Ohmigod, he is not a five-year-old. Get it together, Dani. “Um, sorry if I wasn’t supposed to be back here, I was looking for a phonebook.”

  “You’re looking for a phonebook,” he said, and stepped closer to me.

  I mean, really. Where the hell was I going to go? He’d just boxed me into a corner. I took a deep breath. “Yes. A phonebook. Do you have one? I need to call a cab.”

  “You need to call a cab.”

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I need to call a cab. My brother can’t pick me up. He’s still at the station.” Why did I feel the need to offer so much information?

  “Station?” Mack frowned. “As in police station?”

  Crap!

  I bit my lip. “Will you please let me by? You’re making me nervous and all I want to do is to call someone to pick me up and take me home.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Booker said as he walked back inside, a scowl on his face directed at “big biker man” in front of me. “And get the fuck away from her, Mack. You can see she’s freaked.”

  “Did she tell you her brother’s a cop?” Mack demanded.

  “Detective, actually,” I corrected and then dropped my head. I needed to shut the hell up.

  “Move the hell away from her,” Booker repeated. I took a minute to look at him and his expression was a little scary. He gave his friend a look like he would kill him if he didn’t do as he said. Instead of making me nervous, it made me feel protected. Another clear indication here was something inherently wrong with me.

  Mack grinned, raising his hands in surrender as he stepped away from me. I skittered around the desk and back out in the open, keeping my purse in front of me… for what I’m not sure. I just felt a little protected somehow.

  “Come on. I’ll take you home,” Booker said.

  “No, it’s okay. If you can just call me a cab, it’ll be fine.”

  Booker shook his head. “We’re closed, darlin’, and it’ll take a while for a taxi, so let me just take you home.”

  I swallowed.

  “What?” he asked.

  I glanced at Mack and then back at Booker. “I’m… um… aren’t bikes really dangerous?”

  Booker seemed to share another secret look with Mack before they both burst out laughing.

  I pulled my purse closer. “Well, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, then I definitely want to call a cab.”

  Apparently, I’m freaking hilarious when I’m scared out of my ever-blessed mind, because Mack laughed harder.

  “I’ve got my truck,” Booker said, once he’d sobered.

  “With or without a tarp in the back?”

  Booker frowned. “What?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.” I figured if he was going to murder me there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do about it at this point. “Yes, a ride home would be much appreciated.”

  Booker nodded and waved his hand toward the roll-up door.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said to Mack and headed outside.

  “You too, babe,” Mack said to my back.

  Booker led me to his Ford F-150, and I turned to face him. “Can I borrow your phone please?”

  “What?”

  “Your phone. May I borrow it for a second?”

  He reached into his pocket and handed it to me. “Knock yourself out.”

  I stepped in front of the truck and took a photo of it, along with the license plate, texting the photos to Kim so she’d know who was driving me home and when I was leaving. At least if he did murder me, they’d be able to track down my killer.

  “Thanks,” I said, and handed the phone back to him.

  He smiled his sexy smile again and pulled open my door. I wasn’t expecting his gallantry as he waited for me to climb inside, but I covered my surprise. I didn’t realize badass biker men did that kind of thing.

  Booker climbed in beside me and started the engine while I buckled up. He didn’t say anything as he guided the truck away from Arbor Lodge and I took a moment to take in his ride. It was new with all the bells and whistles, so to speak. Leather seats, wood inlay, and a kick-ass stereo system… at least it looked like a kick-ass stereo system. It was currently off.

  About ten minutes passed and I had about all the silence I could handle. “Your real name’s not Booker, is it?” He glanced at me and shook his head before focusing on the road again. “Are you going to tell me your real name?”

  “Austin Carver.”

  “Oh,” I said, unable to hide my surprise.

  He smiled. “Not what you were expecting?”

  “Not really, no. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice name. Sweet sounding, but I guess I expected you be to Maverick or something like that.”

  “Maverick?”

  “What’s wrong with Maverick?”

  “Only a pussy would ever go by Maverick.”

  “What if that’s the name his parents gave him?” I challenged.

  “Then, if he weren’t a pussy, he’d change it.”

  I bit back a smile. “I won’t tell Maverick’s mom you said that.”

  “You know a Maverick?” he asked.

  I nodded. “He’s one of my kids. I teach kindergarten.”

  “Fuck me. Of course you do,” he grumbled, and pulled onto the freeway.

  I gathered my purse close to me again. For some reason, the fact he didn’t seem to like my choice of employment bothered me. It shouldn’t. He didn’t know me and he was probably a criminal for Pete’s sake, but I was the one who felt embarrassed.

