FUEL (DirtSlap Series Book 1) (2 page)

“Take a shower. I’ll get you one of my shirts and some coffee. That should help perk you up.” His voice was hoarse. The memories of everything he had left rushed back in force.

“My shirt is fine. Thanks.”

“Darlin’, I believe it fared worse than my boots.”

She looked down. “Ewww…yeah, okay. At least I know what that smell is now. Yes, shower. Clean shirt.”

He grabbed her hand and helped her up, putting his other hand on her waist when she swayed into him.

“I’ll never drink that much again.” She gripped his arm and peered at him.

Her gaze struck him hard. Innocence clung to her face even with a hangover. How had she held onto that when he knew what, or more to the point, who she’d lived with? And he’d left her there to deal with it on her own. Had she gotten the help he’d tried to get for her?

She continued to stare, and he tried to read her thoughts. He knew last night she was ready to hit him. Did she still feel that way? And the biggest question of all, how the hell had she found him?

He stepped back. “I’ll get that shirt.”

He took the stairs two at a time, headed to his bedroom, pulled the first shirt he found out of his closet, then rushed back down. He dropped the garment on the sink in the bathroom. Cas was already in the shower, her clothes piled on the floor.

Yeah, he was
not
going to think of her naked in his shower because right now, she was anything
but
a buzzkill.

He was making coffee when he heard the barstool slide. He turned and almost dropped his cup. Her hair hung in long, wet strands and she’d tucked his loose shirt into the front into her frayed denim shorts. It brought attention to those mile-long legs and bare feet.

She’d certainly grown up. No longer the lanky, shy girl he’d left, she was a woman who looked him right in the eye. They’d been close back then and seeing her like this blindsided him.

Hot didn’t even begin to describe what she was doing to his blood. His friends would call her a long, tall cool one. But she was more like a strong shot of whiskey leaving that same sort of burn.

He placed the cup in front of her as she slid onto the stool.

“Better?” he asked and forced himself to focus on who she was—a girl who had once been a lot like a sister to him.

“Much. Thanks.” She took a sip. “Caffeine, the cure for anything.”

Her lips curled up slightly and he leaned against the counter.

“So how did you find me?” He’d told no one where he was going when he left Oklahoma and he hadn’t talked to any of them since.

“Really? You think I came here looking for you?” She took another drink then straightened her spine, her eyes chips of green ice. “You left. Without a word. Why the hell would I come looking for you?”

“I think it’s a little coincidental that you ended up here.”

She shoved at her wet hair and choked on a sarcastic laugh. “You’re telling me. Trust me, I had no idea you were here. I’m on my way to New York. Transfer bus is supposed to be here at two.”

“You’re headed to New York? Why?” He had been to New York and no matter how different or tough she seemed, that place would eat her up and spit her out.

“Yeah. No worries. I’ll be on a bus headed that way in a few hours. And why not? Anywhere is better than where I was. You should know that. You took off as soon as you could.” Venom laced her voice and matched the fire in her eyes.

Oh yeah, she still wanted to punch him.

“Cas, that’s no place for you and,” he scrubbed his face and sighed. “I tried—”

She held up her hand. “Save it. I really don’t care. Just take me to my motel and I won’t be a problem for you anymore.”

*

Cassie didn’t say
much as they got in his truck and headed to her motel. The fourteen-year-old girl she used to be was thrilled beyond belief to see him. The woman she’d become was ticked off.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her from stealing glances at him. At his house, he’d been wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans and she wasn’t immune. He’d filled out quite nicely. She’d thought he was cute before…but now? He was what women posted as wallpaper on their desktops so they could drool on a regular basis.

He’d really thought she was looking for him? How dare he?

He’d left her there to deal with her drunk father. Alone. The last person she ever thought to see again was Thrand Medlam. No way in hell was she about to admit that her first instinct was to hug him and not let him go.

“What do you do here?” She had to say something so she wouldn’t fixate on the tattoos that emphasized his arm and made him sexier than he was already.

“Drums. I play in studios and fill in for bands around town now and then.”

“You don’t have your own band?”

“No. I like what I’m doing. I also write songs. Bartend when it’s slow.”

He wore a black cap on backwards and dark sunglasses, so she couldn’t read his eyes, but his lips twitched. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile or frown. He also sported a beard clipped close to his face. So short it was just scruff. Her hand itched to test the feel.

She nervously twisted her hair and looked out the window as she pointed to her motel. “Room 54.”

“This is where you’re staying?” He didn’t bother hiding the disdain in his voice and it pissed her off.

She glared at him. “You have a problem with it?”

