WILD RIDE (9 page)

My
shock at his pronouncement and his suddenly-tense vibe brought the conversation
to a screeching halt.  We sat there in an awkward silence for a few seconds.  I
thought of Riley, how he would have spliced right through all that and cracked
a joke or made some off-hand sexual innuendo.  Even so, I didn’t wish for him. 
I focused instead on the shape of Nate’s mouth as he lightly bit into the soft
flesh of his lower lip.  He seemed almost … nervous, but the fleeting impression
barely touched his macho demeanor, and it passed quickly.

“Would
you like to have lunch with me?” he said.

My
stomach did another one of those funny little flips as our eyes met.

“You
must be hungry,” he commented, like I needed to be talked into it.  Like I
might refuse him.

“I
am hungry.  Famished, in fact.”  It was the quiet eagerness as he awaited my
answer that burrowed into some fissure in me.  I loved how
aware
he
was.  Emotionally layered.  Intellectually complex.  It was refreshing.  In
comparison, Cal was thick as a goddamn brick.  Nate simmered with a
perceptiveness I found myself wanting to dive into and swim around in.  Here he
was, this drop-dead gorgeous hunk of a man, with a red convertible and an
investment portfolio – not to mention his
other
phenomenal endowment,
beyond anything I’d ever seen or imagined – sitting there all expectant in that
staunch way of his.  Awaiting my acceptance of his offer.  Of lunch.  With him.

He
wasn’t just
hot
, he was
adorable
.  It seemed an unusual mix and
one that I was so intrigued by I thought I might already be half in love with
the brute.  Probably just those lingering endorphins amping me up.

And
he was still waiting.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I
would love to have lunch with you, Nate.”

He
smiled again.  A sort of humble, self-satisfied happiness. 
Damn.

“I
might just have a shower first, if you don’t mi—“

“You
don’t need one now.  I gave you a shower last night.  And I like your hair like
that.  All … curled.”  Curled was an understatement.  My white-blond hair hung
almost to my waist and in its natural state it was straight at the top, then
turned wavy at the tips, almost coiling at the very ends.  I often straightened
it, just to feel a little more … sophisticated, which was pretty much
ridiculous.  I sure didn’t need to pretend I was anything but a
down-on-her-luck hick when I was serving up drinks at The Rusty Nail.  Still, a
girl has to indulge her own sense of pride and respectability every now and
then, even if it’s all but irrelevant.  It was never for them that I made the
effort, anyway.  Not for Cal, in the end, or the friends I rarely saw or the
slurring, slovenly customers.  It was for me.

I
watched him.  I was used to taking orders of one sort or another from men, and
this didn’t feel like one.  It felt like a wish.  A sexy, hopeful request. 
There’d been nothing harsh about his tone, just a soft, masculine appreciation. 
Last night I’d felt almost crazed in my desire to please him.  And my body
remembered that urge, like an echo.  If I hadn’t already felt inclined to
follow his directive, what he said next didn’t just sell me, it melted
something inside me.

“Little
blond mermaid,” he whispered.  A charged, bonded jolt passed between us that I
felt all the way to my toes.

I
think you’re beautiful, Nate.  So beautiful.

I
feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven when I’m inside you.

“All
right,” I said slowly.  “Can I at least get dressed?”  I smiled at him.

“I’d
prefer if you didn’t, but people might stare.”

I
laughed a little.

“We’ll
find someplace casual,” he said.  “Where we can just talk.”

Within
the first few minutes of meeting Nate Walker, I’d guessed that he was a complex
character.  I now knew him in the carnal sense – and these were beautiful, fresh-minted
memories that kept playing across my mind in exquisite, knee-weakening detail. 
The thought of sitting down and getting to know him on a deeper level was
delightful to me.  I’d never done it this way before, but now I thought there
was something to this jump-into-bed-with-a-stranger approach.  We’d already hit
the homerun out of the park several times over.  We knew we were exceptionally
compatible in bed.  We knew we could give each other mind-blowing orgasms at
the drop of a hat.  Now, we could sit back and enjoy the intricacies of the
game.

