Four nights.
He’d even taken an extra shift for Thomas on his Wednesday off in case Charlotte decided to make good on his suggestion.
Yeah. Recon.
His headlights illuminated the road, providing just enough light to avoid veering off into the soft sand. For a brief moment, he contemplated covering the remaining ground on foot.
Cholla in the underbelly.
Scratching at his stomach, he tossed the idea out of his head. The hassle of stripping down, packing, transforming, and going through it all in reverse while staying out of sight of Miss Charlotte and her binoculars wasn’t worth the ten minutes he’d save.
Besides, his ribs were still hurting like a bitch.
The lights of the national park ranger truck blared across his retinas as he rounded a bend in the road. Pulling off to the side, he slid the carefully packed meals into his backpack and got out.
“My savior!” Max yelled out to him, jumping out of the passenger side and breaking into a jog. “She tried to feed me knockoff peanut butter on stale bread again.” He began rifling through Alex’s bag, pulling out two large trays. “I’ll eat these on the way. Duty calls.”
As Max ran off toward a truck in the distance, he made his way over to the white truck and rapped his knuckles on the passenger window. “Delivery for Miss Charlotte,” he called, opening the door and setting his bag on the seat. “Thomas sent extra vinegar and…and…”
And…
He could feel the precise moment his brain short-circuited.
It was the moment the scrutinizing dark eyes lit up at the words extra vinegar.
He cleared his throat. “Extra vinegar and napkins.”
Charlotte’s cheeks flushed as she pulled the Styrofoam tray onto her lap. “You really didn’t have to do this,” she said, reaching into the back seat. “But thank you.”
Gripping the roof of the truck, he leaned in and looked around. “Anytime. Mind if I get in or is there some park ranger law I don’t know about?”
“Probably,” she muttered. “Yeah, you can get in. I’m due to be written up soon anyway.” She opened her wallet and began pulling bills out.
“Put that away,” he barked, reaching under his seat to adjust the leg room. “My treat for our local heroes in, what is that, gray and khaki?”
With her eyes still frustratingly averted, she scrunched her nose. “Not my best colors, but yeah. Brown hikers, too.” She lifted her foot to reveal the practical, unappealing footwear.
“But you have a badge and that’s pretty cool,” he pointed out. “So what’s on the docket for tonight? High-speed desert chases? Tracking poachers?”
She swallowed and laughed, her eyes meeting his for a millisecond before they dropped again. “I’m pretty much doing it right now. Once I finish eating, I’ll drive the main pathways, check on the campers in the west grounds, and then loop back to the station in time to clock out.”
Remembering his internal rationale for contacting the woman again, he looked out into the blackened desert. “What about animals? Any of those out here?”
With her attention on carefully opening the small packet of vinegar, her dark brows knotted. “Other than the coyotes and jackrabbits, we have a good amount of bighorns around here. The odd cougar.” She glanced out the window. “A stray dog here and there.”
Stray.
Whatthefuckever.
Ignoring the unintentional slight to his ego, he pressed for more. “Bet you get a few owners out here up in arms about their missing poodles and cockapoos.”
“Hmm.” She hummed, drenching one fry in vinegar at a time before lifting it to her mouth. “I’m heading up the search for one out there right now. Big guy. Probably a Great Dane or a mastiff, though we’ve had no reports of missing pets,” she mused, licking her lips and testing his resolve to remain on total recon when the simple movement amped his heart rate. “A tourist clipped the poor thing with his car last week, so who knows where the pup holed up.”
On my lumpy mattress with a bottle of Tylenol and a World War II documentary.
“What do you do in cases like that? Injured animals, I mean.”
She smirked, a slightly guilty look crossing her face. “We send the wild ones to a rehabilitation center, but if a pet owner doesn’t come forward, we’re supposed to hand them over to an animal rescue.”
Catching the slight hitch in her words, he cocked a brow and reached over to snatch a fry. “Supposed to?”
