“I’d really rather not.” There was clear defeat in her voice that would have made Cole feel bad for her if they weren’t in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Cole was getting frustrated. They had gone too far and gone down too many different roads to head back the way they’d come. At least with the sun going down, he knew what direction they were heading.
They spent the next half hour driving in silence. He was thankful he’d eaten a large lunch, because it was closing in on dinnertime with no food joints in sight.
“If I were to apologize, could we forget this ever happened?” Brooke’s voice was low and sincere.
But Cole was tired and hungry, two things that made him much too grumpy to let her off the hook that easily. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget this happened.”
“Never is a long time,” she said as if she were truly contemplating the extent of its duration.
Cole shook his head. “I swear, I knew you were going to be trouble.”
He felt her eyes on him, but he refused to turn toward her. Mostly because he knew that was a shitty thing to say, and he didn’t want confirmation that he’d hurt her feelings.
“Not the first time I’ve been told that. Probably won’t be the last either. But I truly didn’t mean to be trouble for you. So if you’d just pull over, I’ll get my stuff and get out of your hair.” Her words were calm but held a note of steel beneath them.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Pull over, Cole.”
“I’m not going to pull over.”
“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Pull. The. Fuck. Over.”
Cole prepared himself for oncoming drama and pulled onto the shoulder.
Brooke barely waited for him to come to a complete stop before opening her door. She quickly started pulling things out of the bags and stuffing what she could fit into her backpack and the duffel bag she’d bought.
Cole rested his wrist on the steering wheel. “What are you doing?” he asked on an exhale.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Oh, come on. Get real.” He gestured at the barren landscape before them. “Where are you gonna go?”
She zipped up her backpack and looked at him a moment before speaking. “Listen, I get that you have noble intentions, but the truth is, this was a bad idea from the start. Because I am trouble, and I’m better off on my own.”
He snorted. “I’m sure that’ll work out real well for you.”
She shrugged. “Can’t be any worse than what I left behind.” And with that, she closed her door and began walking.
He watched her for a moment. Guilt swamped him as she stormed away. Coasting the truck alongside her, he leaned over to roll down the passenger window.
“Brooke, seriously, I can’t leave you here. It’s not safe.”
She didn’t stop or slow down. She didn’t acknowledge him in any way.
“Brooke?”
Nothing.
“Get in the truck,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
She continued walking, still not bothering to answer.
Cole nodded. “Okay then.” He looked over his left shoulder before pulling back onto the highway and gunning the engine.
Readjusting the bags on her shoulder for the fourth time in ten minutes, Brooke cursed silently. She let out a long sigh as she put her hand up above her eyes so she could see. Yes! It was probably still over a mile away, but she could definitely make out some sort of restaurant or store in the distance. “I may be a princess, but I can get along on my own just fine.” Brooke didn’t make a habit of talking to herself, but there was something about being in the middle of nowhere that made her want to hear a voice, even if it was her own.
She also knew she was saying it to try to convince herself. When she’d decided to leave home—or maybe disappear from home would have been more accurate—part of it had been to prove to herself and her family that she was capable of…something. Anything. But at the first sign of trouble, she’d done the very thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t: she let someone else be responsible for her. Cole was a good guy, which meant he definitely didn’t need to be dragged into her fucked-up situation. It was bad enough she’d gotten the guy lost. That would pale in comparison to the other complications she’d bring to his life. No, she was better off on her own.
Fifteen minutes later, she walked up to a building with the word Bar written above it. The place had seen better days. The parking lot had a few cars but mostly held eighteen-wheelers. She pulled open the dark-green wooden door, its rusty hinges announcing her arrival to the men sitting at the bar. A few heads turned toward her, their beady glazed eyes narrowing in confusion at the sight of her. It was more than obvious she didn’t exactly belong in a place like this. Straightening her spine, she walked toward the bar with her chin up, hoping she didn’t look as intimidated as she felt.
The men seemed unimpressed and returned to their conversations, though she’d bet anything their voices were a lot quieter than they’d been before. She walked to the end of the bar where a few stools were unoccupied. Sitting on the one farthest from anyone else and leaning her forearms on the bar top, her eyes searched out the bartender.
An older man, maybe in his fifties, with graying hair and a slight paunch in his middle, stood behind the bar with his arms outstretched, hands resting against the nicked wood finish of the bar. He was talking to some burly men wearing grimy T-shirts and worn-out hats—though he surreptitiously glanced her way, letting Brooke know he’d seen her and was deliberately making her wait.
Finally, he seemed like he could be bothered enough to come over and talk to her. He dried his hands on a dingy towel that hung from his belt. “What can I do for ya?”
“Can I have the number for a local cab company?”
The man squinted one eye as he observed her. His appraisal was unsettling, to say the least. “You could. If we had such a thing here.”
Brooke inhaled deeply as her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. It was like the gas station in Kansas all over again. It didn’t say great things about where she was if there weren’t even any cabs around. Everywhere had cabs. She looked back at the man who seemed to be enjoying her discomfort—if the smirk curling one side of his mouth was any indication. “Bus stop?”
