The Rebel: A Bad Boy Romance

by Aria Ford

  I felt a smile cross my face and looked away quickly, before he saw my expression. It was kind of obvious, what I was thinking. I felt my cheeks get hot.

  “You settling here?” he said. I jumped as his voice brought me back from the border of my fantasizing.

  “Uh, not quite,” I said. “I’m just visiting.”

  “Oh.”

  I wondered, as he settled back into the passenger seat beside me, what he was thinking. He was an odd person. I didn’t really understand why he was so brooding—so rude, actually. Well, that wasn’t my problem, was it? I’d never see him again—or probably not, anyway.

  Oddly, that thought didn’t entirely please me. Part of me wanted to see him again. Let’s face it, part of me wanted to get to know him further. I hadn’t met a man who made me feel like this for years. He was rugged, hard and forceful. And part of me, I had to admit, liked that. I liked being vulnerable sometimes. In my life, there hadn’t been much opportunity to be. He startled me by clearing his throat, then asking: “Who’re you visiting?”

  “My grandpa. He lives on the ranch.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.” I frowned. “Why’d you ask?”

  “Only thinking that it’s a lot of work for an old guy on his own,” he replied. It could have been a rude thing to say, but, oddly, he didn’t say it rudely; only thoughtfully.

  “I guess,” I nodded. “Which is why I’m here.”

  “You?” He laughed.

  I felt the annoyance I’d been feeling earlier rise again. “Yes. Me. Why not?”

  “Well,” he paused, gathering himself. “You’re a girl. How’re you going to help him with that stuff? It’s man’s work.”

  I stared, then I laughed. “Man’s work? Listen, buster, if you’re like that, you can get outta this truck and back to the seventeenth century.” I’d never heard such nonsense. That was too much.

  To my surprise, he chuckled. “Okay. Sorry I spoke.”

  I didn’t say anything. I sat looking out of the front window of the truck, brooding. It was difficult to decide what to say. On the one hand, I liked him. He was different, funny, sexy. But on the other hand, the rudeness and the machismo weren’t doing it for me. This last comment had taken it a bit too far. I was halfway between simply ignoring him and actually leaving him stuck on the roadside, when he cleared his throat.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I turned and looked at him. “Well, you did anyway. But I can overlook it.”

  He chuckled. “I guess that’s the closest we’re going to get to apologizing, eh?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  His eyes looked into mine, and I felt a spark jump between him and me. His eyes were a soft brown, in contrast with the dark hair. Their depths drew me in, drowning me. I felt my whole body respond to them. It was the briefest glance, but it felt like a kind of agreement. We liked each other and he wanted each me like I wanted him.

  When I looked away, focusing on the road again, my heart was thumping and my body was tingling. Was that really true? Or did I just imagine that?

  I sat silently behind the wheel, lost in the rush of blood that pulsed into my brain and, well, into other places too.

  “Turn left here,” he said. His voice was soft and I almost didn’t hear him. I slowed and turned left. Again, there was something between relief for his help and irritation at the way he gave it, that flashed through me. I wasn’t his child.

  I headed on, driving toward the first sight of Sheridan.

  The street was wide, lined with quaintly elegant sandstone buildings. There were tall green trees shading the cars that parked there, or the people who walked along them, taking it slow in the summer heat. I rolled down the window, feeling hot myself.

  “Whew! Is the summer always like this?” I asked.

  He grinned. “No. Mostly it’s worse.”

  I pulled a face at him. He laughed.

  “Right. Now, I asked if you’d help me find my way around. So: can you direct me to the gas station?”

  He grinned. “You just passed it on the way in.”

  I felt my heart thud the way it did when my blood was up and I was going to lose my temper. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know, did I?”

  I drew up to the side of the road, stopped and let my head drop onto the boss of the steering-wheel. When I looked up I found him looking at me with an amused expression.

  “Right,” I said. “I’m hot. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I don’t have much patience right now. And you are draining the last little bit of it out of me. Can you direct us back again?”

  He chuckled. “Yes.” Then, when he seemed to realize I wasn’t kidding, he frowned. “If you’re hungry, we could go for lunch?”

  I blinked. That sounded like a wonderful idea. Something to eat, and this guy to talk to?”

  “Actually, that’d be great,” I said enthusiastically.

  He grinned. “Let’s do it.”

  “Gas first,” I said. The needle was at a quarter and the last thing I wanted was to be stuck on the national road in the middle of nowhere with no gas. As it was, he was proving not to be dangerous, but who knew what other kinds of people I’d run into, alone on my own in this place?

  “Gas first,” he agreed. “Now, it’s a quarter mile back, on the righthand side.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I looked for a place to turn around, headed into a car park, and threw a turn that would have had a driving-school instructor being sick out of the window. Then I headed back onto the road again.

  He laughed. “Well, you don’t let things get in your way, do you?”