“We’re legally obligated to place the animal with the proper agencies. So the last cat I found may or may not live with me now.” She grinned, examining her fries. “Her name may or may not be Marbles. And if I find that poor dog, I may or may not bring him home, too.”
*
Charlotte watched in her peripheral vision as Alex bent forward slightly and rested his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think it’s something I’d be fired for,” she quickly added, fighting the urge to watch his biceps as they tightened. “Not like drawing a weapon without just cause or anything.”
His jaw flexed in the dim light of the cab as he pursed his lips. “No, of course not.” He finally chuckled. “I have a lot of respect for animal rescue.” He smirked and tilted his head, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “So, you like dogs?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” she countered, passing what was left of her meal his way.
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered, accepting the container and diving into the vinegar-soaked fries. “How the hell do you have any taste buds left after eating this? I mean, damn, girl. What the—”
Blinding headlights appeared suddenly as a vehicle spun around the bend and barreled straight toward them, braking into a cloud of dust. An unnatural snarl echoed in her ears, her own voice catching in her throat for a moment before her brain caught up with the gait of the driver while he strode through the beams. Throwing her door open, she jumped out of the truck and leapt onto the man, yanking his arm roughly behind him and flipping him onto his back as Alex appeared at her side.
“Dammit, Chuck.” Max coughed, struggling to get back up and glaring at her when she slammed her shoulder into his to keep him down. He arched his head back to grin at Alex. “You two behaving yourselves?”
Alex shook his head in disbelief, his eyes flicking between Charlotte and Max. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified.”
Her chest heaving from the exertion, she gave one final smack to Max’s ribs and rose off him, dusting the sand from her clothes. “Sorry,” she panted, kicking a little extra dirt onto her partner as he got to his feet. “Max thinks he’s funny.”
“I’m a fucking riot.” Max coughed again, untucking his shirt to check for damage. “You’ve gotten faster.” He turned to Alex. “Figured you could use a little demonstration of what Chuck can do to you if you try anything funny.”
Her cheeks flamed as her lips tightened into a thin line.
“Message received,” Alex replied, stepping closer to her. “On that note, I think I better get my ass home. Swing by the tavern before work tomorrow if you have time.”
“Thanks for dinner,” she ground out, her muscles still tense from the adrenaline rush. She continued to glare at Max while Alex disappeared down the dark road to his SUV. “I’m going to kill you.”
Max gave a friendly wave to Alex as he flipped around and disappeared down the road. “I know guys like him. Young. Hot. Completely on their game,” he said cheerfully, shaking the sand from his hair and pulling his hat back on. “I am guys like him.” He bent to scoop her hat from the ground and handed it to her.
“That was so embarrassing,” she seethed, smacking her dusty hat against her leg. “Why would you do that?”
He tossed his arm over her shoulder. “To throw the player off his game, of course. Make sure he knows messing with you isn’t a good idea.” He paused. “And it was funny.”
*
Alex pulled into his parking stall, killed the engine, pulled his phone from his p
ocket, and dialed his brother.
“Bo, honey,” a woman mumbled sleepily, “phone’s for you.”
“’Sup?” Bo’s gravelly voice was heavy with exhaustion or booze.
Probably both.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You talk to Ryan this week?”
Bo yawned loudly, the rustling of sheets transmitting through the phone. “Yeah, yeah. Midsized white guy with a goatee and a sedan. You good?”
“Just a few broken ribs,” he replied, pressing on them to assess the healing. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Fire away,” Bo grumbled.
“You ever date a woman who’s tougher than you?”
Chapter Four
“Can’t hide in there forever!”
Charlotte tossed her TV remote onto the sofa and stomped to her door, flinging it open with a lethal combination of annoyance and exhaustion. “Do you mind?” she hissed, glancing down the halls in anticipation of irate neighbors.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Max smiled, pushing his way into the small apartment and flopping into the recliner.