The man nodded. “Bus runs through every day at eight.”
She looked at her watch. It was only a little before seven. Surely she could deal with some seedy men for an hour. In her business, an hour trapped in a room with smarmy guys was considered catching a break. Slinging her backpack around and resting it on the bar, she said, “Okay, I guess I’ll just wait here then. Do you have a menu?”
The man leaned closer as if he wanted to whisper a secret to her. She instinctively drew back, but that only made his smirk transform into a full-blown smile. And not a comforting one. “Can’t wait here, miss. We close at two.”
“But I thought you said the bus came at eight?”
“It does. Eight a.m.”
Shit. “How far is the nearest motel?” She was almost afraid to hear his answer.
“About fifteen miles.” The man backed off the counter and began rubbing his hands with the towel again, as if he was growing bored speaking to her.
Brooke felt at a loss, though she knew better than to show it. There was no way she could walk fifteen miles before dark set in. And being out on that empty stretch of road at night was not an option. She’d watched enough horror movies to know how that kind of thing worked out.
“Still want that menu?” the bartender asked, the mocking clear in his tone.
Brooke was thinking of how to answer when another voice spoke. “I can give ya a ride.”
Turning slowly, Brooke was afraid to see which of the creatures had spoken.
“Hey, that’s a good idea. Let Lyle give ya a ride,” the bartender said. But his voice still held a sliver of sarcasm mixed with something else. Something scary. Like he was in on a joke she wasn’t even aware had been told.
>
Brooke looked at Lyle. He appeared to be in his thirties and was built kind of how she’d imagine a crazy, backwoods lumberjack to be—tall, solid, scruffy, and creepy. This was the second stranger in two days who’d offered her a ride. But she knew immediately that she wouldn’t accept this one. While Cole had been open and inviting, this man was dark and devious. “No thanks.”
The man looked down at his boots and kicked at imaginary dirt before returning his leering gaze to hers. “Looks like you’re outta other options.”
“I’ll think of something,” she muttered before turning to face the bar. She felt Lyle move closer to her, the hairs all over her body rising. The bartender looked from Brooke to Lyle and then back to Brooke before walking to the other end of the bar to resume his conversation with the other men.
Brooke felt a piece of her hair being moved off her neck as Lyle leaned in. “If you’d rather wait for the bus, you could always spend the night in my truck. It’s mighty comfortable.”
Brooke consciously kept her breathing even and forced herself not to jerk away from Lyle’s touch. Guys like him enjoyed games of cat and mouse. Brooke had no intention of playing. “Thanks for the offer. But I’m not interested.” Brooke would call home before she’d leave the bar with this man. And that was saying something.
“Aw, you’re starting to hurt my feelings, darlin’. I’m just trying to be nice.”
Brooke turned and offered a small, tight smile. “I appreciate the offer. But I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway.” As she turned her face away from the man, she felt him press his body into her back—his erection undeniable against the top of her ass. He put his arms on either side of her, his hands lowering to the bar and caging her in.
She glanced down at the other end of the bar where the rest of the patrons sat. None of them looked her way.
“I’m going to offer one more time,” he said into her ear, the heat of his breath making her flinch.
“Leave me alone. Please.” She had to force herself to add the pleasantry at the end. Everything in her rebelled against offering this man anything that resembled begging, but she didn’t know what else to do.
He ground himself into her. “I think we both know I’m not going to do that.”
Brooke couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. She’d thought she already knew what fear felt like. She was wrong.
“Now you’re going to get up and come with me to my truck without a fuss. You hear me?” The fake sweetness his voice had previously held had been replaced by scathing venom.
She swallowed past the lump of terror in her throat. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Then I’ll just have to make ya.” His hands left the bar suddenly and gripped her arms, pulling her back against him.
She struggled to break free of his grasp. “No. Please. Don’t!”
“You deaf?” The question thundered through the bar, causing everything to grind to a halt. Lyle’s hands didn’t leave her, but they stopped pulling.
Her head whipped around toward the voice that sounded both gloriously familiar and intimidatingly new. Cole. He was there. And shit did he look furious.
“You say something to me, boy?” Lyle asked.
Cole’s stature was calm as he leaned against a wall by the entrance. His posture made it seem like he had no opinion about what he was witnessing. But his clenched fists and the look in his eyes told a different story. “I asked if you were deaf. Seems to me the woman asked you to let her go.” Cole pushed off the wall with his shoulder and stood up straight. “Your best bet is to listen.”
Lyle released Brooke and stepped back, huffing out a small laugh as he did so. “That right?”
Cole nodded.
“And what if I don’t?”
Cole took two steps closer. “Then this is going to get real ugly for you.”
Brooke’s eyes drifted to the other men at the bar. Cole was seriously outnumbered, which brought a whole new fear to the surface for her. The last thing she wanted was for Cole to get hurt protecting her. Especially when it was her fault they were in this mess in the first place. Luckily, while they looked interested in what was unfolding, none seemed inclined to intervene. At least not yet.
