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Gunner tried to stop, but as always, it was no use. He wasn’t in control on a good day, and as usual, this wasn’t a good day.
Resigned to his fate, or perhaps defeated, he hoped she would make it to her car before he could reach her. She was at the door already, her back to the glass there, head turned as she said something to the cashier. No luck on her getting out of his way, she turned just as he reached for the handle.
Gunner startled to a stop and froze.
The woman was in her early thirties, perhaps. Her eyebrows were dark like her hair, and delicately arched in surprise as she laid those pretty hazel eyes on him. She had full lips and a nose that was cute enough, but looked as if it had been broken and healed rough. It did nothing to take away from her pretty eyes or her striking bone structure.
“Let me,” she said, pushing the door open for him. She held it and waited for him to pass.
Slowly, he walked through the open doorway and looked down at her. She was perhaps five-foot-five—a full foot shorter than him.
She glanced out at the gas pumps, then back to him. He’d just frozen inside the gas station like a dumbass.
“I like your bike,” she said softly.
“You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” he growled.
Her eyes went wide at the sound of his voice. She shrank back and dropped her gaze. Mmm. Submissive.
“H-have a good night,” she uttered.
“See you later, Hallie,” the cashier called.
Hallie lifted her hand in a two-fingered wave.
This was the part where Gunner should let her go, let her live her life and figure her shit out.
But the black truck caught his attention. It pulled forward and parked next to the silver Civic, and if Gunner had to guess, he would say that was her car.
“Do you know that truck?” he asked just before the door swung closed.
She lurched for the handle, missed, and apologized. To the door? He didn’t understand submissives. Their personalities were pitiful to him.
She opened the door again, and asked, “Did you say something?”
Gunner placed his hands in front of himself and lifted his chin higher into the air. “Do you know that truck?” he repeated.
She looked out the window at the black pickup. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Gunner angled his head and cracked his neck. What was he doing here? He should be on the open road trying to figure out what he would do next. “You should wait for him to leave before you get into your car.”
“Okay. Okay, you’re scaring me,” she admitted softly, and he could tell from the tone of her voice she was telling the truth.
He stifled an eye roll. “Where are you going after this?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I literally don’t care about anything. I don’t even know why I’m standing here having this conversation right now.”
She frowned and glanced back at the black truck. “Did he get gas?” she asked the cashier.
“Nope. He’s just been sitting there,” the cashier said. “I’m watching him on the video monitor. He has his window open, but all I can see is his elbow. He looks like he has a phone up to his ear.”
“Can you turn the video off for a few minutes?” Gunner asked.
The cashier just stared at him for a few seconds. “Why?”
Gunner checked the cameras inside. “So I can clear the lot so the lady can leave.”
