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“You’re imagining things. No one is checking me out.” With his hand on my lower back, he guides me past the guys. “See you assholes later,” he laughs, holding the front door open.
I avoid all eye contact with Gentry and step past Carson into the brisk fall air, dragging in a scent of pine and cinnamon. The bakery is just a few doors down and they have a never-ending supply of apple cider donuts lately. They’re nearly as perfect as Carson. The outside crust is crunchy while the inside is soft and fluffy, and they’re always served warm.
“You okay, bug? You need anything else?”
“Yeah, just thinking about those donuts. I think the baby might need some.”
He opens the truck door and nods toward the center console where a little pink box sits and the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafts toward me. He bought me the donuts. “Figured you’d want some. They’re your favorite this time of year. Grabbed you some cider, too. It’s the hot variety. Hope that’s okay.”
This is the part where our relationship is confusing to me. For the longest time, we were so close. Then all of the sudden, we weren’t. He started to avoid me, and only in the quietest of moments when the two of us were alone would he treat me like this.
His hand on my back, his gaze fixed on mine with an attentiveness he doesn’t show others, little gifts all day like he wants me to know he cares…what do I do with all this? Do I give him my thanks, or do I reciprocate the gestures? Do I pretend like it’s normal? Is it normal?
When I’m all tucked into my spot, he rounds to the opposite side of the truck, and climbs up into the cab, startingup the engine. “You ready?” His tone is deep and raspy, sending a ripple effect down my spine and straight between my thighs. Before I was sitting here, I thought I could handle a long ride with Carson. Now, I’m one hundred and fifty thousand percent sure that’s not the case. We’re not even thirty seconds in and my clit is already begging me to strip off his jeans and make an even bigger mess of my life. Trouble is… the rest of me vehemently agrees.
Chapter Two
Carson
I stand against the breezeway of the rest stop and wait for Sky to finish in the bathroom. It’s a cool breezy day, but the drive is gorgeous. Mountains roll in the distance with colorful leaves that fall and drop in the wind, and there’s a crisp pine smell in the air that’s refreshing. I’m all for the summer months up here, but there’s nothing like a fall drive, and doing it with Sky makes everything more fun.
I’d gather to say she’s the only grown woman I know that squeals when she sees baby deer on the side of the road or jumps with excitement when we come across a few colorful maple trees in a row. She went on about the way the leaves danced for at least ten minutes. I love that about her, how simple things make her so damn happy, which is why I’m staring at the vending machine right now.
Her basket is still filled with snacks and there are still plenty of donuts in the box, but I like her to have surprises. There’re candy bars, but she’s already got a few of those. Chips, but she’s got those too. When I see the Pop-Tart, I know that’s the gold I’m looking for. I dig change from my pocket and slide quarters into the machine one by one before I press F7 and wait as the pastry drops into the bottom rack.
Feeling like a king, I turn around, holding the strawberry pastry proudly in my hand. I live for her excitement, for the wayshe lights up, for the way she smiles and tips up onto her toes. No one else reacts like she does. No one else would get excited about something as simple as a baby deer or a strawberry Pop-Tart. No one else is as perfect as my little bug.
My little bug. I need to stop doing that. She’s not mine. She hasn’t been. She never will be. I need to get it out of my head. Trouble is, I’ve always felt like she was mine. When we met, she was a seventeen-year-old who’d just lost her parents, and I was a close family friend who knew what that was like. We found solace in each other.
It was nothing weird. I’d take her out, listen to her talk, remind her that life gets better, and then I’d take her home. When I deployed, she was the one person I didn’t want to leave. I felt responsible for her and her happiness. We kept in touch via email and phone calls, and when I came home, I made her a priority because I missed her. I felt responsible for her because I loved her… because she was mine.
I turn around with the Pop-Tart, noticing she’s standing outside the bathroom talking to some creep. He’s a lanky guy sporting a trucker cap and overalls, and clearly, he wants to get his ass beat. His filthy hand is on her stomach.
I already hate that there’s another man’s baby inside of her, so watching some asshole rub her down isn’t going to fly.
“Hey,” I bark, stalking toward the man.
He pulls back his hand and stares at me. “She said the baby was kicking.”
“Did she ask you to fucking touch her?” I glance toward Sky. “Did you give him permission to touch you?”
She shakes her head, and I drive my fist into the man’s jaw.
He falls backward onto the ground and wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand. I’m sure a camera somewhere caught this, but there are no immediate bystandersto get their panties in a bunch, and if there were, I’d put them on the ground too.
“Don’t touch women without permission.” I spit on the ground next to the man and sink my hand into Sky’s, guiding her down the ramp toward the truck. “If someone touches you like that again, kick them in the balls or holler for me.”
“Yeah, my legs don’t work like that right now, Carson. I feel like I’m carrying a 900-pound beach ball around.”
“So then scream for help, bug. I don’t want random men touching you. Jesus.” I help her up into the truck as I try to calm my blood from boiling over. I’m not sure I’ve been this angry in ages.
“What do you care?” she huffs, buckling her seatbelt.
The wealth of emotion I have for her spins around, threatening to evacuate, but I bite it back in favor of reason. “You hired me to keep you safe, so I’m doing my job.”
“Right.Your job,” she huffs, staring out the side window as I roll out of the parking lot.
I pull the Pop-Tart from my pocket and hand it toward her. “I found this in the vending machine. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Despite the drama, my heart still anticipates her excitement.