  “What’s your group’s name?” I soldiered on, my inability to stay silent when I was nervous working against me.

  “My group?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Your club. Whatever.”

  He studied the road again. “Dogs of Fire.”

  “Why did you pick that?” I asked.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Why did your group… I mean, club, pick that?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “You don’t know why they picked it?” I studied his profile and saw his
jaw lock. “Sorry, not my business.”

  He neither agreed nor disagreed.

  “Do you need my address?” I was unbelievably desperate for conversation, apparently.

  “I have it.”

  “Right,” I mumbled. Of course he did. I’d written it down for him. I studied him again. God, he was beautiful. I licked my lips and focused back on the road. “So, do you work at Big Ernie’s?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “So, it’s not your regular job?”

  “No.”

  “You’re obviously not a mechanic,” I mused.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re too clean,” I blurted out. “I mean, your hands aren’t caked with black oil and stuff. Sorry. Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  He chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

  “You don’t like silence, do you?”

  “I like silence… just not when I’m nervous. Crap. Never mind. Ignore me.”

  “Babe, I’ve been trying to ignore you since the second I saw your piece of shit car crawling down my street,” he said.

  I gasped, my irritation rising to dance with my nerves. “Well, you didn’t need to come and rescue me. I didn’t ask you to.” He chuckled again and I blinked back tears, feeling both angry and insecure at the same time. “I’m sorry if my talking bugged you. I was just trying to be friendly,” I continued, because, seriously, I was obviously a glutton for punishment. “It’s what nice people do when other people help them. They ask them about their life and find common ground in an effort to make conversation.”

  “Is that what they do?” he asked.

  “Typically, yes,” I whispered, and turned toward the window.

  I managed to keep my thoughts to myself as we drove into Hazel Dell and down the private driveway into my apartment complex. Not the greatest part of town, but also not the worst. It was what I could afford and it worked for now.

  “This is me,” I said, pointing to the stairway that led to my second floor unit.

  “I’ll walk you up.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I know,” he said, and climbed out of the truck.

  Gathering my purse, I pulled my jacket closer around me and pushed open the door. Booker stood on the other side and, again, waited for me before closing the door and walking me upstairs. I unlocked my apartment door and pushed it open, flipping the light on before stepping inside.

  “Thank you for everything,” I said.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow or Friday about your car.”

  Crap, right. I was going to have to pay for my stupid car to be fixed. “Yes. Um, I forgot to ask. Do you take credit cards?”

  He frowned, but then nodded his head. “Yeah, babe, we take credit cards.”

  I relaxed. “Okay, good. Thank you. Well, it was nice to meet you, Austin. Thanks again for everything.”

  He gave me a chin lift in response and turned and sauntered down the stairs. I know for a fact he sauntered, because I leaned out my front door and watched him leave. His long, muscular legs and perfect butt made me sigh, and I realized he probably heard me, so I ducked back inside and closed and locked my door, leaning against it to catch my breath.

  * * *

  Booker

  Booker was fucked. Royally fucked. The second he saw the pretty little blonde trying to force her car down the street, he’d known he’d help her. Couldn’t really stop himself. She was gorgeous. Petite, curvy, big tits, nice ass, and she smelled incredible, but it was the glasses that sent him over the edge. He could envision her in thigh-highs, pearls, and those glasses while she straddled and rode him.

  When he’d coaxed her out of her car and she’d started talking, her obvious sense of humor showing even though she was terrified, he’d watched in fascination as every emotion she was feeling showed on her face in real time. He couldn’t remember ever meeting a woman more beautiful… and fucking innocent. Kindergarten teacher and daughter of the chief of police. Shit.

  He dialed Mack’s number and then started his truck.

  “Yo.”

  “You got the car over to Ducky’s?”

  “Yeah,” Mack said. “It’s fucked up. Might need to rebuild the engine.”

  “Fuck.” Booker headed onto the freeway. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  He hung up and stared out at the road in front of him trying to figure out how the hell he was gonna get out of this, and whether or not he really wanted to.

  MY DOORBELL RANG an hour after Booker left. I opened the door to my brother who leaned down to kiss my cheek as he handed me a box with a phone inside and stepped into my apartment. My brother was tall, just over six feet, with blond hair and hazel eyes. My girlfriends all had crushes on him, waxing poetic about how much he looked like Brad Pitt.

  “Hi,” I said, and closed the door.

  “Hey. Where’s your car?”

