Love and Chaos: A Growing Pains Novel (15 page)

When she’d entered the house
’s address before she left, she’d complimented herself on how prepared she was
just in case.
Not having a signal hadn’t entered into her thick head.

She glanced up, waiting. Potholes and pock mar
ks marred the cement. Loose bits of gravel had worked their way onto the roadway from the side, not cleared away by road crews or heavy traffic. The trees swayed gracefully in the light wind, the morning sun shining through the branches and touching her face with warmth.

“So beautiful, but where the hell am I?”

Talking to herself—the first sign of insanity.

She clutched the
plastic case of her phone with whitened fingers. Shaking it didn’t elicit any more results.

“Damn it!” she swore, scaring a bird into taking flight
from a tree across the road.

She’d be late for wine tasting, and they’d wait for her. Of course they would. She was a guest. Not only that, but she knew Jace wouldn’t allow anyone to move until she was found
. Judging by how he ordered the guys around, and how often he was obeyed—almost always—he was the leader of the kids in that family, and when he put his foot down, everyone listened.

He’d probably beat
en that respect into them as kids.

Okay, how to get home.

God damned phone and its God damned lack of signal!

She turned around, pointing to
north. Thanking the inheritance of her father’s sense of direction—although, the sun was a pretty great indicator, as well—she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember the direction of the house. And tried. And started to make stuff up.

So that wasn’t good.

Swearing, she thought back to the direction she’d been running. Mostly east…right? She’d done some backtracking when she hit a small stream, but then she wound around until she was mostly east again.

The
mostly
would be the biggest issue, probably.

She glanced at her phone
, really hoping for the best. Then brought the thing closer, since a pixilated image of a map was just starting to populate. The GPS might not find her, but it did show fifty percent of a completely generic sense of where she was.

That’
ll do, Pig.

She t
ouched the face with her finger to mark the road in the center of the screen—that had to be the road she was on. A larger road connected off to the right. Beyond that, tan nothingness. The iPhone had better things to do than help her get back.

No problem, she’d start with that road.
Pointing at north, just to make sure it was still there, she headed off right, running at a fast jog. She hit that road in no time and brought up her phone, checking progress. The map had shown up, but the huge blue circle meant it was not ready to pinpoint her. Luckily, she could read a map just fine.

Another right had her running in the non-
existent bike lane on the side of the road alongside dirt and bushes. If a car came, her James Bond dive would result in plenty of scratches. It was a two-car road, though, albeit narrow, so she was on the right track. If everything weren’t just the same generic
pretty
around here, she’d probably have a better sense of landmarks.

She brought her phone up as her breathing started to labor. Ten past nine and a smaller blue circle.

C’mon phone, how much farther?

Forcing her feet to eat pavement, pumping her arms, she pushed harder, trying to make out the jiggling picture on her phone as she held it in front of her face. Full picture with a smaller circle and red dot. The two were nearly touching. Probably a mile—hopefully less.

Taking deep breaths as streams of sweat dribbled down her face and body, Cassie cleared her mind and focused on the air. On the road. On the burn in her legs and the swing of her body. She’d always been a runner—the midfielder on her soccer team who ran the most but never seemed to get tired. She was older now, but with a brother who liked to keep in shape, and an almost-sister-in-law who ran nearly every day, Cassie had plenty of encouragement to keep up her fitness. And thank god for that, because time was a’tickin’!

Another glance told her that she was nearly there—
soon she’d turn onto that tiny road that led to the house. Clearing her mind again, she ran. Felt her body and breathed. Thought about nothing. Put herself in the zone.

As she ne
ared the turnoff, the roar of a Harley interrupted her thoughts. Dazed, she glanced around, like a war vet flinching from a bomber flying overhead. The bike slowed behind her. Jace sat in the seat, his huge arms and tattoos emphasizing that
raw
quality about him that gave her a thrill.

He slowed to a stop as she bent over and panted. “Where’ve you been?”
he demanded.

“Stupid phone.” She held up the devi
ce with one hand as she braced on her knee with the other. “Got lost.”

“You should’ve told me your path. I’ve been looking for you for half an hour.”

She ignored the growl of his voice as she straightened up, mopping the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt. She just caught him looking at her stomach. “Checking out my flab?”

His stern gaze stared her down.

“If I knew my path, O ye harbinger of…something—I’m too tired to find a nice way of calling you a douche. I don’t know my way around here, remember? I don’t live here. I thought my phone could get me home, but I didn’t account for the spotty service.”

“You’re in the country. What did you expect?”

She dropped her hands and stared at him with a slack jaw. “Seriously? I just told you what I expected. You’re going to have to be a lot more intelligent about this sort of thing if you expect me to cower.”

Those beautiful eyes in the firm mask of dominance held her like prey, making her sp
ine tingle in flight reflex. That gorgeous face attached to the splendor of his body, sitting astride a loud and rough vehicle, had her sexy systems revving and her groin tightening. But the sweat drenched shirt, the panting from fatigue, and her, most likely, beet red and seriously ugly face dashed any sort of romantic fantasy she could conjure up.

Instead of swooning, she just
stared back, too tired for much else.

“Get on,
” he commanded.

“I’m all sweaty…”

“Get on.”

“Aren’t you supposed to club me over the head before you drag me back to your cave?”