  “If you mean the lamp-pole, I did see it,” I commented wryly. “I just wasn’t too bothered about it.”

  He roared with laughter and I found myself looking into those beautiful warm brown eyes. They met mine and held my gaze and I felt my tummy tingle. This guy really is stunning.

  I cleared my throat and drove to the gas-station.

  “Right,” I said when the needle was on full. “Now what?”

  He grinned. “It depends?”

  “On what?” I asked, feeling tired again. If he was going to start playing his tricks again, I didn’t have the energy for it.

  “On what you like eating.”

  “At this point, I like food,” I said bluntly. “If you have somewhere that doesn’t serve extra helpings of food poisoning with every meal, take me there.”

  He grinned. “I think we can manage that. Okay. So, you want to take the first right, then you want to head on up and take the next left…”

  “Tell me as we go along,” I said promptly, and threw the car into the traffic. I was hungry. I was tired. And he was the most interesting and infuriating guy I had ever met.

  “I’m not a GPS,” he muttered. I laughed.

  “You can act like one for the next ten minutes.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s better,” I said. He pulled a face.

  It was only as he directed me to what looked awfully like someone’s uncle’s backyard barbecue that I realized that we were getting on as if we had known each other for my whole life. We’d only just met. It was amazing.

  Maybe it’s because he isn’t challenged by my own big personality.

  Most of the guys I knew found me difficult. Too abrupt, not exactly what you’d call feminine. But he was just fine with it. Even though we had only just met, I already felt as if I could take the gloves off with him and be my true, somewhat-abrasive and ultimately-sassy self. It was a wonderful feeling.

  “Is this it?” I asked.

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he said piously. I laughed.

  “I don’t intend to judge it by its cover. It’s not the cover I’ll be eating, is it?”

  “No,” he agreed. “You’ll be eating something much better than that.”

  “Good.”

  We went in. Inside, the place was actually qu
ite nice, in a rustic, rural kind of way. There was a bar along the back, and tables and chairs out the front. There were some other customers already there—some looked like farmers and some were cowboys. I couldn’t quite believe it. I looked sideways at the place, wondering if the old guy who loaned me the VW hadn’t gotten it mixed up with a time-travel device. It was odd.

  “Hey,” Reese said to the barman. I felt more reassured when I saw a TV behind the bar with a sports-match showing on it. That anchored the place in the right century again.

  “Hey, Reese.” The man nodded politely. “Drink, or something to eat?”

  “Both,” Reese said affably. “We need a table for two.”

  “Oh,” he said, noticing me for the first time. “Oh.”

  Oh, yourself I wanted to say.

  Reese seemed to be enjoying that, which made me cross with him.

  He led me out the back to a table in the shade of a trellis, over which grapevines grew. From here, we could see out over the valley. It was a beautifully-situated place. I smiled.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” I said shyly.

  He smiled. “No problem.” He looked like he was enjoying my pleasure in the surroundings and that made me feel surprisingly happy.

  “So,” I said as the waiter appeared with menus. “What do you do here on the weekend?”

  He shrugged. “Not much, usually. Work on the farm, come in here for a drink and lunch and the sport, go home and work again.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. That sounded like, well, a lot of hard work. “Where’s your ranch?”

  “Next door to Orangehill,” he said with a smug smile. I gave him an exasperated look.

  “You could have said that earlier.”

  “I could have,” he agreed with that same annoying smugness. “Only I wanted to explain how to get there, and that’s tricky. This way, maybe my pickup will be finished by the time we’re through and I can lead you there.”

  I had to agree that made more sense than him giving me long and convoluted instructions, so I nodded. “Okay.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you see things the way I do. Makes a change.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked suspiciously.

  He chuckled. “It’s supposed to mean not many people do.”

  “Oh.”

  He shook his head at me, laughing. “Are you always so aggressive?”

  “No,” I said. “Mostly I’m worse.”

  He raised a brow, recognizing his own words from earlier, and laughed. “Nice.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  I felt his eyes on me and when my gaze met his I felt a flush of heat pass through my body. I looked abruptly away, feeling my palms sweat. Hell, but he was sexy! He was looking at me like he was trying to look through me, undressing me with his eyes. I shivered.

  “I think I’ll have the trout,” I said. I don’t eat land-animals. And besides, the trout sounded amazing. He nodded.

  “Good choice. I’ll have that too. It’s famous here.”

  “Oh.” I smiled. “Well, I’m glad I have you to teach me about local custom.”

  “Exactly,” he nodded. He looked smug again.

  I ignored him and he seemed not to mind. He just sat there with that self-assured grin on his face. I looked away across the valley, feeling the peace of the place sink into my soul. It was rare for me to feel so calm. I stared out over the blue mountains in the distance and understood Grandpa and why he chose to stay out here. It would seem more sensible to move to an old-age home in Miami like my mom wanted him to do, but now I understood why he never had. He loved this place too much.

