Riveted

by Jay Crownover

  “Who cares why she did it? Wheeler is a good guy and this is the second time she’s had no regard for how her actions will hurt him. There is no excuse that can justify what she’s done.” And I’d told her the same thing in no uncertain terms last night. I was pissed at her, and her tears and woe-is-me attitude over a situation of her own making only served to make me angrier as I talked to her. Eventually I’d had to hang up on her, which hadn’t stopped her from calling or texting me well into the wee hours of the morning.

  Church lifted an eyebrow at me as I made my way to where he had stashed the breakfast goodies. I wasn’t fully awake yet but my stomach sure was. I didn’t hold back a delighted squeal when I found frosted doughnuts in the paper bag. I was going to need to figure out a way to fit a treadmill in my apartment after all of this road trip food but I wanted to eat now and worry about my ass later.

  “Seems to me if she isn’t typically a bad person then there is more to why she did what she did than her getting tired of the same cock. There’s usually a reason why good folks do bad things.” He was watching me carefully and I felt like his somber words were some kind of warning I was supposed to heed.

  I popped a sugary sweet bite of dough into my mouth and chewed while we stared at each other. It tasted like heaven and the jolt of sugar was enough to kick my sluggish system awake.

  “I don’t care what her reason is. I care that she hurt someone I care about and I’m pissed that she was only thinking of herself, not how her actions could affect the rest of the people in her life that love both her and Wheeler.” I sounded sharp and slightly petulant but I didn’t care. I couldn’t imagine Kallie saying anything to me that would make the circumstances she had set in motion okay. I didn’t care where her head was at while she was carrying on behind Wheeler’s back, all I cared about was that her thoughts hadn’t been on the man that had given her everything or the family that had claimed him as one of their own.

  Church lumbered to his feet and ran a hand over his closely cropped hair. His eyes were serious and intent as he told me, “Her reasons might not matter to you, but they could be everything to her. Sometimes people make choices that hurt other people because they feel like it would hurt the people they care about even more if they didn’t make that choice.”

  I cocked my head to the side as the chocolate frosting from my doughnut started to melt all over my fingers. “Are we still talking about my sister, Church?” I wondered if he was trying to explain why he had felt compelled to stay away from home for so long in a roundabout way.

  “We’re just talking, Dixie. That’s what friends do.” He looked at me, intensity and things I couldn’t decipher burning bright in his brilliant eyes as he made his way to the door. “Finish your breakfast. I want to see if we can get to at least the Arkansas border today.”

  I licked along the side of my thumb and heard him suck in a sharp breath. I grinned at him and nodded. “Thanks for breakfast. Chocolate is my favorite.”

  He gave me another look, this one followed by a smirk, and then disappeared out the door with a snort. He didn’t smile but there was definitely a lip twitch involved. I would take what I could get and consider the almost grin a win for the morning.

  He was already on the bike with the motor running when I made my way to the parking lot. I had the leathers on so I wouldn’t have to take any unnecessary trips to scary bathrooms and he tilted his chin in approval. He had on mirrored sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes anymore, but something instinctive told me that he more than liked the way the leather covered my legs and framed the part of me that fluttered and went damp as soon as I put a hand on his rock-hard shoulder so I could get the leverage I needed to climb on behind him. By the end of this trip I was going to be nothing more than one giant orgasm waiting to happen. He was going to accidentally brush up against me and I was going to make a fool of myself as all that desire finally burst out unable to be contained. I was bound to look like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally, only my public climax was going to be very real because there was no faking that he turned me on and inside out.

  I chuckled at the image, which had Church whipping his head around to look at me questioningly. I shook my head and smiled at him. There was no way I was going to pass along the information that all it would take for him to turn me into a sexual time bomb was the touch of his hands. Something told me he would use that intel to his advantage. His eyebrows winged up so that I could see them over the rims of his sunglasses but he turned back around and guided us back onto the highway. We had a long way to go, both in miles and in what it was going to take for Church to actually find his way back home, and there wasn’t any time to waste.

  Kansas was a straight shot, and I made it almost all the way through the entire state before we had to stop. This time Church wouldn’t let me out of his sight, so I had to go to the bathroom while he waited outside the door. I wanted to tell him it was overboard, but honestly I felt better knowing I could do my thing without worrying about what was happening beyond the closed door. The truck stop had a diner attached to it, so we stopped for lunch and he ordered a steak that was the size of my head. When I questioned him he said he was used to a high protein diet and that typically he worked out enough that he needed the fuel. I was already burned-out on all the greasy food we’d been eating, so I tried to order a salad. Unfortunately, the only salad they offered was driven towards trucker taste, so it came in a fried tortilla bowl with taco meat, cheese, and sour cream on it. It was really good but I could feel the waistband of my jeans getting tighter with each bite.

  I was rumbling about calories and the lack of healthy options on the menu when Church cut me off with a raised hand and a furious scowl. “Do you like the way you look?”