“Get out.”
He flipped the chair open, crossing his arms behind his head. “I will. Once you’re dressed and beautified and, ugh, showered.” He made a production of looking her up and down, his nose wrinkled in disdain. “You look like you got off work and fell facedown in a plate of toast.”
Dropping onto the sofa, she grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. “I did just get off work and now I get two Max-free nights before I have to be civil to you again.” She locked a dead glare on him. “Don’t you have a date?”
“That’s tomorrow. Tonight you’re coming out with us for some wings, beer, and more rambling stories from what’s-her-face. You know who. The new one from Montana.” He shuddered. “I need you to cockblock that one for me.”
She snorted, keeping her eyes glued to the television until Max stood up and placed himself directly in her line of sight.
“Come on, Chuck,” he warned. “We’re heading over to the Washout, so there’s no excuse for you to ditch out. Get. Up.”
Sighing in defeat, she rolled off the sofa and hoisted herself to her feet. “I still hate you.”
He snatched the remote and hip-checked her down the hall before he settled in to wait. His laughter carried over the rush of the shower water, earning a stern shushing from her and a thumping foot from the apartment above. By the time she was ready to go, she was certain she’d be coming home to an eviction notice.
Giving her an exaggerated once-over, he stalked around her. “Cougar on the prowl,” he purred, checking out the black leather pants she’d paired with an off-the-shoulder pewter crop top. “I’d consider doing you.”
“Ha!” she scoffed, tugging her heeled sandals on. “Because that’s why I’m dressed up. To become a consideration for your man-whore self.”
He passed over her purse as they walked out of the apartment, adjusting the collar of his black button-down and smoothing it over his chest. “Just saying you look kick-ass. Much better than the glaring psychopath you turn into every time a certain bartender is in the area.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, you sure did your best to make sure that’ll never happen again,” she muttered, swinging the door to Max’s truck open.
“Can you blame me?” He laughed. “It’s weird seeing you crushing on a guy.”
Buckling her seat belt, she leaned back and groaned. “I know, I know.” She rolled her head to the side and looked at her best friend. “He’s just so damn pretty, my brain kind of zaps whenever he looks at me with those weird eyes. He’s one of those guys who’s going to snag a rich sugar momma and jet-set around the world until she up and dies and leaves him with all her money and a Pomeranian.” With the wrinkling of her nose, she played with the electric locks of the truck. “Add that to the fact he’s gotta be a good five years younger than me, and I’m definitely meant to admire his ass from afar.”
Max’s barking laughter filled the cab. “I’ll be your wingman tonight at the Washout if you block the Montana mumbler from me. We’ll find you a good, not-as-pretty boy to get your mind off Alex’s ass.”
The Washout was packed for a Thursday, the college kids still on leave from school. Max pushed his way through the crowd with Charlotte in tow until they spotted their coworkers. Annexing two chairs from a neighboring table, she and Max joined the group and flagged the waitress over.
“See the group of guys on the far left of the dance floor?” he muttered into her ear. “What do you think of the tall one in the Blue Jays hat?”
She scanned the men over. “I like the one in the Spider-Man shirt,” she whispered back, pulling her chair forward slightly to block the Montana mumbler from making eye contact with Max. “Tall, dark, and sober. Blue Jays guy looks sloshed already.”
The pair made casual chatter with their group before hitting the dance floor, Max angling his back to Spider-Man to give her the opportunity to better check the guy out over his shoulder. By the third dance, Spider-Man was watching with subtle interest.
“We’re hitting ‘couple’ territory here,” he said, leaning in to avoid being overheard. “Follow me.”
He walked to the edge of the dance floor, placed himself beside Spider-Man and the waitress taking orders, and pulled out his wallet. “Could I please get a Bud for me and a vodka Coke for my cousin?” he asked, slipping two twenties onto the woman’s tray and looking her over in appreciation. “And three shots. Your choice.” When the waitress smirked at him and nodded, he tilted his head toward her, his voice loud enough to be overheard by their target. “I have such a weakness for blondes.”
