A Is for Alpha Male (8 page)

They were still cute, with holes worn through at the knees. Luckily, I came by the holes honestly and hadn’t bought them from the store that way. What a waste of money.

Anyway, they were cute, but they were old enough that it really wasn’t a big deal if they got ruined somehow.

I had a long sleeve shirt packed, something I always threw in just in case, but I very meaningfully closed the suitcase and zipped it with the shirt still inside.

Sue me, but I wanted to wear Danny’s shirt. Whether he liked me or not, I was going to take advantage of the opportunity.

I had been in my own world for awhile, easily occupied by all of the clothing decisions, but I was finally ready. Turning around with a heavy sigh, I came face to face with Allison. She was seated on the edge of the bed, completely ready, and wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top of her own. The shorts were dark denim, the tank top a pale pink, and her feet donned flip flops.

Flip flops sounded nice, but once again, I was torn.

Deciding what was good for the goose was good for the gander, I settled on wearing flip flops and taking my boots along, much like I was doing with my bottoms.

“Ready?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, I’m about as decisive as a squirrel in the middle of the road while a car bears down on it, but I’m finally ready,” I replied, and then huffed a deep, mildly aggrieved sigh.

“A simple “I’m ready” would have sufficed,” Allison informed me.

I gave her a look, one that said I was so not in the mood to be messed with, and luckily, she picked up the hint, cradled it in her arms like a football, and ran with it.

Smiling gently, she tossed me my wristlet and phone, grabbed hers, linked arms with me, and led us out of the room.

As soon as we pulled up in Danny’s gravel driveway, things got interesting.

The drive over had been pretty simple.

Top down.

Music blaring.

Sunglasses on and bodies bopping.

But when we pulled up in front of the house, climbed out of the car, and saw that Danny and his uncle were standing outside on the porch all hell broke loose.

Don’t worry, they didn’t start shooting at us or anything.

It’s just that when Danny’s uncle stepped out from the shadows, it became unquestionably clear that he was a motherfucking clone of Tim McGraw.

And just like that...Bam!

Allison fainted.

No joke. She made it around to my side of the car, the side closest to the house, took one good, long look at Timmy Two, and passed right the hell out.

Thank God I caught her. I’ll admit, it was a struggle getting us both down to the ground gently under her weight, but I somehow managed it.

However, I would never, ever tell her that. If she asked I would be all, “Light as a fucking feather, Madre. You were so light I balanced you on my pinky finger for a few seconds, just to show off.” Honesty was my policy. Always.
Except
when talking about a woman’s weight. When confronted with this timeless issue, lie, lie, lie your ass off.

Luckily, Danny and Timmy Two sprang into action, leaping off the porch and charging toward us like thunder at a full run, their faces both masks of concern.

For me, it was easy to surmise what was going on. Allison was having a nice semi-conscious journey through the same scene she’d had playing in her head when we left Knoxville.

Tim in nothing but his skivvies, or maybe just nothing at all, a soft, tasteful porno music in the background, and a twinkle in his eye that said his next destination was right between her legs. And he planned to stay there for awhile.

For the men, it could have been anything.

Malnourishment.

A poisonous spider bite.

Invisible ninjas with perfectly aimed throwing stars.

Or even some kind of spontaneous heart failure.

So when they got to us, they jumped into first aid techniques like it was their job.

No, seriously. They were scary efficient. Like they worked together administering first aid on people all the time.

“Guys, she’s fine, seriously,” I assured them. Of course, they didn’t actually listen.

Their hands continued to check her over feverishly, searching for the wound or some indicator of what was wrong, running over all of her limbs and testing to see if her abdomen was distended.

I, however, knew there was nothing really to be done, except maybe letting her finish the film reel of her fantasy, so I slumped back, sagging my weight to where my cushiony ass met gravel fully, and moved on to something I was better equipped to handle.

Like adding to an already dramatic entrance by stirring the pot.

That’s right. Have you ever added to the ridiculousness of an already ridiculous situation?

So. Much. Fun.

Taking my attention and switching it from the group as a whole to Danny alone, I accused, “You think you could have warned me that your uncle is the walking, talking, normal person version of the new, improved, and ripped Tim McGraw?”

Confusion settled on his face as he looked over at his uncle and really studied him, for what looked to be the first time.

“Jesus! It was too much for her system to handle with no warning!” I semi-hysterically shouted, my hands flailing wildly and then settling on the sides of my head with my elbows pointing out like chicken wings.

Danny, of course, ignored me. My shouting and accusations were nothing but background noise aside from the brief moment he had taken to look at his uncle.

I really admired that. It took a will of steel to truly ignore someone when they were feigning a psychotic outburst.

About that time, Allison’s eyes fluttered and opened, and then looked right at Danny’s uncle. When she took him in, a breathy, “Tim?” came pouring out of her mouth.

Timmy Two (I still didn’t know his real name) scooped up Allison in his arms, stood at full height, and muttered to the group at large, “You two certainly make an entrance.”

He turned and headed for the house, and as he walked, shaking his head slightly the whole time, I could still hear him muttering to himself, “Nope, most certainly don’t ease people into meeting the two of you, that’s for sure.”

I immediately liked him. His mindless muttering suggested that he might just be as weird as the rest of us. And in the land of me, that was a good thing.

Danny asked, “Well, that was interesting. Did the drive at least go uneventfully?” and brought my focus back to him.

Picking myself up off the gravel, Danny’s hand at my elbow to help, I answered him. “Yeah, no problems at all.”

Then, of course, I remembered a little detail I may have forgotten about before.

