“You’re a long way from home,” I observed, wishing the brunette would pipe up.
“Connecticut isn’t really home,” the blonde continued. “I’m from San Diego and Phoebe’s from New Jersey.”
So the brunette’s Phoebe. I turned the syllables over on my tongue as though they were sacred text.
“Then what are ya’ll doing in Connecticut, if you ain’t from there?” Hardly my business to ask, given my living situation, but I would do anything to draw Phoebe out.
“We go to Bridgeport University,” the blonde explained.
Shit. I mentally kicked myself. So that was what I got for letting my mind wander to a woman for even a moment. Of course, given my luck, she turned out to be young, just a college student. Why do I always let myself hope? God, you really think I would’ve learned better at this point. I was twenty-seven, a grown man with a young son. What the hell was I doing looking at a beautiful thing like Phoebe? You’re a fool, I snarled at myself.
Unaware of my internal monologue of self-hatred, the blonde went on. “We thought it’d be funny to go on this road trip where we stopped in towns that—”
“Jo-Beth,” Phoebe said, cutting off her friend. I raised an eyebrow, curious as to what the blonde — or rather, Jo-Beth — had been about to say that I wasn’t meant to hear.
Phoebe, all business, asked, “So what’s the damage on the car?”
I glanced over the engine once more, then tilted my hat back down and stood up.
“Well, ma’am,” I replied, “several of your spark plugs are shot. Gonna need to replace those. Plus there is an oil leak and your rad hose needs to be replaced.”
Phoebe’s face fell, and I wanted to race over and hug her, hold her close, tell her it’d all be okay. Then I remembered she was too young, and that she was a woman, period, and I held my ground.
“How long is that gonna take?”
I sighed. “Unfortunately, we are fresh out of spark plugs and we don’t have much connection to the outside world. Takes a long while for things to get here. I’d guess… probably three or four days.”
She paled, blood draining from her already pearlescent skin, leaving her with the look of a particularly youthful specter, one who sucks the souls from the bodies of men. The kind of girl who stalks your days and haunts your dreams. Inescapable.
“So then,” she said quietly, “we’re screwed.”
At that, an idea crossed my mind.
CHAPTER 5
Phoebe
FOUR DAYS. Of course. Why would anything just be easy and simple? Four fucking days in Rough and Ready. The gag of going to sexually named towns meant that it was fun to stay there for a night, if possible, maybe two. But four? That was way past the threshold. They say comedy is tragedy plus time, but this was far too much time for my liking.
Jo-Beth and I were all alone, in the middle of a backwoods town. Sorry, not even middle. On the outskirts of a backwoods town. This was definitely, without a doubt, how we got murdered.
Or, I guess we weren’t all alone. Because this hunky cowboy with a slick red truck and a thick accent that didn’t belong to California was facing me, standing tall, hands clasped politely in front of him. He had manners, that much was obvious, but beneath the years of good breeding, I could see a glint of wickedness in his eye. And, despite everything I’d ever learned in my studies — or just from being a woman alive and kicking in this day and age — my heart was drawn to that glint.
Fear and lust were growing in equal parts inside my body, two conflicting hormones firing on all cylinders. Hormones can’t fire on cylinders, but I guess our situation had begun to infect my metaphors. Besides, I was driven to distraction by the tree-trunk nature of his thighs.
In the background, I could hear Jo-Beth groaning and kicking up dust. She was, unfortunately, prone to throwing fits when things didn’t go her way. If pressed, I’d chalk it up to only child syndrome. It was up to me to take the lead on this.
“And where,” I began, leveling my gaze with his, even though I found it hard to meet his simmering eyes, “are we supposed to stay for three or four days?”
“Frankly, we don’t have so much as a motel in Rough and Ready,” he admitted, his voice filled with gravel. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This is just a place that people pass through, not much of a destination.”
He hung his head, averting his gaze from mine, clearly a little ashamed that he couldn’t offer us a better answer. I was glad for the momentary break. I couldn’t look into his eyes for too long without feeling a decided moistening in my panties.