  His sharply spoken question surprised me into silence. I nodded slowly and mumbled, “I do. I mean my hair can be a pain in the ass and when I was younger I hated having freckles everywhere but for the most part I know I’m pretty cute.”

  He nodded at me and his scowl turned into a leer. “You are very fucking cute. There is something to love about all women, no matter what form they take, so eat your salad and enjoy your chocolate doughnuts. If a man can’t appreciate what’s right in front of him then he isn’t a man that was raised right and he doesn’t deserve a taste of that sweet skin, no matter how much or how little of it there may be.”

  I was so stunned by his words that I let my fork fall back into my very unhealthy salad with a click. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever said so many words in a row before.” Minus last night when he was filling me in on his tragic family dynamics. “Leave it up to you to pick some of the best words I’ve ever heard to be the ones you go with when you decide to finally venture into small talk.”

  He made a noise that might have been a laugh low in his throat. “I grew up not being white enough for the white kids and not black enough for the black kids. I had grandparents that wouldn’t acknowledge me and a mother that looked like a supermodel but dressed and lived like she was an orphan, because she pretty much was after she had me. She had a baby with one guy of color and then married another one even after she knew firsthand how difficult interracial relationships could be in the south. As far as we’ve progressed as a nation when it comes to acceptance there is still a long, long way to go. You gotta like the way you look because how you look tells your story and fuck anyone that doesn’t want to appreciate that.”

  I was stunned into silence, so all I could do was gape at him with my mouth hanging open. I looked ridiculous, but I couldn’t get my head around someone as gorgeous and as perfectly built as he was ever being anything other than admired and sought after. Even now in this nowhere truck stop, every pair of female eyes was on him . . . and some of the men couldn’t look away either. Not all of the male attention was admiring. Truck stops in the middle of nowhere the farther south we went meant more and more narrow-eyed looks and tight-lipped scowls were sent his way. They seemed even worse when we walked side by side and when h
e put his hand on my lower back to usher me into the booth across from him.

  “I . . . well, I can’t believe anyone could ever look at you and not want the story behind those eyes. You’re beautiful.” He was, but it was the hardness in his face and the scars that dotted his arms and that peeked out of the collar of his shirt that begged to tell their tale.

  “Sometimes all people can see is what’s different, but those differences are what make us who we are. For instance you might fight with your hair but I’ve never met anyone else whose hair I want my hands in all the time. It’s soft and I like the way it feels when your curls don’t want to let me go. I like that you look a little bit like a lion when you get up in the morning even though I know you’re a pussycat. And don’t even get me started on the freckles.” He gave me a look that clearly indicated he would like to find out exactly how many I had and where they stopped. The answer was a lot and they didn’t. I had them all over, so if he wanted to find them all he was going to be a very, very busy man.

  “Can you just keep talking? I’ve always liked your voice but it’s even better when you’re saying such amazing things.” It really was. I fell for him in an instant when he went out of his way to make sure I was okay. I knew then that he was it for me, but now that he was letting me actually know him it stung even more to realize that my heart had chosen wisely even though his still couldn’t see what was standing right in front of him. He was a good guy, smart and resilient. I didn’t want anyone to ever look past how amazing and important he was again.

  We finished lunch in relative silence after and I wasn’t surprised when he appeared to be done talking for the day. He had used up his daily allotment of words to make sure I knew that he liked the way I looked and that I should like the way I looked just as much. In his own subtle way he also addressed the fact that he wasn’t oblivious to the stares and side-eyed looks coming from the people in the truck stop that weren’t interested in his story. He knew they were there, he just didn’t care.

  I wanted to kiss him again, instead I climbed back on the bike behind him and settled in as we pushed our way through Kansas City and all the way through Missouri until we both agreed it was time to stop right before we hit the Arkansas border. We would roll into Lowry late tomorrow afternoon at the pace we were going, which worked well since Elma Mae was due to go home from the hospital the following afternoon.

  The ride today had gone much smoother than the hours spent on the asphalt last night. There weren’t any almost accidents, and we were lucky that the weather had stayed temperate and dry. I needed to stretch my legs and work out some of the numbness in my backside when we stopped. Church found a tiny little place that looked like it was a bunch of individual cabins for us to spend the night. Unfortunately, there was a celebration happening in town called the Ozark Festival, so there was only a single room available for the night. The entire town was packed with tourists in for the event and it was one of the only vacancies. The festival brought in people from all over the Ozarks and was a pretty big deal. The guy that handed us the room key mentioned we should plan on waiting if we headed out for dinner anywhere. I did a quick search on my phone to see if there were any other options and came up with nothing unless we wanted to ride another fifty miles down the highway.

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage sharing a bed with him and keeping my hands to myself, but I was a grown-up and told myself I could make it through one night unscathed . . . maybe.

