“You have a gun?”
“Not yet. I was hoping you’d take me to buy my own.”
He gave a small grunt of approval, took off his ball cap and raked his fingers through his short hair. I finally saw his eyes closer. Light brown with a green circle around the iris, streaked with gold. They were beautiful.
“You probably want a pink one,” he teased.
I smiled brightly. “How’d you know?”
“Call it a hunch.”
***
The only place to buy a gun was about twenty miles away in Roseburg, he told me as he got into the truck with another huff because I still wouldn’t let him help me up. When would he get it? I didn’t need help to plant my ass cheeks in the seat of his truck.
“If you buy one, there’s a waiting period of twenty-four hours.”
“Okay. I can get Morgan to take me to pick it up tomorrow.”
He put the truck in drive, leaving the target range behind us. “I’ll take you. I get off at six tomorrow. We’ll go get your gun and practice for a little while afterward.”
I nodded. “That would be great. Thanks, C.”
“C?”
“Yeah. I’m B, so you’re C.”
“You’ll forever think of this when you hear the term BC—it’ll stand for ‘Before Colt’.”
I rolled my eyes and started singing Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain”.
He chuckled as he drove through town. “That song was about him, so why’s she accusing him of being vain?”
It was my turn to laugh.
Colt put his hand on my thigh. “I love the sound of your voice. No wonder you’re in a Vegas show, B.”
I smiled, my entire body warming from his touch. “Thanks,” I croaked, my throat suddenly dry.
He kept his eyes trained on the road, removing his hand from my leg and squeezing the steering wheel instead. “You wanna have dinner with me? Roseburg has a few places.”
“Sure. I’ll text Morgan and see if she wants me to order dinner for her.”
I busied myself with texting Morg. Colt nudged me. “You can tell me what has you so scared over dinner.”
My fingers stilled over the screen.
“You can trust me, B.”
I swallowed. “I know.”
***
Briar Ridge Gun and Pawn was a tiny store, but every inch of the walls held firearms of some sort. They were in stands in the display cases. Tiny guns. Enormous guns. Shitballs, there were guns everywhere. This was a gun enthusiast’s wet dream.
With his hand on the small of my back, Colt introduced me to Harm, the owner of the establishment. Harm, a man who looked to be about Willy’s age, with a shiny bald head and a white mustache that curled up to meet the wire rims of his glasses, reached his hand out for me to shake. He was so sweet. “What can I get for ya, son? And how’ve your folks been? Been too long since I seen your snake of a daddy!”
Colt laughed. “They’re doing good. Dad’s thinking about retiring.”
Harm chuckled. “He’s been thinking about retiring for four years. Loves what he does too much to hang it up.”
“I guess so,” Colt started. “Do you have any .38s in pink, Harm?”
His eyes lit up. “You buying a gun, Brooklyn?”
“Yeah. He’s teaching me how to use it,” I replied, nudging Colt in the arm.
“Just so happens that I have a .38 in pink. Taurus Ultra Lite, too! Want to see if it fits?”
I looked at Colt and mouthed the word ‘Fits?’
He leaned in close while Harm rifled around beneath one of the counters. “See if it feels good, B.” I’ll tell you what felt good: his breath on my ear. Holy shit. Maybe Morg was right. Friends with benefits could be a good thing. Friendly rebound sex. Erasing Mopy Dick from my memory, along with all the other memories BC (Before Colt). I sighed.
“You all right, B?” He smirked, grabbing my side and jerking me into his own.
“I’m fine.” I straightened and tried to pull away, but he held me tightly. When Harm turned around, his bushy white eyebrows raised, taking us both in.
“Well, I’ll be!”
Harm left it at that and got to business showing me the pink handgun. It was an automatic and Colt promised to show me how to load the cartridges, clean it, yada, yada. “I’ll take it.”
Too much paperwork and seven hundred-eighty dollars on my credit card later, I was one step away from having my own gun!
