Snake Charmer (Rawkfist MC Book 2) (3 page)

Donovan

T
hursday can’t arrive fast enough.

Ever since waking up this morning after
a long night shift, I’ve wondered about the moment Journey walks into Pam’s
Pizza. Will she wear a smile or a frown? Will she bail on the date?

If she does show, Journey would likely
arrive early to ensure she can dictate where we sit. She’ll want to control the
tempo, but I have other plans.

I arrive nearly an hour before our date
and get comfortable in a spot near the back. Moving a few times, I look like a
nut-job, but I don’t care what the Tumbling Rock folks think. I’m only
interested in Journey’s reaction.

To my surprise, she looks nervous when
she arrives twenty-five minutes before we’re supposed to meet. She doesn’t see
me immediately, having assumed she beat me to the restaurant. I watch her
fidget with her hair and wipe makeup from under her eyes. She’s dressed up more
than usual and clearly uncomfortable.

Once Journey spots me, her expression
morphs into annoyance. I’ve outwitted her, and I suspect she isn’t accustomed
to losing. Exhaling hard, she walks to where I wait with a long ago ordered
drink.

“You have a dog,” Journey says, sitting
down with a hard thump.

“Yes. Do you?”

“No. Tell me about your dog.”

“Why?” I ask, leaning back. “Are you
afraid of them?”

“Of course not.”

“You look beautiful.”

Journey reaches instinctively for her
hair before forcing her hand down. “I know. You look handsome.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Journey narrows her eyes, really wanting
me to know she’s unhappy to be here. “Let’s talk about your dog.”

“Kitty is a Basset Hound and about two
years old. He snores in his sleep and howls at the moon. Anything else you need
to know? Oh, he’s up to date on his shots.”

“Why name him Kitty?”

“My uncle breeds a litter of Basset
Hounds a year. Kitty was a runt and has a gimp leg. No one wanted him. When I
offered to take him, my uncle warned the dog would be as useless as a cat. His
words stuck with me, so I named the pup Kitty.”

“Cute,” she says, eyeing the menu to
avoid looking at me.

“Any pets?”

“No.”

Leaning back in the chair, I cross my
arms. “Why would you lie about having pets?”

“I’m not.”

“The last time I saw Court, he showed
me the scratches on his hand where one of your cats went after him. Unless it’s
died since then, you’re lying.”

“Don’t even joke about my cats dying.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

When I give Journey my steely gaze, she
studies me and asks, “You’re hard to read. Is this you being funny?”

“No.”

“Good to know.”

“So why did you lie?”

“I don’t want to talk about me.”

“Well, that’s a curious thing
considering I don’t want to talk about me either.”

“So why are we here?”

“I want to know you.”

“Your version of knowing me has nothing
to do with hearing about my favorite movies.”

“I don’t know about that. I enjoy
hearing you speak. I like when you do the growly thing with your voice. Is that
enough for you to stick around for the rest of dinner?”

“Oh, I’m not leaving. You’re paying,
and I haven't eaten dinner.”

Grinning, I watch her cross her arms
and then uncross them when she realizes she’s inadvertently mimicked me.
Journey’s behavior is awkward in a way I find fascinating.

“Where did you learn to fight?” I ask,
thinking of how she whooped Becca in a bar fight last spring.

“I took a little karate years ago. I
also joined a boxing gym, but I never spent enough time there to get any good.”

“You handled Becca and her friends.”

“Beating down three losers doesn’t make
me Journey Kung Fu.”

“Have you ever beaten down a man?”

Journey shrugs, and I know the answer
is yes. She isn’t sure what to show me. Everything she hides makes me hungry to
know more. Nice move on her part, even if I sense she has no idea she’s playing
a game.

“Anyone nursing a broken heart back in
Indianapolis about you moving here?”

“No one worth mentioning. How come your
cousin doesn’t know your dating history when everyone in this town knows
everything about everyone?”

