Let Your Heart Drive (14 page)

His grin widens revealing his pearly whites, he simply shakes his head and says, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but since I’m a glutton for punishment I’ll bite.”

I part my lips to spill out my words, but I’m cut short when his lips press against mine. Slowly the world starts to spin. I brace myself, terrified I’ll fall so far in his embrace that I’ll be lost, lost in him and his heated kiss. And then both of his strong hands cradle my face and unexpectedly I’m no longer lost—
I’m found
. His mouth beckons me to let go and savor the moment. Tenderly, achingly he stakes his claim over me making my hands grip him closer as if I’ll be swept miles away. I feel the column touching my back as he hungrily advances and I quickly realize this is something we’ve both wanted and desperately needed.

He pulls away first and whispers against my swollen lips, “I’m sorry, you were about to say
something—
” His eyes never leave my mouth and his words are rushed and throaty.

I press my lips together, tasting his kiss still clinging to my mouth and whisper back, “That you’re a great kisser.” 

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.”

– Sylvia Plath

We kiss
, isolating the entire whimsical world around us, our tongues dance, my heart pounds and all I can think about is his undeniable rapture. The intoxicating scent of him, the feeling of our bodies crushing together and then we hear a sound. A boisterous pronounced grumble as someone smugly clears her throat. Trey and I both look toward the steps leading up to the gazebo, a red-haired middle-aged woman dressed in a black pantsuit with a bright canary-yellow top and matching shawl tossed aptly across her boney shoulders, glares at us. She huffs like we should apologize for our actions, but Trey does nothing of the sort. He seizes my hand, steers me closely behind him, making a mad dash down the stone steps and past her surly face.

We race back to the museum laughing.

By the time we make it to his truck my side cramps from our swift, spur of the moment, getaway. I laughed the whole way like we’re a couple of kids kissing behind a white steeple church. Trey collapses against his truck beside me, capturing his breath, he smiles and says, “You’re not ready to go home yet, are you?”

How could he ask me a question like that? After our heart-pounding kiss there’s not a place in this world that I rather be at than with him.

I shake my head and answer, “For some strange reason, I’m starving.”

He shoots a dark flirty brow up and replies with, “I have Doritos, remember? However, I do have some place in mind…” He eases off his truck and opens the passenger door for me. Once inside he starts the engine and flips the heater on trying to warm the chilly space between us. His lean body slants my way briefly as he pops open the glove compartment and snatches a bag of Doritos out. “What if I take you for a burger, fries, and a beer?”

He holds the blue Cool Ranch bag like it’s a sweetener, making his deal even more enticing. I have to admit, it’s been awhile since I’ve munched on the deliciously seasoned tortilla chips and it does make my mouth water at the mere sight of them. But his new offer sounds ten times more appealing. I buckle myself in and return his ambitious grin. “I would love to have a burger, fries, and a beer with you.”

We rumble down the busy streets of Tulsa, till ten minutes later we arrive at a place called Fat Guy’s Burger Bar in the Brady’s Art District. It’s nestled just on the backside of a ballpark. A two-story historic, Main Street styled storefront with a green and white awning hanging over the dark tinted windows. “This is one of the best places to eat, especially if you love burgers and fries,” Trey boasts and hops out.

For a second time today, he helps me out and stabilizes my balance, he stands a bated breath away with both of his strong, sturdy hands on my hips. He does that slow seductive smile of his as he watches me silently. It’s only a sliver of a moment, but I sense he wants to kiss me again. But, disappointingly he doesn’t, instead he wheels us around and takes us inside the bar.

We wait in line and I scan the giant menu in front of us, fat burgers-double meat, cheeseburgers and bacon burgers to jumbo burgers with triple meat. Which they call this
the home of the fat and juicy
where they take two pieces of freshly ground beef, infuse them with straight, delectable butter and cheese in-between them and grill’em. And if this isn’t enough, they offer ballpark fries, original or spicy. Plus, there’s a complete chili menu, chili cheese fries and chili cheese dogs, but as my eyes lower and I spot their burger toppings. You have the usual condiments, ketchup, mustard, pickles
and
grilled pineapple, Thai chili, jalapeno relish, Srirancha.