It wasn’t until we were seated at Ginny’s Family Restaurant that I realized what I’d done. “Oh, shit. Oh, no. I’m so stupid.” Hyperventilating at dinner would not make the friends-with-benefits conversation with Colt that I’d rehearsed in my mind on the drive over go well. We’d just been given tall glasses of water, so I shoved my straw into the glass and tried to inhale as much as I could. Tears threatened to spill over.
Morgan and I would have to leave now.
He could track it.
But could he really?
Did he have that capability?
I used my credit card. Morgan told me that Riley said not to use it; not to leave a paper trail or an electronic one. And I forgot. In a moment of passion with that pink Taurus, I forgot about him—which was crazy because he was the reason I needed that pink pistol to begin with!
Colt moved. He was seated in the booth across from me and now he sat beside me, his thigh against mine. “Breathe.” He pulled my face up from my drink and held it in front of his own. “Breathe, B.”
I nodded, the tears escaping and streaking hot down my face.
“I’m so stupid!”
He pulled me into his shoulder and let me cry. The server and everyone else probably thought I was a complete mental case.
When I finally composed myself, I dabbed at my eyes with the paper napkin. “Now,” Colt said, rubbing circles into my shoulder. “You’re gonna tell me everything.”
So I did.
I told him about working for Manny. I told him about Peter and Kate and admitted that I was a vandal, that the Good Samaritan in me didn’t volunteer for Habitat, but was ordered to make restitution via community service (and of course to pay back every cent of the damage that I caused to Peter’s vehicular baby). I told Colt about him, about the notes, the roses, the weird pendant and coin stamped with the snake symbol and how he broke into the only place I felt safe, only to try to invade Shane and Morgan’s house too. I told him about the trip to New York and how he found me there. I explained how I tossed our phones into the busy highway when Morgan helped me disappear.
He sat silently, taking it all in; his eyes locked on mine as they kept leaking all of the pent-up tension from the past several months.
When I was finished, he hugged me tightly to him. “Don’t worry, B. We’ll figure it all out.”
“We?”
“Yeah. We.”
He placed a soft, warm kiss on my forehead and when I felt better, we ordered dinner and then ate side by side in companionable silence. I could almost see his mind working out the problem. I just hoped he would find a solution, as no one else had been able to.
“I think we’ll have to leave now,” I admitted as he helped me into the cab of his truck. I was too spent to fight him on it.
“Nah. You just got here. I promise to help you figure it all out. Besides, Morgan’s father isn’t the only one with connections around here.”
When he steered the truck into his driveway and put it in park, I suddenly got nervous. What if he was coming? Colt walked me to the door and made sure I was safe inside before walking away.
It was hard to tell Morgan that I was an idiot, but I had to do it. I put her in danger, too. She relayed the information to Shane, who told Riley, who went to work trying to hide the charge on my account electronically. I didn’t know if it was even possible or if we were wasting our time. Maybe he wasn’t looking for that. Maybe he didn’t have that capability.
But maybe he does.
My conscience even hated me.
&
nbsp; ***
Lunch at Lyra’s was pure torture. I’d decided to watch what I was eating again. It wouldn’t be long before I was back in Vegas with Manny, right? So I picked at my garden salad while Sin stuffed her one-third pound, all beef cheeseburger in her mouth, the juice dripping down her chin. It was gross. And I wanted my chin to match.
The smells alone tortured me; sizzling grease, fatty food. I wanted it all.
Sigh.
Rose was ornery as ever, and we noticed that she focused most of her serving attention on Willy, who happened to be dining out today, too. He was seated at the bar on one of the swiveling stools and Rose kept leaning across that counter at him, pushing her more-than-ample bosom toward his face while he smiled from ear to ear. I couldn’t help but giggle. Dirty old manther.