“Oh, actually we almost hit a deer, though.”

“Jesus, seriously?” he asked, his face jerking with surprise and slightly worried interest.

“Well, yeah. Except it had a John in front of it, an “e” on the end, and the guy was still on it,” I clarified.

Forgotten about, blocked out, whatever. Same thing.

“Jesus, Hales. You scare me, you know that?” Danny remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

I just nodded. This was nothing new. I scared most people.

Hell, I scared myself most of the time.

“Yeah, well. We missed him. It’s all good,” I deadpanned.

Danny shook his head again, one of his dimples making an appearance thanks to his smirk, and said, “Yeah, it’s all good. No lawsuit or prison sentence today.”

Thinking about prison, and then thinking about the fact that I let Allison get carried into a strange house by a stranger, I queried, “Your uncle’s not a serial killer or anything, right?”

When he just stared at me, his wheat-centered eyes blinking, I muttered, “Sorry. Just felt like I should check. Since I let him carry my mother into the house and all, and have thus far made no moves to follow him.”

Danny placed his hand at the small of my back, turned me toward the house, and started in that direction. When we got a few steps into our journey he said, “No worries. He’s not a serial killer.”

“Well, that’s good,” I breathed in exaggerated relief.

“He hasn’t killed anybody in at least fifteen years, and even then, it was just the one person,” Danny supplied, completely straight-faced.

“You ask a stupid question...” I muttered, letting the rest trail off under my breath.

I looked up just in time to see a smile take over his scruffy face, and at the same time his fingertips flexed into the fabric of my camisole on my back. I could feel the heat of his hand despite the barrier, and the cotton fibers skimming against my skin produced an involuntary shiver.

Giant, disproportionately winged butterflies took up residence in my stomach, and I had to work really hard not to squee with excitement.

In order to distract myself (yeah, that’s the only reason), I did a slow perusal of all that was Danny as we walked.

Light, worn out jeans, a black t-shirt with the “Fox Racing” logo on the front, brown boots, and the same backward, black baseball cap.

The t-shirt stretched over his muscles, but he was lean, so it wasn’t tight in a creepy way. His skin was a bronzy, golden tan, and he looked just sloppy enough to say that he didn’t care about his appearance, the ends of his chocolatey hair wet and sticking out from under his hat.

To sum up, he was fucking delectable.

I tried to stop my breasts from swelling and my nipples from getting hard, but I was like one of Pavlov’s dogs.

Show me a hot guy, and I’m going to salivate. Or the reproductive parts’ equivalent, if you catch my drift.

Glancing back at his wet hair as we climbed the steps of his porch, I thought of a question. “Why is your hair wet?”

I gave him no time to answer, but instead, kept right on talking. “Because if you sweat that much all the time, it could be a problem for me.” I leaned in, took a pronounced whiff of him, and then finished, “Good news is you don’t smell bad. So if it is sweat, at least your sweat smells good.”

Shaking his head while his lips curved slightly up at the ends, he stopped us, turned to face me, gave me his full attention, and informed me, “It’s wet because I just showered.”

My mouth started to open with a retort, but it was not to be had.

“And before you ask, no, I don’t sleep this late in the morning. And no, I don’t have some kind of fetish that only allows me to shower four hours after I wake up.”

He gave me a smirk, one that said I made it way to easy to play with me, and I made sure that my face was laced with the proper amount of chagrin.

“I want to take you out on the four-wheeler, so I did a little trail maintenance. Unfortunately, that did get me pretty sweaty, so I took a shower.”

I couldn’t believe I just made him explain taking a shower to me. Not to mention, asking him if he sweats a lot.

I was a serious pain in the ass.

Regardless, I didn’t have time to apologize for my shortcomings because I was far too excited about the four-wheeler part of what he said. “Oh my God! We’re going to ride four-wheelers?! I get to drive my own, right? Please say I get to drive my own!”

I didn’t know how or why he had chosen this for the day’s activity, but I was
freaking
out, jumping up and down and trying not to be too spastic with my arm flails.

Hunter had always ridden four-wheelers when I was little, but would absolutely never let me ride my own. Something about me being a girl and not being strong enough. He’s since stopped being a sexist asshole.

Chuckling lightly, Danny wrapped an arm around my shoulders and forced me to move forward again, opening the door and pushing me into the house. After we were inside and he had turned and shut the door behind us, he made my day. “Sure, babe. I’ll teach you how to drive one, and then you can ride one all by yourself.”

“What makes you think I don’t already know how to ride one?” I snarked.

All he had to do was look at me, and I gave in. “Okay, fine. You’ll teach me, and then I’ll ride one by myself.” And then added, “Really fast.” When he kept looking at me, I elaborated with, “I’m going to be the female, four-wheeler riding version of Speed Racer.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, just letting his eyes roam my face, his warmth permeating me from the inside, out. “Okay, Speed Racer. Let’s go check on Allison.”

Realizing I should have grown up, foregone the shower questioning, and done that several minutes ago, I agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

We walked straight down the hall, turned right into a double wide doorway, his hand finding it’s way to the small of my back again, and found ourselves in the living room, where Allison was laid out on the couch, her eyes focused on Timmy Two and a look of sheer awe on her face.

The house was absolutely beautiful, with old, refinished wood floors, crown molding, and tall ceilings, but it was completely devoid of personality. I considered mentioning the lack of decor to the men, but my thoughts pretty much stopped right there.

They were men. Question answered.

Danny walked across the room, around the couch, stopped, and stood right next to Timmy behind it, even mimicking his body language, planting his feet shoulder width apart and crossing his arms on his chest.