Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (33 page)

“Aw, come on, baby. We've got this side of the waterfall all to ourselves. You're a lovely lady tonight, and I'm a hot blooded man, both of us rich as Midas. Stop fighting this thing we're both feeling. Let me be the first man to give it to you like nobody else ever will.”

His hard cock moved against my leg. I laughed as he dove for my neck again.

Crawford was nice, lean, and strong, but he was either the clumsiest kisser I'd ever been with, or I was more drunk than I thought.

“Wait, wait. Let's not get carried away. I want to take this slow, Craw.” I pushed against his chest until he rocked back.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You? Slow? Shit, that's not the Meg Willow Wilder everybody knows. They all said you'd have your lips wrapped around me by now...”

I froze up, staring at him like he'd just punched me in the face. Hot, drunken anger burned my cheeks, so sultry they'd rage like furnaces if I reached up and touched them.

Okay, sure, I knew I had a reputation. But he was calling me a slut to my face, and expecting me to act like one. Consider me blindsided.

“You've been talking to other guys about me?”

Crawford's turn to blush. “Meg, come on, it's not like that. I just mean I thought you'd want to have some fun tonight, that's all. I didn't know you'd become a good girl overnight. Baby, who do I look like?”

Smiling, he inched towards me, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You don't have to use your mouth with me for anything but a warm-up. Your friends talk a lot. I know you're still a virgin in one way, Meg. I know I'm good enough to fuck you. Why are you fighting this so hard, baby? Give me what I want tonight, and I'll give you all kinds of things that'll make you scream.”

This couldn't be happening. Was he seriously bribing me? Trying to buy me off with some sick quid pro quo? Hell, with the way he'd been talking, he probably just wanted to bang me and brag about it to his friends.

My eyes bugged out as I fought him off, pushing through the cool mountain pool, covering my boobs with one arm.

I'd heard enough. I turned my back to him, swam several strokes to the rocky wall lining the pool, and clambered out. Crawford yelled something after me, but I barely heard him over the burbling waterfall next to us.

“Meg, wait! We can talk this out. I'm sorry, I got carried away. Come back!”

I couldn't believe it. Just when I wanted to get my life together, this asshole rubbed my reputation in my face, acting like he expected me to suck him off just because I'd been a total slut in the past.

Well, those days were over. I found my dress and towel laying on the nearby cooler where I'd placed them. I quickly dried myself off and dressed.

I didn't want him to follow. If he had another chance to talk to me later, it'd only be after I cooled off.

Maybe I'd whored myself to too many men. That was my mistake. But
nobody
treated me like they were entitled to my body or my family name, and I wasn't going to let Crawford be the first.

I didn't care if his family was a little richer than mine. Being a Wilder gave me all the wealth I'd ever need. It also meant I wasn't backing down for anyone who came after my ego, whether or not they had some truth behind it.

I stomped into the forest, heading onto a half-overgrown path. The clear night stars shone overhead, complemented by a huge summer moon. A walk would clear my head, take the edge off his stupid comments. I'd return in an hour or two and go from there, depending on how I felt.

I knew Becky would be screwing around with Tim Yates for a few more hours. I expected to stumble across her in some corner of the forest, rolling in the dirt with her latest dirty talking pump and dump crush.

They never lasted long. I could say the same, and the old Meg would've just shut up and went along with Crawford for the night, if only he were a better kisser.

I hated getting older. Thinking about my career, my family, finding my future husband just brought more anxiety. But nothing made me more anxious than thinking about the party lifestyle forever.

I couldn't creep toward thirty still acting like I was twenty-one. No fucking way.

When I came into a cool, dark clearing, I stopped to admire the view. The moonlight came down through the break in the trees. I walked over to the smoothest mountain boulder and sat, feeling the dew veil against my legs.

God, what a beautiful night. So, why was it becoming so ugly?

Soft, transparent mist swirled low on the ground. They didn't call them the Smoky Mountains for nothing.

I was busy focusing on the beauty when I heard something snap nearby. I spun and saw a figure coming through the darkness. Figuring it was Crawford, I bolted up, folding my arms, ready to hear his pathetic apologies.