“What’s on tap for this afternoon?” I asked her, but was almost afraid to hear. That morning, she photographed me by the pool. I mixed paint to match the gentle turquoise of the pool’s liner and the water. Somehow she managed to find the exact shade in a very scandalous bikini while in D.C., and ordered me into cold water at six-thirty AM this morning—because of the lighting, she claimed. I came out shivering. She applied paint where she wanted it and had me lower my legs into the water, holding myself up with my arms. “Look sexy! Part your lips,” she demanded.
I rolled my eyes but complied. About that time, Colt walked out of his condo dressed in his uniform, looking sexy enough to eat. He turned, locked eyes with me, and his mouth gaped open. He stopped in his tracks and then, as if he remembered he was supposed to be walking, started down the steps looking all pissed off.
“What the hell is this?”
“More pictures,” I grumbled.
“That bathing suit barely covers you!”
Morgan giggled and answered, “That’s kind of the point.”
He flashed an aggravated look in her direction, making me laugh. As his eyes raked over my skin, they paused on the droplets of paint.
“Oh! I promise we won’t get paint anywhere. We’re almost finished, and I’ve been careful not to brush up against anything,” I said hurriedly.
The muscle in his jaw worked back and forth. “Six. Be ready at six tonight.”
“Sure. Thanks, C.”
As he walked away, he glanced back and smiled. “Six o’clock, B.”
Morgan waited until he was out of earshot before saying, “B? C? You two sure have gotten close.”
My arms were burning from holding myself up for so long. “Shoot the damn picture, kid. I’m about to break my word and get paint all over the pool.” My arms quaked, waiting for rest. She snapped away.
“Smile at me.”
I tried my best.
“You look constipated, Brook. Smile. A genuine smile. Think of how C looked at you when he came out his door.”
That did it. I remembered his face, the surprise, the broodiness. I smiled.
“Good. You’re done for now.”
“Thank God.” I pulled myself out of the water and flopped onto the grass. I didn’t care if I got paint on the grass. Willy would be mowing it later that week.
***
Rose’s sister Wanda, owner of the illustrious Wanda’s Lounge where the alleged officer groping allegedly took place, was also in the restaurant for lunch. She made her rounds from table to table, making sure to stop at ours.
She plopped down beside me and smiled. She’d dyed her hair an orange-red that somehow suited her freckled complexion. “Word is, you’re a performer.”
Morgan piped up, her face brightening. “She’s amazing! You should hear her sing and see her dance. She’s so—”
“That’s enough, Sin.” I kicked her shin under the table. Hard.
“Ouch!” she squeaked, her eyes wide with anger.
I smiled at Wanda, who watched the pair of us with a grin. She leaned over. “I know most people around here say you’re a stripper, but I’ve seen those shows and I know exactly what you do. If you want to shut them up and show them what you’re all about, I’ve got a stage with your name on it.”
“I don’t know…”
Sin piped up. “Please, Brook. Shut the gossips up!”
“We won’t be staying much longer,” I gritted out.
“All the more reason to leave the place with a memory of you,” Wanda challenged with a wink. “Friday’s open.”
“Friday? As in four days from now Friday?”
“Yep,” she said, popping her p.
I glanced at Sin, who nodded, and then to Rose and Willy, who had turned around in their seats and were both giving me a thumbs up. This was a complete set up. On a sigh, I acquiesced. “Fine. Friday. One very short performance, and I’ll need some music. My music.”
“Done. You tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
She reached over my plate and snatched up my cheap phone, entering her contact information. “Text me.”
I promised to do so and Wanda stood up. Before moving to the other table, she loudly announced to the entire restaurant that Brooklyn Harris, Vegas Super Star, would be performing a Burlesque number on Friday at ten PM. Holy shit. She turned to me and winked. “Wouldn’t want you to change your mind.”
Word sure did travel fast around here. Who needed newspapers, Internet, or social media when you had Wanda’s big mouth?
I was the only occupant at the Inn and Out, judging by the keys on the pegboard behind the ridiculous-looking woman who stood across the counter from me. She chewed her gum like a cow chewed cud. Thick. Rolling. Revolting.