He revved the bike, the vibration licking up her body. So that was apparently the metaphorical club.
Okie dokie, then.

She stepped forward carefully, having climbed on a bike or two in her day, but not usually with shaking legs moaning from the workout she’d just given herself. She took two fistfuls of his shirt and swung her protesting leg over the back of the bike. Her groin muscles tweaked, making her fall forward to prevent a muscle pull as they tightened up.

“I should’ve properly stretched. Also, you’ll need to change your shirt after this.” Cassie placed her hands on his shoulders so she could adjust her position, marveling at the hardness beneath. She balanced her butt on the seat
just so
, preventing the lean forward against the broad back in front of her. Where to hold, though? Was she allowed to snake her arms around his middle in his situation? Was that in the ‘safe’ zone?

“Here.” A small black helmet and a large rugged hand materialized around his body.

“Uh…”

“Wear it. I only have one.”

“What about you?”

He half turned,
causing the bike to tilt right, held by his feet planted on the ground. She yelped and clutched onto him, since she didn’t have any anchor, dragging her sweat soaked front along his no longer clean white shirt.

She
had warned him.

“You’re more liable to fall off than I am. Take the damn helmet. You still have to shower. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Okay, okay.” She took the hard plastic and fitted it to her head. He turned toward the front as she worked the clasp, and then gingerly laid her palms on the sides of his body.

“Hold on tighter.”

“Okay, but…you have a woman, and this—“ She squealed as the bike lurched forward and immediately wrapped her arms around the hardest body she’d felt in quite a while. Her palms found new purchase on his six-pack and the front of her body molded to his back. The vibrations of the bike bubbled up her middle as every inch of her being started to smolder.

She closed her eyes and soaked up the feel of him
, loving the grind of the Harley underneath her. When he leaned to steer, she leaned too, hugging him tight for balance. For the first time on the back of a bike—the very first—she relinquished the desire for control. She let go completely, trusting him with her life as he took the turn onto the smaller road fast enough to give her a thrill. As he zoomed up toward the house, she rested her chin on his back and slid her hands higher, holding on to his pecs and letting him get her home safely.

He slowed before they reached the house, maybe trying to keep the noise down—which was a futile effort—giving her another few seconds to enjoy his body. To marvel at the feel of him, as perfect to touch as he was to look at. As they coasted in to a stop, she slowly let her hands slide down to his lat muscles before she, regretfully, took them away.

She was probably going to get bitch slapped one day.

“Hurry. You have about half an hour,” he ordered in a low, tight voice. “And next time you take off running, I’ll go with you.
”

“Big protector man, huh? It would’ve been fine if I had all the time in the world. I nearly made it back without your help.”

She swung her leg over the bike, staggering a couple feet on protesting muscles. She handed over the helmet and met a fierce gaze.

She sighed dramatically, just to get the point across. “Fine. If you think you can keep up, be my guest.”

“Go.” He gestured her into the house with his head.

“God. Pushy.” She couldn’t help the smirk.

Not three steps through the door and she heard, “She’s here, she’s here! Mama!”

With a big grin, Lesley went running
from behind the couch and across the living room to the kitchen. Michael poked his head out a second later, a cracker in his hand.

“What do you have there?” Cassie grinned at him.

With a sheepish smile, he slowly melted back behind the couch. He still hadn’t completely shed his shyness around her.

Peter came out from the kitchen with a harried expression. “Where have you been? Are you okay?
It’s almost time to go!”

“I was out before you woke up. Thought I’d get in a run and check out the scenery.”

“On foot? Cassie, sweetie, you saw what? A few trees and a bush or two? How was that a good idea? You know you get distracted and lose track of time.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she dragged him along upstairs. In their shared bedroom,
she stripped out of her shirt and shorts. “How’s it going?”

“I hope you don’t think you’re skipping the shower, honey. Because you look ten shades of terrible.”

Cassie rummaged through her small section of closet for an outfit—Peter had insisted she hang up some things.

“And what is the story with those panties? Is that what girls call period underwear, or what?” Peter leaned up against the door.

“I see you are acting like
you.
How are things going? Yesterday you had a great time, it seemed like—has that continued today?”

A smile drifted on
to his face. “Yesterday was the best time I have ever had at one of these things. I completely let my hair down, and the more I let the true me show, the more they laughed and jabbered. I swear, it was like they were opening up at the same time I was.”

Cassie couldn’t imagine those girls being any more open, but she didn’t mention that. Instead, she smiled. All too soon, though, the glee faded.

“My dad noticed, though. This morning he looked me over and shook his head. He said something to the effect of my girlfriend being more man-like than me. That the women should be giggling on the sidelines, not the other way around.”

Cassie’s jaw dropped. Even if Peter wasn’t gay, that comment was meant to be mean
.
Also, it was offensive to her, because it implied only men were supposed to sweat and play sports.

Indignation welled up. “What. An. Ass. What did you say?”

Peter shrugged miserably, sinking in on himself. “I didn’t have to. Jace was there.”

“What does that mean? He punched your father in the mouth? Because that’s what the closed-minded old jerk—no offense—deserved for that comment.”

“Jace always sticks up for me. Always has. Nick and Demetri have always been bosom buddies, so when they would pick on the runt—me—Jace would come barreling in. He still does with our dad.”

Cassie walked over and gave Peter a big hug. “This sucks, I know.”