“Look, before you start, I'm not in the mood for excuses.”

“Excuses? My, my, girl. I'd say you're right out of a dream, standing here in the dark up in these mountains, but you're too angry to be a fantasy.” His voice was older, too arrogant and gravely to be Craw's.

I whipped around and faced a tall, rugged looking man with a cap pulled tight over his eyes. He wore tight jeans and an open shirt. He looked like he'd just wandered out of a lumber mill or something.

Great. Running into weirdos up here in the boonies was exactly what I needed.

“Sorry. I...I thought you were somebody else.” I looked him up and down, sizing him up. “What're you doing out here?”

He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing. Seems you've gone a long way from the party happening down by the springs.”

Crap.
How did he know? We must've been really noisy, or else he just knew his turf that well.

Better than me, if I had to run.

Shuffling my feet uncomfortably, I tried not to think about how fucked I really was. I didn't know this man, nor his intentions.

Nobody except Crawford knew I'd run off – and knowing how much of a bitter wimp he was, he wouldn't be coming to my rescue. I could only hold my ground, and hope to God this was just some eccentric mountain man wanting to make friendly conversation.

“Too noisy for me,” I lied. “I wanted to get away and enjoy the forest beauty while I'm up here. I don't get out to the Smokies as often as I'd like.”

His thin smile widened, and he took a step closer. I was about to bolt when he flopped down on the boulder next to me, spreading his arms wide, staring up at the sky.

“It's a gorgeous fucking night, ain't it? My name's Richard, by the way.” He tilted his head up and shot me a wink. He reached into his pocket.

I couldn't help but smile and feel a little more ease creep in when he drew out a small silver flask.

“Care for a swig? It's our very own moonshine. My grandpa's recipe.”

I shook my head. Okay, maybe he wasn't the danger I'd feared at first.

Just a big, drunken mountain goof. I hoped. I'd seen his type before out hiking, and they never did any harm.

Friendly or not, there was no way I'd share a flask with a stranger.

“Suit yourself, princess.” He popped the cap and took a long pull, then emptied the rest on the ground. “I was bullshitting you about the moonshine. It's just plain ol' Jack.”

“Decent choice. Do you come here often, or maybe live nearby?” I decided to make small talk, taking my place several rocks away, fixing my eyes on the same distant stares filling his eyes.

“I'm a hiker. Nothing builds a man up like a bull better than taking these mountains one step at a time. It's always an adventure up here. You ever see the abandoned ghost towns tucked back in these mountains? People worked and lived and died in these parts for generations before they flew the coop, leaving their homes and a few old tractors behind. There's something charming about that. It takes you back, away from all this shit in our lives, you know? Simpler times. I like 'em.”

I nodded glumly. Redneck or not, he was nice, and eerily in touch with my own feelings tonight.

Just then, I'd have given anything to get away from all my frustrations. Sure, I could hop a flight to Europe or the Caribbean next week, like I'd done on my summers off from college, but those getaways never lasted forever.

“Tell me more about your adventures again. Sometimes I think I could use some of that.”

He tucked the flask back in his pocket, then sat up and smiled. “I do a lot of trucking when I'm away from home. It's hell half the time, honestly, driving down the Florida panhandle or all the way out to Cali-fucking-fornia with some boss riding my ass. But there's always a new experience every route, and that's what keeps me working more than just the money. New faces, new things, new thrills. You haven't been living 'til you've been through Wyoming in the winter and almost felt the wind blow your rig over.”

“Sounds scary,” I said, warming up more than I really should. A lot of it was the alcohol, a delayed buzz in my veins, but his tone sounded so honest, authentic in a way all the rich boys and girls I always hung around with couldn't be.

“You'd better believe it. The shitty parts of LA will make you feel alive too, when some gangbanger decides to take potshots at your truck just for sport. It's funny how being on the open road and putting up with so much shit makes a man appreciate the quiet more.”

He stood up and walked out into the clearing, stretching toward the sky. I believed him.