“Has anyone rented here recently?” I questioned, looking around the tiny office.
“Just a couple of girls who’ve apparently decided to take up residence here in Swift Rapids. We don’t get much traffic through town.”
“Why do you stay open?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
“I’m inquisitive, that’s all. Was one of the women named Brooklyn, by any chance?”
She pursed her lips before telling me, “I think so. Do you know her or something?”
I smiled. “Yeah. I’ve been looking for her.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” I threw back at her.
She snorted and asked what sort of room I would like. “What room did Brooklyn stay in? She has impeccable taste.”
The clerk rolled her eyes and handed the key to room one-thirteen to me. “Most of the rooms are the same. This one is special, though. Better dig the quarters out of your car.”
“Quarters?”
She laughed. “You’ll see.”
***
The only information available in the ugliest room I’d ever seen in my entire life was a pamphlet advertising a local restaurant: Lyra’s. I was famished, so I asked the lovely hotel clerk to point me in the direction of Lyra’s and set off down the sidewalk. It was only eight blocks away, and I hadn’t had time to exercise this morning due to the drive in to town.
At almost noon, Lyra’s was busy. Of course, the smells emanating from the place were absolutely mouth-watering. I hoped the food was as good as it smelled. A bell dinged when I pushed the door open and every head turned to see who was walking in. Every set of eyes then zeroed in on me, the new guy, the outsider. I expected no less.
And then, as if by magnetism, my eyes were drawn to Brooklyn Harris. Her hair was short, but longer on one side. It was dark now, but there was no mistaking those lips, those eyes, and the shape of her face or body. It was Brooklyn. My Brooklyn.
A plump waitress sidled up to me, asking where I’d like to sit. There were no seats anywhere that I could see. I looked toward Brooklyn, who nodded in my direction. Her friend Morgan turned around and then scooted out of her booth and sat beside Brooklyn, pinning her in.
Over the sounds of clanging pans, dishes clapping against counters, and customers chatting, Morgan yelled for “Rose.”
Rose was apparently the name of my waitress, becaus
e she left me to stand alone to attend Morgan. After a few words, she promptly returned. “They’ve offered to let you sit with them if you want. The place is pretty full. I didn’t realize that when I asked you where you’d like to sit.”
“Um. Sure. That was nice of them.”
Rose smiled. “You’re not from around here. Just passing through?” She led me toward Brooklyn.
“Something like that.”
I eased into the booth, giving Morgan and Brooklyn a smile. “Thank you for letting me intrude. I just got into town and I’m starving.” Rose placed a menu in front of me and told me she’d be back in a flash.
“We’re sort of new here, too,” Morgan confided. “As small a town as Swift Rapids is, the locals definitely seem leery of outsiders. We’ve been there, huh, Brook?”
Brooklyn was busy studying me. Did she recognize me? Morgan didn’t. Though I’d worked hard to change my appearance. Morgan nudged her and I stared down at the words on my menu, not that I comprehended them. My heart thundered in my ears.
“Yeah. We have.” Brooklyn cut into her salad, spearing some lettuce and part of a tomato.
When Rose returned, I also ordered a salad and a glass of water. Morgan chattered away at how pretty the river and rapids were, about the few shops in town, and how I just missed the Strawberry Festival.
Brooklyn was quiet. She studied me. Was she intrigued?
I always knew it would be like this. She would want me immediately.
And she did.
Morgan giggled. “I’ve been telling you all of this stuff, but I didn’t get your name and I’m not sure you got ours! I’m Morgan and this is Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn? I thought her name was Brook.”
Waving me off, Morgan explained, “Just her nickname.”
I nodded. “I’m Archer Jennings.”
“Where are you from?” Morgan asked.
“Ohio,” I lied. “I was on a business trip to D.C. and decided to take the scenic route home. To tell the truth, Swift Rapids is beautiful. I added a few vacation days to the trip just so I could enjoy the solitude. Life gets hectic sometimes.”
Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series) Page 9