“I’m not from this town.”

“That isn’t much of an answer. I know
about the dating habits of people from nearby towns that I’ve never met. People
around here love to talk, but they don’t have anything to say about you.”

“That’s how I like it. People in
Tumbling Rock don’t look too fondly at the law. Anything they say about me is
bound to be negative.”

“Are your parents in law enforcement?”

“My parents are dead.”

Journey shifts in her chair, looking
awkward again. “I’m sorry.”     

“The world didn’t weep for them, and I
can’t say I shed too many tears over their deaths either.”

Journey raises one of her thick, dark
brows and gives me the once over. I don’t know what she’s thinking, and not
knowing nearly sends me across the table to kiss her frowning lips.

“I like my parents. Will this fact
bother you?” she asks, deciding to challenge me again.

“I’m not the bitter sort.”

“I suspect that isn’t true.”

“I’m as easygoing as they come.”

“Now who’s lying?”

Grinning, I lean forward and tap the
table. “I know who and what your father is. I’m not looking to start trouble
for a man who did right by Court. My cousin needed a man in his life, and your
father stepped up like no one else would.”

“I never suspected you of wanting to
harm my family.”

“Not even once,” I say, wagging a
finger at her. “You’re a terrible liar, Journey Sheerer. I’d never have guessed
that.”

“Can you blame me for wondering about
your sudden interest?”

Her expression remains defiant, but her
tone hints at a surprising insecurity. I can’t imagine men don’t chase her down
daily.

“Look at it this way. Your sister was
the first person in years to snitch out someone in Tumbling Rock. She testified
in court, which is something no one’s done in decades. Usually, if people call
the cops, they end up dropping the charges. Now if I or anyone else in the
department were to come down on your family, we’d look like assholes.”

“Not disagreeing with you there,
officer.”

“Deputy actually. It’s a sheriff’s
department, and I’m a deputy.”

“I won’t remember that.”

Smirking at her expression, I wait
until we’ve ordered before I push her for more details.

“Do you like your job?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are your pets’ names?”

“I can’t remember.”

Laughing, I nearly reach across the
table and take her hand. Knowing she won’t approve of touching yet, I control
myself.
For now.

“I find it curious how my promise not
to harm your family has actually made you crankier. Did you hope I was conning
you?”

“The fair was months ago,” Journey
says, revealing her insecurity again.

“I’ve been busy.”

“With a woman?”

“No. I’ve been on suspension. I
couldn’t exactly pull you over in my civilian vehicle.”

Journey frowns at my answer. “Do you
use that move a lot?”

“Of course not. My grandfather is the
sheriff, and he doesn’t play when it comes to proper procedures.”

“Do you like working for him?”

“Do you like your job?” I ask again,
making clear how I’m a closed book until she gives me something in return.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I mostly deal with pregnant women.
Often, they come in scared, and I enjoy being there when they first meet their
babies.”

Her tone unsettles me. I’ve spent
months wondering about this woman. In my mind, Journey was a lot of things –
tough, sarcastic, sexy - but sentimental wasn’t one of the qualities I assigned
to her. The sight of such tenderness in her makes remaining in my chair nearly
impossible.

“I want to kiss you,” I blurt out.

“Of course, you do,” she immediately
replies and then adds, “Who could blame you?”

“Is that an invitation?”

Journey’s arrogance falters for only a
moment before she covers with a disinterested shrug. “I want my free meal
first. Just in case the kiss is awful, and you try to run. I’d hate to have to
tackle you and lift your wallet to pay for dinner.”

“I promise even if you’re the worst
kisser in history, there’s no way I’m running away. Not when I can teach you
how to improve your skills.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’ve never had any complaints.”

“And people do talk smack around here,
so you’d probably hear something.”

“True.”

Journey studies me. Based on her now
unreadable expression, she’s either considering ditching me or throwing a
punch. Or possibly she wants to pucker up and plant a kiss on me. Her lack of
cues again enchants me.