“You said you don't come out here often? Well, hell, neither do I. And that's what makes me love it when I do. When you're busy dealing with crowded cities and traffic jams half the time like I am, these mountains are a slice of heaven. I wouldn't trade my adventures for nothing, even the shitty parts, because they make home what it is.” He turned, his eyes narrowed. “Don't tell me this is as wild as you get? Skipping out on your friends and looking like you're about to freak the second some stranger says 'hello?'”

Christ, was it really that obvious? I smiled uneasily, shaking my head.

“Sorry. I'm a little on edge tonight. Like I said, I don't come up here often. You never know what a strange man might want out in the boonies.”

“What if he just wants to give you a good time?” He paused, just long enough to feel my heart sink, while tension roiled my belly. “I'm not talking about fucking, girl.”

That caught me off guard. I twisted my head, stood up, creeping closer as he extended a hand.

“You're too pretty for me anyway. Let's be friends for the night. I'll take you out for a burger and a malt.” His smile grew, and I watched him reach into his pocket, this time taking out a pack of cigarettes.

I didn't know what the hell to think. He was offering me a chance to leave my comfort zone behind. I had a weird feeling he could give me something authentic too, if only for an evening. He wasn't really my type – even for a fling – but if he really didn't care about that...

“No, Richard, I really shouldn't. I don't know you. My friends are waiting.”

“Aw, come on. What's your name?”

“Megan.”

His hand shot out, taking mine in his after I'd turned him down before, giving my fingers a tight, over-friendly squeeze.

“There. Now that we know each other, what do you say? You're a local, aren't you? We'll go get some grub and keep this conversation going. Then I'll drop you off before midnight. I know you want to get outta here, I can see it in your face. What've you got to lose?”

His soft, whimsical tone held a challenge. I hated being taunted, and he wasn't even doing it openly.

He shrugged impatiently. “Go tell your girlfriends if you need to. Let 'em know you're going out with Richard for a bite. That's all this is, babe, I promise.  What do you think's gonna happen? You'll wind up on some late night murder mystery show with your eyes blacked out and duct tape on your mouth?”

Laughter belted out his gut, echoing through the shadowy forest. His laugh was high, sharp, and so unexpected I couldn't stop myself from giggling too.

“Okay, you win. You don't look like a killer or a rapist.”

He began walking me down the path, the one leading further and further into the Smokies, away from Crawford's private property.

One more wink was all I needed to let him lead me along like a stupid schoolgirl.

If only I'd done something then. I could've run, yelled, screamed bloody murder, or at least re-awakened my old instinct to sober up and ask myself why the
hell
I decided to walk through the eerie mountains to a total stranger's pickup truck.

But he never made a move, not even when I was securely in his passenger seat, and we headed down the lonesome highway. He had to lure me deeper first.

* * * *

I
flipped the greasy burger over in my hands. I was hungry, yeah, but the deserted diner offered up some serious crap. I couldn't finish it.

The conversation wasn't going much better. Richard kept talking about his ex, some woman who walked out on him when he was my age, which must've been over a decade ago just looking at him.

I wasn't in the mood for lonely, stupid men tonight, however nice they might be. Whatever, at least it was better than hanging around, waiting for Crawford's awkward apologies. I reached into my purse for my phone at one point, only to realize I'd stupidly left it somewhere near the pool.

“Fuck,” I sputtered, choking down a sickeningly sweet sip of strawberry milkshake.

“Yeah, I thought so too, baby doll. They always love you and leave you real fast, the bitches. If she'd stuck around, I'm sure my life would've been a lot more exciting by now. I wouldn't have to work my ass off every day and take these mountain hikes. Hell, I'd probably have a family, maybe a house, instead of renting a studio apartment above that goddamned forsaken place.”

I blinked, barely even paying attention to his long, rambling life story anymore. “Hang on. I need to hit the restroom.”

I headed in and splashed cool water over my face, looking for a pay phone on the way out. There had been one – I could see the faint gray outline where it used to attach to the wall, now ripped out, leaving a shadow like a relic from another time.

A cab ride home sounded awfully good right now. Unfortunately, short of asking the restaurant to make a call on their business phone, it wasn't looking like an option.