Trey lightly nudges my arm as he says, “They have a secret recipe for their bread from what I hear and it’s baked by a local bakery, it has a Hawaiian sweet taste to it.” 

I nod acknowledging him and reply, “So…let me guess, you’re having the pizza burger,
no
, the thunder burger. Am I right?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I usually have the fat and juicy with a side of ballpark fries, you?”

“I was way off,” I admit and push the sleeves of my cardigan up. I’m in way over my head, everything looks addictingly appetizing and it will possibly put me in some kind of meat coma. Without looking back at him I deliver, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll have the same as you.”

He grins questionably. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“And what kind of beer do you want?”

“Just a MGD is fine.”

He orders for us and we grab a seat. At the museum, he’d asked about me, my trip and I remember him mentioning his mom, so I decide I need to learn a little more about him. “Have you lived here all your life?”

He takes a sip from his beer and I watch as he licks his lips before he answers, “Yeah. Well, my sister and I own a ranch about twenty miles outside of Tulsa where we grew up. My mom turned it over to us when she moved to Texas.”

I nip at my lower lip discreetly as they sit our food on the table, holding off my questions I wait. The burger is a mountain of meat, cheese, and green chilies and I know the minute I bite into it, it’ll be a heated messy ecstasy. The mound of fries is a whole other story which comes with a creamy dipping sauce. Caramelized onion Aioli is mine, Trey’s dipping sauce is parmesan peppercorn—
who comes up with this stuff?

As we eat—I interrogate him. “
So…
is there a long commute for you? You know, from work and back?” I ask and bravely take a bite.

He coats a fry and meets my eyes as he teases, “What is this some kind of interrogation?”

“Maybe,” I mumble, my mouth lights on fire and I’m afraid I’ve lost all sensation to my taste buds and if I swallow I’ll fry my vocal cords. I quickly reach for my beer so I can extinguish the fire. I plaster on my best smile and act like my internal organs haven’t burst into flames from that hotter-than-hell cheeseburger.

Trey bites into his without a flinch and asks, “Did you learn how to be an interrogator from your Dad?”

I shrug and wipe my mouth off. “You pick up a few things being a cop’s daughter,” I coolly reply, thanking the heavens that I can still feel my lips. Next time, I truly need to check the added toppings to the meals Trey orders.

He smiles at me like he knows I’m warring a heated battle inside, but he never says anything. “All right, well, if you really want to know, I have my own apartment here in Tulsa, but Melanie’s needed some help out at the ranch this past year. So I’ve moved a few of my things out there and drive an hour to work.”

“Now, are you older than her or younger?”

“Older, I’m twenty-five and she’s twenty-three,” he says taking a swig, washing away the burn I’m sure, and if not then he’s hiding it pretty well. He clears his throat and drawls out, “Which brings up something I wanna ask you, you’re not really twenty-two are you?”

I drown a fry in aioli and try to recall when I told him my age, but my memory comes up blank. The only thing that I know that would tell him was my car rental agreement, it would have my birthday, my address, and my phone number.

“No, I’m not. I’m really fifty-five, I had some major plastic surgery done, you know how all the celebs there in California do it,” I joke caressing the side of my face like I’m not in the least bit ashamed of it. 

“You don’t say? Well I guess that explains why you look so much like Jessie James Decker.”

“Who?”

Before he takes another mouthful of his mondo-sized burger he explains, “The country singer.”

I gulp down a needed swig of beer, square my shoulders and try to sound natural. “Sadly, I have no clue when it comes to country music.”

He chews and stares at me dubiously and in turn it makes him look like the sexiest man alive. It sends me back to when I first saw him at the fair, beautifully mysterious.

“Sounds like we’ll have to rectify that. I’ve already introduced you to Kip…” he pauses swiping a hand across his face as if he’s making sure there’s no evidence of his meal. There’s not, besides even if there was a hint of mustard or ketchup, I’d be deeply tempted to lick it off.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that catchy tune,” I sass gently pushing my half-eaten plate away. Trey’s probably thinking I’m about to shed tears because my eyes turn watery and my face feels like I’ve stood in a sauna.

He scrunches his brows together with concern. “Are you through?”