“I think you got that backwards,” Lyle warned him.
Cole shrugged. “Come over here, and we’ll find out.”
Lyle snickered. “Wait right here, darlin’,” he said to Brooke. “I’ll be right back.”
Lyle slowly advanced on Cole, who never moved. Brooke could see the coiled tension Cole was carrying in his shoulders. He was braced for a fight. And Brooke hoped it was one he could win.
Lyle took the last two steps to Cole quickly, cocking his arm back before swinging it forward. Cole sidestepped the punch with such grace and fluidity, it made Brooke wonder who she’d been sharing a truck with for the past day and a half. Cole turned, grabbing the arm Lyle had swung, and elbowed him hard in the face. Lyle staggered back, holding his nose as Brooke watched his blood drip to the floor.
Lyle lost all grace then, hurtling himself at Cole, who easily countered, somehow grabbing the man in a headlock, causing Lyle to lose his footing. When Cole released Lyle’s neck so he could deliver a hard knee to Lyle’s ribs, Brooke swore she heard the crunch of breaking bones. Cole pulled Lyle up by the hair and delivered two hard punches to the face, dropping him to the ground, where he remained.
When Cole stepped back, Brooke could see his clothing was slightly rumpled, his knuckles were bleeding, and a sheen of sweat blanketed his skin. He looked at Brooke. “Let’s go.”
Brooke quickly jumped off the stool, grabbed her bags, and headed for the exit. Cole didn’t move until she was by the door, instead glaring at the other men in the bar as if daring them to make a move. They didn’t. As Brooke held the door open for him, Cole casually made his way toward her.
Once outside, his pace picked up, and they almost sprinted to Cole’s truck. But Brooke couldn’t resist asking, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Now’s not a great time for questions. Get in the truck.”
She did, throwing herself into the passenger seat and hugging her bag to her chest.
Cole put the key in the ignition and took off out of the parking lot and down the road.
The silence between them was charged with so many swirling emotions, Brooke could barely see through the haze of them. Not only had she pissed off the man beside her earlier, he’d then had to save her ass. She didn’t deserve to have him come back for her, but she was infinitely grateful that he had. “Cole?”
“What, Brooke?” His words were clipped, residual anger flowing through them.
She flinched a little. The shock of what had almost happened to her continued to fray her almost spent nerves. “Thank you.”
Cole let out a breath, his shoulders slumping with an exhale. It took him a second to speak, but he eventually did. “You’re welcome, Princess.”
She finally let herself relax and sink back into the seat, relief ghosting across her face. She’d never been happier to be somebody’s princess.
Chapter Four
The adrenaline from the bar fight was still flowing through Cole as they drove along the deserted road. The sun had almost completely disappeared, causing the tall grass that covered the land as far as the eye could see to be swathed in burnt orange and red. It would have been beautiful if Cole had been capable of any fond thoughts in that moment.
Brooke sat silently in the seat beside him, feet up on the seat with her arms drawing her legs close to her body as though she were physically trying to hold herself together. The sight tore at him, but he was too swamped in negativity to talk to her yet.
Cole had never been happier to walk into a bar full of drunks in his life. God only fucking knew what would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t shown up. Well, Cole likely did know, and the thought made him grip the steering wheel tighter.
Despite being thankful he was there, he also cursed himself for letting Broo
ke get into that situation in the first place. He should’ve tried harder to get her back in the truck instead of letting his temper get the best of him. At least his conscience hadn’t abandoned him completely. When he’d driven away and come across the bar, he’d pulled into the parking lot and parked between two rigs so she wouldn’t be able to see his truck. He hadn’t quite figured out what he was going to do from there—whether he was going to try to convince her to ride with him again or follow her for a while like a creep—but none of that mattered as they drove down the mostly solitary road, save for a few farms here and there. She was safely seated beside him, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure she stayed there.
Eventually they came to a small town with a motel, and Cole pulled into the lot. He was wired and could have driven farther, but he figured Brooke could use a break. “This okay?” he asked her as he threw the truck in neutral.
“Sure,” she said softly before opening the door slowly and climbing out. She seemed to be moving on autopilot, which Cole couldn’t blame her for.
She started pulling her bags out, but Cole stopped her. “I’ll come back out for them after we get a room.”
Nodding once, she turned and started toward the office. Cole followed a little behind her, trying to give her both space and assurance that he was there. A bell tinkled above them as they opened the door to the office. An older man walked out from the back and greeted them.
“Evening, folks. Looking for a room?” he asked.
“Please,” Cole replied with a nod.
“One or two?” the man asked.
Cole looked at Brooke. He wanted whichever would make her more comfortable, but he had no idea if sharing a room with him would make her feel better or worse.
She looked back at him, her eyes glistening with what he figured were either unshed tears or exhaustion. Or both. He maintained eye contact, willing her to know everything that was swirling around in his head. That he was sorry, both for being an asshole and for what she went through in the bar. That he wouldn’t let anything else happen to her while she was with him. That she could trust him even though he’d almost let her down.
Misadventures with a Country Boy Page 4