For
an afternoon, anyway.

I
stood up, gathering my sheet around me.  “I’ll see if I can find something to
wear, then.”

He
watched me as I retreated.  I know, because I looked back at him.  He’d taken
his sunglasses off and was rubbing his face with his jaw.  Torn, that’s how he
looked.  Like he was making decisions that ran deep.

I
went into the living area and found my bag.  It was a small suitcase I kept in
my car, with a spare outfit to put on after work, after I’d changed out of my
Rusty Nail uniform, which consisted of short-short Daisy Dukes and a low-cut
black t-shirt.

There
wasn’t much to choose from, but I found a light yellow sleeveless fitted
shirtdress with little flowers around the hem.  I hadn’t worn it for a while. 
The design itself was young, but when I put it on, it didn’t look particularly
girlish.  Not at all, actually.  It hugged my curves almost
too
suggestively.  But I couldn’t really be choosy at this point.  My white
sundress was still up by the pool, possibly.  And there was nothing else in my
bag except a pair of shorts, a couple of tank tops, and a toothbrush.  I went
to brush my teeth.  As I did, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I
felt almost startled by my own reflection.  My hair was, as Nate had so
articulately pointed out, a little wild.  In a good way.  In an artfully
mussed, I’ve-just-had-the-best-night-of-my-life kind of way.  Which I had.

My
eyes were bright.  Unusually sparked, like a fashion photograph.  On my cheeks
were flags of pastel-pink.  And my lips looked bee-stung from all the kisses. 
There were a number of barely-there bruises on my neck and my arms. 
From
their hungry mouths and their gripping hands.

My
skin looked sun-kissed and there were sprinkles of freckles across my nose. 
Its golden tone offset the pale gleam of my hair.  I didn’t have any make-up
with me and I wouldn’t have bothered anyway.  I had never looked better – or
happier
– in my entire life.

Nate
was waiting for me, leaning against the doorjamb with his hands hitched loosely
into his pockets.  He was wearing jeans, well-worn cowboy boots and a white polo
shirt.  His skin was the color of cinnamon.  And the look on his face when he
saw me just about blew my mind.  It was the same look he’d given me when I was
about to …
to
sit down onto his thick, rigid cock, guiding him and
taking him into my body like I was starved for him.  Like I could never, ever
get enough.

It
was thrilling, somehow.  Having these blazing little flashbacks flicker across
my thoughts every time I looked at him.  The shape of his lips as he innocently
stood there reminded me of how he had
felt
. 
God
, that
mouth
,
and what it could
do
.  The way his Levi’s hung off his hips, hugging his
strong thighs.  I didn’t know if I’d ever touch Nate Walker again, but the
basest, most feminine impulses in me were reveling in the fact that I
had
,
in the most thorough, intimate way imaginable.

He
laced his fingers through mine.  For a second I thought he was going to take me
to bed.  Instead, he led me out the door and into the day.

***

We
walked out of the hotel and down the street.  It was a central location and
there were shops and restaurants as well as businesses and hotels.  Dallas
isn’t a city for walking, I would have guessed, but this was an area that
catered for the dying breed of Texans who actually enjoy strolling around.

Nate’s
hand still held mine in a loose clasp.

I
liked the feel of his grip: strong enough to be a rodeo hero but underscored
with a gentleness that kind of enchanted me.  He didn’t say anything for a
while and it was nice to just drink in the sights, with him at my side.  I’d
never been to a city this big.  It felt all cosmopolitan and layered in a way I
wasn’t used to.  There were people speaking different languages.  I saw some of
the designer stores that are advertised in Cosmo.  Gucci.  Ralph Lauren.  Dolce
and Gabbana.  Nate was sort of watching me and my wide-eyed fascination like my
fascination somehow fascinated
him
.