“Yeah,” I say as my quick-witted come back, it doesn’t matter how much I drink or how many consoling sauce-coated fries I stuff the heat from the green chilies are killing me. 

He snickers and takes a slow, long drink before he continues, “So Ms. Noelle, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

I brush the wayward strands of hair from my face and hide my smile by nipping on the corner of my lip. “Well roadside, it depends.”

“On?” he asks roguishly bracing his elbows on the table.

“If I recover from the fat and juicy.”

He grins and lets out a whole-hearted laugh. Ever so lightly he shakes his head and says, “You’re not going to believe this, but I can help you recover from the heat.”

I choke and cough out sharply, “How?”

He points at the chili-laced burger as a server saunters up. “Can I get a glass of water with a lemon?” She struts off and a few moments later she arrives back with Trey’s request. He pours a packet of sugar in the tall iced glass and slides it toward me and states, “Beers are usually the best with their burgers
but—
”

“But sugar water will do the trick, huh?” He sends me an encouraging nod and motions for me to drink up.
Is there not a single thing this man doesn’t know?
I accept his sugar water remedy and chug down the lemony cold sweetness. It’s a definite relief, surprisingly, and I chalk up the fact that I am no spicy, chili pepper lover, not anymore. I guess after so long things can change, no matter how much I once loved it.

“Better?”

“Much better,” I mumble between drinks, finally I set the glass down and glance up at him. “Well, since you helped salvage my taste receptors, I think the very least I can do is accompany you to wherever or whatever you have planned for tomorrow.”

-

Trey drives me home before the night calls dibs on the sky, it’s tranquil and almost sad to see the sun slip so vibrantly away. We’re parked in my sister’s driveway, the neighborhood is unnaturally quiet, except for chanting cicadas and lonely crickets. Trey’s radio plays so quietly that it’s nothing more than faint background noise. I stash the bag of Doritos in my brown oversized handbag, Chelsea’s handbag, her dire, urging accessory. Her way of adding flare/color to my all white attire for today. It matched my leather belt and brown buckled shoes so I didn’t complain. Now, sitting here with him, I start scrutinizing myself. I pick at the dark furry lint on my jeans nervously.

“I had a really good time today,” he announces with his arms hanging over the steering wheel.

“Yeah, so did I.”

He’s not making a move to get out of truck and I seek comfort in that simple fact. I also relish in the lingering cologne and leather aroma inside, haunting the space between us. It smells completely him, his lips, his body, his essence, like it’s something you want wrapped around you so tightly and forget where you’re at.

“Sin?” he voices, deep and resonating, he’s turned facing me, an arm stretches across the seat.

“Yeah?” I breathe out, feeling my heart race when he touches my chin.

“I really had a great time with you,” he repeats, and I note that he emphasizes
really
in his admission. But then his fingers trail down my chin and he tilts it up. The world separates the moment his lips land on mine and a new life blooms with a heart staining love. I do the one thing I’ve wanted to do since our first kiss, I carelessly thread my fingers in his baby soft hair. And I let him taunt me, tease me, and will me to stake my own claim on him. My mind memorizes the fullness of his lips, the taste of his tongue, and the way he commands my mouth to submit.

Willingly I open myself more to him and break the kiss, arching my back I guide his lips down my neck. Needing, demanding to feel him everywhere. My skin ignites under his kisses, burns with life when his mouth sucks and pulls deeply and all I can do is brace myself against the storm he awakens. My aching breasts caress so roughly against his beating chest that he stops. Mid-kiss, mid-grasp and he breathes heavily beside my ear, “Sin?”

I lean myself closer, attempting to confiscate a normal inhalation. Slowly I formulate a word, “Trey?”

“Does this mean you really enjoyed the museum or is it somethin’ about a truck?”

I laugh as he climbs tender kisses back up my neck to the edge of my chin and finds my mouth. We fall together in our own minute of bliss, savoring each other and I clutch onto him a little tighter knowing his presence will soon be a ghost. I’ve never been worshipped like this, by just a taste and by just a breath. He gently slips away and leans back waiting for my reply, but I can’t summon one.

He glances out of the windshield and grins boyishly.