Thick Cut
Page 8
“Where’s your car?”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his question. This morning, she’d hitched a ride outside of a San Diego rest area with an overweight trucker named Ralph headed to San Francisco with a trailer load of garlic bulbs. Eight hours into the trip he confessed to never having slept with a woman of her persuasion. He spewed some non-sense about her reminding him of a lovely black unicorn, and then proceeded to grope her with his sausage fingers. When the heck had Ralph the Trucker ever seen a unicorn? Maybe, the pervert had puffed some of Cali’s medical marijuana. Either way, Ivy had screamed for him to stop the rig, giving little attention to the where and when as she exited the semi-truck.
“What?” she managed to stammer.
“Where,” he drawled, his voice deliciously deep with a masculine base, “is your car?”
She looked around. Nervous energy started to bubble in her gut. Okay, she was alone, in some one-traffic light town, with a suddenly angry bar owner towering over her. Maybe she should have tested her luck back in the truck with the last black unicorn hunter.
“I walked,” she confessed, acutely aware of her vulnerable circumstance.
He kept his eyes on her. “The five miles from the highway?”
He practically growled the words. And nowww, Ivy was officially scared.
She lifted her chin, speaking with more confidence than she felt. “Walking through God’s country never hurt anybody.”
He stared at her. And on a stack of hotel bibles, she would have sworn she saw fire roar in his eyes.
“At night it can,” he snapped, but a cord of sadness hung on each word.
A mountain of pain erupted in those telling eyes, but then it vanished. Something much harder and menacing replaced it. Okay, time to put some distance between her and blue-eyed hell boy.
“Look,” she said, slowly inching back. “I was looking for some food. I saw the sign but—I’m really sorry I disturbed you, sir.”
As she talked, Ivy inched farther away, putting distance between his body and hers in case she needed to pull a ‘don’t-go-into-the-woods scream’ and run-down Miller Road. Then the oddest thing happened.
He smiled. “I’m sir now?”
The smile, the eyes, the body all worked for her. He truly was a handsome grumpy pants.
“I’ll call you whatever you want,” she swallowed. Psycho alert, she thought.
Ivy gazed at the darkening street ahead. She could make a break for it. With a hint of luck, she might make it back to the highway. Just then, a child appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with small balled up fists.
“Daddy, what’s taking you so long? I’m ready for my bedtime story.”
A little boy with straw-colored hair, lighter than his father’s, pushed a half-hidden torso from behind one of those long legs. He wore an Ironman sleep romper that covered his feet and zipped up to his neck. It looked like there was a cape or something behind him, but in the low light it was hard for Ivy to tell.
“Go back inside, Cai,” he told the child.
At least, the kid was interested in books, rather than video games. It was the first indication that the man was human after all.
“Who are you talking to?” the child demanded.
She couldn’t hide the shock on her face. Mr. Grumpy Pants had produced a little demanding version of himself.
“Nobody,” he said in his firm father’s voice.
Ivy gritted her teeth. Now, why did he have to go say a thing as bone-headed as that? It almost hurt her feelings that he equated her presence to a non-entity. She had been discounted most of her life. No way would she permit this stranger to deem her invisible.
The same blue eyes as his father’s regarded her, and she thought she heard Mr. Grumpy Pants say the boy’s name was Kyle. The little sleepy head reached for his father’s giant hand.
The child asked, “Who’s that lady?”
“Cai, I said—,” the man interjected.
Ivy interrupted. She could feel his eyes on her, intense and scrutinizing. Looking at Cai, she ignored the father. True, it was beneath her to use a child to save her own hide, but her belly and body had reached their limit.
“Hello Cai. My name is Ivy Summers.”
He laughed. “That’s a pretty name.” He shook his daddy’s hand, capturing his attention. “Isn’t her name pretty, Daddy?”
Grumpy Pants’ frown deepened. “It’s alright.”
She scowled back. She didn’t know what his problem was and she didn’t care. She needed food. That’s when she felt strong fingers grip her elbow. Ivy squeezed her eyes shut prepared for a crushing pain. Instead, warmth, tingling, and an ‘oh so delicious’ sensation wound its way up her arms. His fingers contracted where they touched, and then relaxed. Had he felt it, too?
“Come inside, Ivy. I’ll feed you,” he said in that deep sexy tone.
That voice was already feeding something wicked inside of her. A lingering hunger she’d neglected to feed for long while salivated at his deep timbre. She’d have to make sure to keep quiet over whatever meal he put in front of her. The last thing Ivy needed was his voice distracting her from a full belly.
“Are you sure your wife will be okay with me grabbing a quick bite before moving on?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up to find him watching her again. His eyes were doing that dancing fire thing once more as he took her all in.
“She’s not here,” he said, his voice dropped low and somehow, vacant.
Ivy pulled up short. Married men were a hard limit for her. She wasn’t looking for any trouble, yet the way his eyes drank in her features, before settling on her mouth she got the impression that food was the last thing on his mind.
Keep reading: https://amzn.to/2p37vwc
ALSO BY SIERA LONDON
The Bachelors of Shell Cove Series
• Chasing Ava
• Convincing Lina
• Catching Rebecca
• Claiming Janna
• Second Chance Christmas
The Fiery Fairy Tales Series
• Chasing Flames
• Concealing Fire
• Commanding Heat
The Forbidden Series
• Forbidden Distraction
• Forbidden Attraction
The Men of Endurance
• Staying The Course
• Going The Distance
• All Out of Love
MaKenzie Young Crime Fiction Novels
• The Last File
Kelvinian Warriors Paranormal Urban Fantasy
• Cindra
Anthologies
• Just One Kiss
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Siera London is a USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, romantic suspense, and crime fiction. She crafts stories of diverse characters navigating the challenges and triumphs to find a satisfying ever after. Intelligence, wit, emotion, and drama are between the covers of every Siera London novel. Siera lives in Virginia with her husband, and a color patch tabby named Frie.
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