“We have two cats and a dog,” Journey
says, relenting to date etiquette. “They’re dreadful animals, but I love them.”

Smiling at her olive branch, I’m dying
to get a taste of the mysterious Journey Sheerer. Once the food arrives, she
eats agonizingly slowly as if knowing what I have planned. The woman refuses to
make anything easy for me.

Journey

D
onovan possesses some serious
devil-like qualities. His lazy smile tempts me to forget everything I’ve ever
learned about men and their tricks. His amused gaze entices me to view myself
as a weak, little girl bowing to the urges of a big, strong man.

His brown hair is slicked back except
for a stray lock resting against his forehead. My fingers fidget with the urge
to reach across the circular table and press the hair into place. No doubt if I
make such a move, Donovan will seize me into his grip and refuse to let go.

When his gaze is on me, I feel alive in
a way I’ve never experienced. When he looks away, I’m naked and exposed. What
kind of power does he have over me?

Studying my drink, I wonder if it’s
spiked. How else can I explain the heat in my gut? Or the twisting sensation
disconnected from my brain’s better judgment? I need Donovan to like me. I ache
for him to find me attractive. I’m nothing without his approval.

What in the fricking hell is wrong with
me?

I make every effort to keep the
conversation awkward and pointless. We spend a good twenty minutes discussing
the naming choices of the small businesses in Tumbling Rock. Mia’s Muffins,
Sal’s Signs, Mike’s Mufflers. Had people specifically picked their business
ideas to match the first letters in their names?

“Journey’s Jumpsuits,” he suggests.

“Donovan’s Donuts.”

“That one isn’t half bad.”

We share a smile. Rather than relax,
I’m frustrated. “Dating seems like a lot of work. What’s the point?”

“I don’t know. I never date. If I had
to guess the point, I’d suspect it’s a formality humans go through to get
laid.”

“Don’t you want to get laid?”

“Of course, but I have a few lady
friends who don’t expect me to talk to them first. This conversation thing is
foreign to me.”

“A few?” I ask, wanting to punch him.

“Not all at once, of course.”

Fighting the forming fist, I keep my
right hand flat on my lap. “No, of course not.”

“I don’t believe in relationships,”
Donovan says as if being an asshole is part of his life philosophy rather than
a character flaw.

“If you think you’re getting lucky
tonight, you’re fricking stupid. I don’t normally throw around IQ assessments,
but for you, I’m making an exception.”

Donovan laughs, which irritates me more
than his “few lady friends” crap.

“You are so beautiful when in a rage,”
he says, taking a swig of his beer. “It makes me want to piss you off.”

“You’re doing a bang-up job, dumb
frick.”

Bursting into laughter, Donovan
literally wipes his eyes from chuckling so hard.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he says, running
his fingers over the battered wooden table top.

I watch his hand and instantly imagine
it touching me in the same way. Irritated by how stupid in heat I’ve become, I
remind myself I’m on my period and likely hormonal.

“I’m never fucking you,” I growl.

Without missing a beat, Donovan gives
me a sly smile. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Why would I want to be one of your
standby hooches?”

“Do you think I take those women out to
dinner? They call me when they’re in the mood, or I call them. We don’t get
pizza together in public places.”

Rolling my eyes, I ball up a napkin and
toss it at him. “They must feel so special.”

“Cool your jets. Do you really think
those girls wouldn’t ditch me in a heartbeat if they could find guys they
wanted to keep? They’re not sitting by the phone, waiting for my call either.
They have other guys they hook up with. I’m sorry I’m not the romantic sort,
but this dating thing is new for me. Based on all of your frowning, I suspect
you’re most definitely rusty at it too.”

“I’m picky about who I spend my time
with.”

Ignoring my angry tone, Donovan gives
me a sexy smile. “You’re close with your family.”

“Yes.”

“I saw the way you defended Justice at
the fair. It was natural like you have to do it a lot.”