“I can’t believe there’s one in the county you haven’t scored yet.” She grinned, catching Spider-Man’s interest in their conversation. “When she comes back, I’ll make myself scarce.”
He frowned. “I’m not leaving you to sit alone.”
Their target leaned in, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Your cousin can sit with us,” he offered, smiling over at her. “I’m Chris.”
*
Charlotte pushed her chair back and crossed her legs, laughing as Chris pushed his phone in front her to show off pictures of his iguana. “She’s very pretty.” When he launched into an excited recount of the lizard’s latest escapades, she took a moment to look him over.
He was cute.
Sweet.
Dark eyes. Straight teeth.
Funny.
Passionate about lizards.
Logically, he was a good match for her.
Maybe the whole butterflies-in-the-stomach thing is overrated.
“You like this song?” he asked, motioning toward the dance floor.
She nodded, accepting his hand as he led her to join the mass of people bouncing and grinding to the music. She checked the bar for Max, laughing when he caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up.
“So you and your cousin hang out here a lot?” Chris asked, stepping closer to her without missing a beat.
“Not really,” she replied, forcing a smile when he turned an accidental brushing into a full-on hold on her hip. “We usually hit another place.”
He smirked at her, pulling her a little closer. “Then I’m glad you came here tonight.”
The butterflies finally appeared when she caught sight of a tall blond making his way across the dance floor.
*
Alex could definitely appreciate the gorgeous woman shimmying in front of him as the music pumped through the bar. Melanie, his date for the evening, was stunning. Perfectly polished and expensively dressed, she was everything Bo had recommended. And she’d placed herself directly in his line of sight at the tavern two nights prior, a welcome distraction from the woman he was forbidding himself to think about.
As Melanie turned around and backed up against him, her hips swaying against his, he dutifully placed his hands on her waist. The club was the last place he had wanted to end up that night. Spendin
g his time off in the same environment he spent his working hours wasn’t his idea of a break, but she had been adamant they head to the Washout after their dinner.
And he was nothing if not an accommodating date.
He glanced toward the bar, frowning as he recognized Max leaning against the counter, his attention on a busty blonde waitress. His eyes instinctively scanned the room for Max’s partner, squinting in the low light for any sign of an auburn ponytail.
“Want to grab one more drink?”
His attention snapped back to his date, her heavily lined blue eyes looking up at him with suspicion. “Lead the way,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers to make up for his moment of distraction.
Melanie slithered in front of him, holding her hand out behind her as she ordered for both of them. He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and gave it to her, keeping his head turned slightly to avoid being recognized by Max.
Not that it mattered.
Drinks in hand, Melanie leaned against the counter and smiled up at him. “How about we head back to my place for a movie after this?” she suggested, wrapping her painted lips around her straw.
“Sounds good,” he replied, knowing damn well where a movie would lead and finding himself surprisingly ambivalent to the idea.
“Good.” She smirked. “Watch my drink. I’ll be right back.”
He stepped aside to let her pass and halfheartedly admired her ass as she walked away.
“What kind of cologne do you wear that makes this so easy for you?”
Cocking a brow, he turned toward Max. “What?”
Max nodded toward Melanie’s retreating form. “I’ve been wheeling a waitress for the better part of the past two hours, and I’m pretty sure I’m going home empty again.” He pointed his drink toward a table of women. “Every chick in that group is ogling you and would replace Miss Hotpants in a heartbeat. Now spill.”
He took a swig of his beer. “Animal magnetism?”
“Where do I get my hands on some of that?” Max grumbled, looking at the dance floor. “So, Chuck’s here.”
His jaw tensed as he resisted the overwhelming urge to scan the club. “Oh, yeah?”
Junkyard Dog Page 3