  “One of the guys at the wreckage place is having it towed somewhere to evaluate it. He’s going to call me tomorrow or Friday.” I glanced at the new phone. “Well, he’s going to leave me a message and I’ll call him back since he can’t really call me.”

  Elliot chuckled. “Got it, sis.”

  “I forget you’re smarter than you look.” I grinned. “Want some wine?”

  “I have to go actually. Just wanted to make sure you got home safe. What time do you have to be at school tomorrow?”

  “Seven.”

  “Want me to pick you up?”

  “Oh, yes. Crap. I didn’t even think about how I was getting to work.” I giggled. “I’m a little frazzled.”

  He crossed his arms. “How was the blind date?”

  “Ohmigod, it sucked. So bad. He was boring with a capital B.”

  Elliot chuckled. “I could set you up, you know.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’m done for now. I just want to focus on getting my life back and maybe saving again.”

  My brother’s face darkened. “Asshole.”

  “Yes, I know, Ell, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Em did all she could legally and he’s making restitution.”

  “A hundred bucks a month is bullshit.”

  “I agree. I’m hoping Emily can find more in his financials.”

  Elliot studied me for a few tense seconds. “Okay, I’m going. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

  “Thank you. You’re the best big brother on the planet.”

  He grinned, his body relaxing a bit. “Don’t I know it.”

  He gave me a quick hug and then he was out the door, and I locked up and flopped on the sofa. I pried open the plastic wrapping containing the flip phone, I plugged it in, powered it up and called Kim.

  “This is Kim.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Well, hello ‘me.’” Kim giggled. “Got your text. Brilliant.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I assume you’re home and safe?”

  “No, I’ve been buried alive in a ditch on the side of the road.”

  “Oh, where? I’ll come rescue you.”

  I laughed. “I love how you’ve always got my back.”

  “I’m a giver,” she retorted.

  “On that note, can you give me the number I texted those pictures from, please?”

  “Ah, sure? But you have to tell me why.”

  “One of the guys said he’d call me tomorrow with an update on my car and I want to give him the new number.”

  “Hmm-mm, I bet you do,” she said. “Tell me the real reason.”

  I both loved and hated that my best friend could see right through me. “That is the real reason.”

  “Is he hot? Your ‘the guy’ that’s ‘one of the guys’?”

  Ohmigod… was he hot? That was an understatement. “He’s a thug, Kim.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Yes, he’s good looking… in a rough sort of way, I guess.”

  “Hmm-mm, right,” she
retorted. “I’ll text it to you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you need a ride tomorrow?”

  “You’re willing to come and get me at six-thirty?”

  She gasped. “In the morning? Ah, no. Sorry, I just don’t love you quite that much.”

  I giggled. “I know. Ell’s picking me up.”

  “Oh, how I love him.”

  “I know, babe. Everyone does.”

  “Okay, I’m gonna text you his number and then hit the hay.”

  “Thanks, Kim. See you on Tuesday for lunch, right?”

  “Definitely. ’Bye.”

  “’Bye.”

  I sat on the sofa staring at the phone for what seemed like an eternity before Kim’s text came through. The number popped up on my screen and my heart raced in excitement. It was just after ten and I was typically in bed by now and wondered if he might be too. Maybe he wouldn’t answer and I could leave a message. I bit my lip. I didn’t really know what to do. I felt compelled to call him. Like if I didn’t hear his voice before I went to bed, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  “Dani, you are ridiculous,” I told myself, but it didn’t negate the fact that I was attracted to him. In a big way.

  I set the phone aside and sipped my wine, then picked the phone up again and stared at it. I set it aside again and repeated these actions for several minutes as I contemplated my stupidity. In the end, I chalked it up to the fact that he had my car and I was just calling him to give him information. It didn’t matter that it was past ten on a Thursday night. It was business, so I dialed the number.

  “Yo.”

  “Um, hi. Is this Austin?” I asked. No response, so I glanced at my phone, then put it back to my ear. Maybe I’d dialed wrong. “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.”

  “You got me, Dani.” His voice washed over me and sent a chill down my spine.

  “How did you know it was me?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “No one else calls me Austin.”

  “Oh. Right. Um, I just wanted you to have my new number for when you know what’s wrong with my car.”

  “And you had to tell me that now?”

  I was officially an idiot. “Well, no, I guess not. But it was either now or really early in the morning because I have to be at work at seven and I figured if you were asleep, you wouldn’t answer so I was going to leave a message. I didn’t expect you to pick up.” Crap, I was rambling again.