“My sisters have big mouths and clumsy
fists.”

“Why don’t you teach them to fight?”

His question calms a bit of my
irritation at him by focusing my irritation on my sisters. “I did. They ended
up slapping the shit out of each other and then whining about how the palms of
their hands hurt and needed medical attention. I wouldn’t say it was a positive
experience.”

“I don’t have any siblings that I know
of, so I can’t relate.”

“You have Court.”

“We aren’t that close.”

“Why?”

“He’s in the Rawkfist club. I’m in the
sheriff’s department. People wouldn’t approve of us hanging out.”

“Would they think you were a bad cop or
Court was a snitch?”

“Both.”

“Do you really like your job or do you
have to say you do because of your family?”

“It’s okay.”

“Did you become a cop because of your
family or because you wanted to?”

“Family. Well, that and I didn’t have
anything else I wanted to do. Figured this was the easiest route.”

“Are you a lazy person?”

“Yeah, pretty much. How about you?”

“I admittedly enjoy sitting on my ass.”

Donovan doesn’t seem all that
interested in the pizza. My appetite can’t compete with my raging moods swings.
One minute, I hate imagining Donovan with anyone else. The next minute, I’m
pissed at the thought of him with me.

“You said you were on suspension. What
did you do?” I ask, wanting to start trouble.

“Shot a guy.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, or I would have said I killed a
guy.”

Narrowing my gaze, I ask, “Why did you
shoot him?”

“He had a weapon. I’d warned him, and
he didn’t put down his gun, so I shot him in the leg.”

“The leg?”

“I was aiming for his gut, but the sun
shined off his kid’s skateboard and blinded me for a second. Ended up hitting
him in the leg.”

“And you were suspended?”

“I have a history with him, so the
shooting needed extra scrutiny. My grandfather is by the book.”

“What kind of history?”

“I’d arrested him before, and he
claimed I was harassing him.”

“Were you?”

“No. He’s an asshole. That’s why he was
arrested before and why I shot him. He does dumb shit.”

“What kind of dumb shit?”

Donovan shifts in his seat and chuckles
awkwardly. “You’re tougher than the internal review.”

“I’m just curious.”

“No, you’re looking to point the finger
at me and say I’m a bad guy so that you can blow me off.”

“Well, there’s that, but I’m also
curious.”

Donovan doesn’t want to talk about the
shooting. He falls silent for a few minutes before forcing himself to tell me
the story. I admittedly enjoy his squirming.

“It all got started because of a noise
complaint. Someone bitched about his dogs barking day and night. I came to his
place to give him a warning, but he blew a gasket and went out back and started
kicking the dogs. That first arrest was for animal cruelty.”

Donovan pauses to gulp down some of his
beer. Around us, families enjoy their dinners. I see a few familiar faces but
ignore them. I don’t want anything distracting me from the man fidgeting across
the table.

“The next time I arrested him was after
he locked his teenage son out of the house. I showed up to find out what was
going on after neighbors called in about fighting at the house. So the asshole
comes running outside and punches the kid for calling the cops. That was arrest
number two, and when he started claiming I was harassing him.”

Donovan’s index finger circles the beer
bottle’s opening, and I instantly imagine the same motions around my nipples.
Before I can control myself, I fantasize about him touching my clit in the same
way. Lost in a state of arousal, I can no longer pretend I have the upper hand
with Donovan.

“This last time, a neighbor claimed the
asshole had her outdoor cat caged in his garage. When I showed up, he flew off
the handle and pulled a gun.”

“What about the cat?” I ask, trying to
think of anything besides sex.

“Returned to his owner.”

“Well, then it all turned out okay.”

Donovan smiles at me, but his easygoing
guy routine is a con. With the way he’d prefer to keep me at a distance rather
than share private information, he’s the male equivalent of me.

I can’t help worrying that two uptight,
closed off, and relationship-doomed people have no chance to make this date end
well.