I
had to admit, it was nice, walking along hand in hand like that.  Cal didn’t
stroll.  He rode his Harley.  And when he wasn’t riding his Harley, he was
strutting around in the echo of its engine rumbles, as though his identity
resided in those engine rumbles.  Cal craved those throaty vibrations like some
people crave cigarettes.  In a particularly philosophical moment he’d once said
to me, “The only time I really feel alive is when I’m vibratin’.”  Deep stuff.

“When
are you expected in Austin?” Nate asked me casually.

“What? 
Oh, I’m not.”

“Not
what?”

“Not
expected.”

“They
don’t know you’re coming?”

“No. 
I … I have a friend there.  From high school.  I didn’t have her number, so I’m
going to try to look her up once I get there.”  God, it all sounded as
desperate as it actually was.

Nate
seemed to find this almost amusingly unbelievable.  “You don’t know where she
lives?”

“She’s
at – well, at least she
was
at – UT.  I’ll start my search there and see
if I can track her down.”

“What
if she isn’t?”

I
had tried not to think about that.  My hasty escape hadn’t given me a lot of
options, but sometimes freedom is more important than options.  “She will be.” 
I almost whispered it when I said, “She has to be.”

Now
that he realized I was serious, Nate’s amusement had been replaced by
curiosity.  And a marked concern, if I was reading him right.  “You don’t know
anybody else in Austin?”

“Everybody
I know lives in Tulsa.”

I
was distracted then by a shiny white stretch limo with tinted windows that
rolled by us slowly.  I felt the tug of Nate’s hand.  He’d stopped.  In front
of a store. 
Valentino
, the sign said.  He was looking at red dress that
was displayed in the window.

“What
do you think?” he said, smiling at me in that cool way he had.

“About
what?”

“That
dress.”

“It’s
nice.”  The dress was unbelievable.  It was a simple wrap dress, cut so well it
made you want to cry.

“Try
it on.”

I
looked up at him, realizing only then how tall he was.  How big.  Of course I
knew all that but it was the first time I’d actually stood next to him like
this.  And he was stunning me again with the sheer volume of those wide
shoulders.  His arms, too, sort of stretching against the short sleeves of his
shirt whenever he moved, really were some kind of work of goddamn art.

He
might have been able to tell I was ogling him idiotically.  He lifted up his
sunglasses as though to get a better look at me, and his eyes were glinting
with humor.  “You’d look good in red.”

What? 
Oh, yeah: the dress.  “I think that dress would cost more than my limited
budget would allow.”

“My
treat.  You’ll need something to wear to dinner tonight.”

“Nate. 
No.  You’re not going to buy me that dress.  You already paid for my hotel room
last night.  Thank you, by the way.”

But
he wasn’t listening to me.  He was pulling me into the shop.

He
wouldn’t take no for an answer.  And I had to admit, the dress was the most
beautiful thing I’d ever worn in my life.  It clung to me like a second skin,
accentuating every curve, softly.  It was low cut but flatteringly so, and hung
to halfway down my thighs, flouncing gently.  Regarding myself in the fitting
room mirror, wrapped in such a masterpiece, for some reason, made me feeling
like crying.  It was too perfect. 
He was too perfect.
  But when the
saleswoman asked me to show them, to show him, Nate was sitting on a leather
chair waiting for me, leafing through a magazine.  And the look on his face
when he saw me was hands down the most enchanting experience I’d could have
dreamt up.  He looked star-struck.  Awed, almost.  His jaw slackened and he
just stared at me.

“I
think he likes it,” the sales lady whispered conspiratorially, smiling.  “It’s
stunning, honey.  Enough to bring a red-blooded Texan to his knees.  Don’t you
dare refuse to let him buy it for you.”  She’d heard our exchanges as we’d
shopped and she’d found my size.  “You’d regret it ‘til your dyin’ day.”

I
thought she might be right about that.

And
so, with the dress neatly wrapped in tissue paper, paid for understatedly with
a swipe of Nate’s credit card, we left the store, bag in hand.