  The waiter took our orders.

  “Two trouts and a Budweiser for me. Same for you?”

  I frowned, considering. “No,” I said. “Just a water.” I was hot and thirsty and the last thing I wanted was to lose my head…it was already hard to think sensibly.

  “You don’t drink?” he asked.

  I raised a brow. “Sometimes. But it’s hot and I’m thirsty.”

  “Well, beer is water,” he said with a shrug.

  “Yeah,” I said. “The kinda water that traffic cops charge you for drinking.”

  He laughed. “Point taken.”

  “Good.”

  The waiter returned with our drink orders. I looked thirstily at the condensation on the glass. My lips were parched and I licked them.

  “You were born here?” I asked as we sipped our drinks. It was cool and refreshing and exactly what I had needed.

  “In Cody.”

  “Oh?” I hadn’t heard of the place, which was proof of my ignorance, I guess.

  “It’s not that big, but it’s a nice city,” he said with a grin. “You should visit it sometime.”

  “I might,” I said carefully. I wasn’t even sure if I would visit the place again. I had no idea, yet, what Grandpa even needed from me.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Nice nightlife there. I think you’d like it.”

  “Oh?” He was looking at me in a sort of evaluating way, and I felt at once uncomfortable and excited by it.

  “Yeah. You look like you like a party.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Really?” I do like parties, but how he saw that when I was wearing old jeans and a cream shirt with my hair a mess, all my makeup everywhere from the perspiring, I’d no idea.

  “Yeah. You’re a fireball.”

  I almost choked on my water. It wasn’t because of the statement, but because I had never had anyone say that to me before. People called me pushy, loud and sassy. No one had ever called me a fireball before. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it,” he grinned lazily. “Now, do they feed us in this place, or what?”

  I laughed. “Well, you’re the one who knows it.”

  “They do, usually.” He frowned, as if expecting our waiter to appear so he could tell him off. I watched him. He was so handsome, with those stunning eyes and clean jawline, but he also had a brooding, restless quality, as if he was constantly wanting to get to the next place.

  “Well, they’ll bring it,” I said. “Relax.”

  He let out a sigh. “I guess I don’t do that often enough.”

  “Probably not.”

  He laughed, and we sat their quietly for a while, just enjoying the quiet and the afternoon heat. I noticed him watching me and I felt the blood flush my face as his eye traveled down my body and back up again. It felt almost more intimate than if he had touched me.

  I wonder what it would be like if he…

  “The fish, and the fish,” the waiter said, putting a plate down in front of me and then in front of Reese.

  “Ah, finally!” he chuckled. I nodded.

  “You see?” I asked. I was blushing, trying not to think about the fact that I’d been busy imagining how it would feel if those hard lips were touching my own, that hard chest against me.

  “Oh! This is great,” he said. He was chewing and swallowing the first mouthful of fish, and he reached for a drink, his tongue licking those hard lips. I felt my tummy flip over.

  I took my knife and fork, breathing in the savory aroma of the fish. It looked and smelled absolutely wonderful.

  “Oh!” I chewed and swallowed, smiling despite myself. “This is amazing. The best I ever tasted.”

  He smiled. “Glad you like it.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  We ate in silence for a while and then he set his knife and fork momentarily aside.

  “How about if I come with you to the ranch?” he asked after a moment.

  I frowned at him. The thought of taking him with me did make my blood run quick with excitement. But what was he planning to do out there? “Why would you come with me?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Guess I thought you might need help. Silly, I guess.”

  “No,” I shook my head. “No. I would appreciate the help,” I added quickly. “It’s just Grandpa…I don’t know what’s wrong with him yet. I’d rather have time alone first,
try to find out what he needs from me. Could be anything from needing to go in for a check-up to needing help fill in tax returns. You know, grandfathers.” I shrugged.

  He frowned. “I don’t, really.”

  “Oh?” I took another mouthful of the fish, then drank more water. “Why not?”

  “Well,” he sighed. “My mom’s dad died when I was a boy. Dad’s father was dead long before.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  He grinned. “Don’t be. Not like I really knew them, anyway.”

  “Even so,” I said. “It’s nice to have had a grandpa.”

  “I can imagine it must be. I loved my grandma.”

  “Grandmas are wonderful.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sat quietly for a while. I was in my childhood memories and from the look on his face, wistful and a bit downcast, so was he. The day was cooling a little, a breeze slowly ruffling the leaves of a willow near where we sat. I sighed, enjoying the coolness on my skin.

  “What if we exchange numbers?” he offered. “Then when you know your grand-dad’s problems, you can call me if there’s any heavy lifting needing doing.”

  “Okay,” I said easily. In truth, my heart was thumping. I had been disappointed with the idea of never seeing Reese again. He was nice and funny. And stunning. I wanted to stay in touch with him.