  “I need a beer, and maybe a shot . . . or three.” Definitely more than one if I was going to lie next to that big, hard body all night and not touch. I could drink until I blacked out ensuring I would keep my hands to myself and not whisper into the dark all the ways my heart longed for him. “We drove past a couple bars when we pulled into town that are within walking distance. Wanna grab a drink?”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” He sounded gruff and leery of my plan.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun. I promise your virtue, and the rest of you, is safe with me.” I smiled at him and reached out so I could grab his hand. I started walking towards the road, thinking he would oblige me, but was pulled up short when his massive frame didn’t budge an inch.

  “It’s not my virtue I’m worried about. It’s all those Confederate flags hanging out of the back of the pickup trucks parked out front.” I paused and frowned at him over my shoulder. “I’m used to not being safe, it’s you I would worry about.”

  That wasn’t something I even noticed, but I wasn’t surprised he had and his words had my tummy twisting into knots. Every single time he mentioned keeping me safe or taking care of me it made that thing I knew, that knowledge I had that he was it for me, settle deeper into my bones. It made me want to kick myself for wasting a second on those stupid dating apps. I couldn’t trick my stubborn heart into thinking there was a substitute for the man that didn’t want it. When the heart knew, it just knew. “Okay. Well, I guess we can find a liquor store and have happy hour in our room.” I didn’t want to put him in a situation where he was uncomfortable or unappreciated. He was a lot bigger than me but I really wanted to shield him and protect him from some of that ugliness that he’d experienced throughout his life.

  He grunted and gave his head a shake. “No, let’s just go to the bar. I’ll be fine and I’ll make sure you’re fine.” Something in his tone told me that it probably wouldn’t be fine and he was lying through his teeth.

  “Really, I just want a drink. I don’t care where it comes from.” I yelped as his fingers curled around mine where I was holding him and he started to march up the side of the road practically hauling me along behind him. There was no way I could keep up with his long-legged gait, so I ended up almost having to jog to keep pace with him.

  “I haven’t been around the good ole boys in a long time. It’s probably good to have a refresher course before we hit Lowry and it can’t hurt anything for you to see what you very well might be up against when we cross into the city limits. Jules used to have to come and get me from school for fighting all the time. Now he’d have to come get me out of jail if someone rubbed me the wrong way.”

  I tried to pull him to a stop so I could urge him to go back to the cute little cabin with me but now he was a man on a mission. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to teach me a lesson or prove something to himself, but either way it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. All I wanted was a drink, not to be caught in the middle of one of his memories or a bad memory in the making.

  I felt him stiffen the minute we pushed through the doors. I saw his back go board straight and the way his shoulders braced like the ceiling was going to fall down around us. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew that if I could the expression on it would be fierce enough to keep anyone from venturing too close to us. However, as we walked farther inside the honky-tonk it was clear the loud country music wasn’t going to stop playing. None of the patrons stopped the conversations they were having, and the bouncer sitting at the door much like Church did at my bar didn’t flick an eyelash or even shift his weight. The only person that seemed to care about us at all was the blonde cocktail server in shorts that were way too short who swung by and told us there was a table in the back if we wanted to sit down. She apologized for the crowd, mentioned the festival, and told me she liked my tank top after mentioning they had a two-for-one special on Patrón.

  I ordered a round before we sat down and gave Church a look from under my eyebrows as he sat sulkily and silently across from me, eyes darting around the room like he was waiting for a confrontation that didn’t seem like it was in any hurry to find him. The waitress smiled at him exactly the same way I would if I was the one dropping off his bourbon, lots of teeth, lots of eye contact, and enough of an invitation that I was now also scowling. She hurried about to take care of the rest of her tables as Church’s gaze found its way back to mine.

  I let the silence drag on through the first two shots but by the time the blonde brought the third I had settled
enough that I was brave enough to ask. “So I take it this isn’t your usual experience in a place like this?”

  I tossed the third shot back and chased it with a swig of beer. My head was starting to get a little fuzzy and my limbs a little loose.

  He picked up his glass and gave the amber liquid a little taste, his multicolored eyes seeming to swirl together like an abstract painting. “Been in a lot of places around the world. I learned you never know what to expect when you walk into any place not looking much like the locals.”

  I frowned a little bit and licked at the salt I had poured on the back of my hand I’d used to chase my tequila shot with. I made a face as I sucked on a slice of lime. “That sounds exhausting. Being on alert all the time, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  He grunted at me. “Fun doesn’t have anything to do with it.” He didn’t sound bitter about the fact, just matter-of-fact and resigned. It was the way it had always been for him and he didn’t expect it to be any different no matter where he was. “If you don’t plan for the worst and you’re caught with your ass hanging out in a bad situation there is no one to blame but yourself. Especially if you know firsthand how bad it can get.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him and licked my lips. “What about plan for the worst but expect the best? Why can’t you have a plan for if it goes bad but go into a situation ready to experience all the good things it may have to offer?”

  He made a noise low in his throat and picked up his drink so that it covered his lickable lips. “I know my way around bad like the back of my hand, good not so much.”