It’s hard to believe that all went down only yesterday afternoon, but that’s the thing about chase season. Time gets slippery. Yesterday I woke up in Kansas and went to bed in Colorado; tonight we’ll be in New Mexico or Texas, depending on how far we chase this system to the east. By June, I’ll be so sick of my car that I’ll vow not to go any farther than the grocery store for weeks.
I’m still not letting Wes anywhere near the driver’s seat.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he says in an exaggerated drawl. “I’m not about to steal your keys. East works for me. Just going to head inside for some snacks. You need anything?”
“I’ll come with you.”
Thanks to holiday travelers, the store is far busier than usual for a middle-of-nowhere truck stop. A pretty blonde in a pastel-yellow sundress clocks Wes the second we walk in, her focus locked on him as he heads for the energy drinks. I splitoff to the sad fruit display. She waits all of three seconds before sidling her way over to him.
Rolling my eyes, I dig through the apples in search of one that isn’t bruised. When I look up again, Wes is grinning at the blonde and making no move to separate her hand from his arm.
“Seriously?” I mutter under my breath while she leans closer. Wes being a flirt is nothing new, but we’ve barely been on the road for a couple of hours. If he thinks I’m going to wait around while he has a conversation with her perky cleavage, he’s going to be walking back to Colorado Springs.
Stomping over to the water case, I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Wes has his phone out, tapping on the screen while laughing at something the blonde said. I don’t even want to consider how many phone numbers that man has accumulated.
My phone buzzes a second later, and eager for a distraction, I pull it out—only to find a text from Wes.
Little help??
Snorting under my breath, I quickly reply,I am NOT your wingwomanbefore shoving my phone back in my pocket. When it buzzes again, I ignore it and focus on grabbing the coldest bottle of water I can find.
“Sloane, there you are, darlin’,” Wes says, suddenly at my side. His new friend scowls and takes a step closer to him. It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes again.
I transform into a five-foot-eleven popsicle, frozen in the middle of the aisle, when Wes drapes his arm around myshoulders. He leans closer, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Play along and I’ll owe you big time.”
“You already owe me,” I hiss under my breath, but I don’t shake off his arm. Despite Easter Barbie glaring daggers at me, being tucked into his side feels pretty nice. At my height, it’s not often I meet a guy that makes me feel anything close to dainty. Despite the shrieks from my inner feminist, some lizard-brain part of me likes it.
Or I’m so touch-starved that I’m starting to lose my mind.
“So what do you say, Wes?” The blonde bats her eyelashes and leans forward in an unnatural posture that puts her chest on full display. “I’d love to show you a good time while you’re visiting New Mexico. My family’s place has a private hot spring. It’sverysecluded.”
“Sounds like an invite to get murdered.” It should be too quiet for her to hear, but by his choked laugh, Wes catches my muttering just fine.
“Thanks, but we’ve got to get going,” he says while sliding his hand low on my hip. I get a little thrill at the possessive move, which has nothing to do with Wes and everything to do with the novelty of someone claiming me so blatantly. Even if it is for show.
“Oh, you can bring your…friend.” She smiles at me like a snake about to strike, the wrinkle of her nose unmistakable as she takes in my faded leggings and the remnants of chipped pink polish on my toenails. “My cousin has a thing for tomboys.”
Pressed into his side, I feel Wes go rigid, though his charming smile doesn’t so much as flicker. “Best of luck to him. This one is mine.”
I must not do a great job of hiding my shock. The blonde rolls her eyes with a scoff.
Not in the mood for a second round of gas station insults in one week, I turn to tell Wes he can meet me in the car when he’s done with whatever the hell this is. To my surprise, he only tightens his grip and steers us toward the cashier without another word.
I keep quiet when he plucks my water and snacks out of my hands and pays for everything, the weight of the blonde’s stare heavy between my shoulder blades and a host of confusing feelings swirling in my head.
It doesn’t help when Wes tucks me back into his side as soon as he’s done paying—and keeps me there despite the heat.
I recover myself once we’re at the car and lift a mocking brow like I can’t still feel the weight of his touch when he lets go. “Not in the mood to be tied up in her basement?”
He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “Definitely not. Thanks for that. I—”
The click of heels on pavement precedes a cloud of perfume marching toward us, determination pinching the blonde’s mouth. She gives me another of those dismissive up-and-down glances before turning her attention firmly to Wes.
His eyes follow mine, narrowing as he lets out a sound somewhere between a growl and groan before snapping his attention back to me. I don’t understand the intensity of his stare or the way his gaze drops to my mouth until he says in a low voice, “In about two seconds I’m going to kiss you.”
I swallow hard, the sound of those damn heels louder than ever. He can’t be serious. Except he’s already leaning closer,and there’s a tiny voice in the back of my mind insisting this is a perfect chance to satisfy my curiosity.
Fuck it.