“Hell yeah, I have a problem.” He shoved up his glasses and glared back. “Could you have picked a more unsafe place?”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “It was the best I could do.”

She got out and slammed the truck door. She damn sure couldn’t wait to be on that bus to New York, because she didn’t get out of that hell-hole just to have someone tell her she was doing everything wrong.

She searched through her purse for the key.

“Don’t think you need the key.” He stepped up and pushed at the door that was already slightly ajar.

The breath left her body as she rushed into her trashed room. Her clothes were strewn all over the place. “No…”

She shoved past Thrand and lifted the mattress where she had hidden her money. Gone. All two thousand she had scraped and saved to get out of Oklahoma was gone.

“No. No. This
cannot
be happening.” Her heart thundered in her chest. What the hell would she do now?

“Don’t tell me you hid your money between the mattresses? That’s the first place they look.”

She grit her teeth, willing herself not to cry.

“That was the only place my father wouldn’t find my money.”

“Ah hell, Cas.” Before she could stop him, he’d pulled her up against him in a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around her, his chin resting on her head.

She gave herself a moment to relish it. To let someone else carry her burden. She inhaled his familiar masculine scent. It would be so easy to cling to him. To let him be her rock again. She wiped at a stray tear before she pushed away from him.

“I got some money in my purse. They didn’t get it all.” Sure, a hundred and fifty bucks. That wouldn’t get her very far.

He cocked a brow. “This area’s no good. You can stay at my place until you’re on your feet. But you’re not going to New York.”

She clenched her fist, seething at the thought of him ordering her around like she was fourteen again. What she really wanted to do was tell him where he could shove that offer, but she didn’t have much choice. She would have to accept help. Just when she thought she could breathe again, she was stuck. With him of all people.

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But I won’t hang around long. I’ll go when and where I want.”

He frowned. “Take as long as you need. I have an extra bedroom.”

She didn’t say anything else but tossed clothes into her bags. She picked up a picture of her brother, Cameron, and Thrand when they were younger and noticed the small frame was broken. She clenched her teeth. Dammit. She would not cry.

Thrand took it from her, shook off the broken glass, and touched Cam’s face. Then, without a word, handed it back to her without meeting her gaze.

Getting all her stuff back in her bags didn’t take long, but one important thing was missing. She held back the scream that had been slowly building and searched through the tiny room again.

“What else is missing?” His brows furrowed.

She fisted a hand in her hair. “My camera. Looks like they took it, too.”

Unable to spend one more minute in the place, she gathered up her meager belongings. She and Thrand got in his truck and were headed to his place before he spoke.

“I know a lot of people here. I can help you get a job.”

The windows were down and the warm air whipped her hair wildly around them. She grabbed at the strands and used a ponytail holder to pull it into a messy bun. “I worked at the diner back home for five years.”

That earned her a grin that reminded her of the old Thrand. “Ruth & Pops? I loved that place. I still think they had the best root beer floats ever made.”

“I remember you and Cam getting run out of there more than once for being too rowdy.”

“But they always let us come back. Pops told Ruth we were just being boys.”

“Ruth said she let you return because I was always with you guys.” She was pretty sure their eyes met, but once again, he had his dark glasses on. She rubbed the leather cuff she wore on her left wrist.

Silence hung heavy between them.

Was he ever going to say anything about Cam’s death?

T
hey had just
gotten into his house when the doorbell rang. Thrand opened it and, before he could do anything, Trina threw herself at him and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Where have you been? I wanted to surprise you this morning, but you were already gone.”

He forced her back.

Buzzkill cleared her throat. “Hey, I’m Cassie.”

“This is Trina,” Thrand said and ignored Cassie’s accusatory look.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Trina asked, hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted Cassie’s bags on the couch, then widened when she saw his shirt on Cas. She whipped around to face him and her red face said it all. “This is the final straw, Thrand.”

“Final straw? Trina, we were never a couple. You know that.” She had to be one of the worse one-night-stand decisions he’d ever made. The only thing she had going for her was big tits.

If it was possible, her face got even redder. “Really? Is that how you see it?”

“Yeah…Maybe you should leave now.” With a little smile, Cassie slid up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Thrand was speechless. All he could concentrate on was the press of Cassie’s body against his. Trina cussed him, stomped off and slammed the door. But he was more interested in the girl behind him playing her charade. She looked up at him, her eyes dancing with laughter, her lips curled up just slightly.

“Maybe you should pick your girlfriends better.”

He had the urge to taste those lips so close to his and it stunned him. This was Cassie, his best friend’s baby sister. The one he’d sworn to protect but had left to fend for herself after Cam had died. There was no way in hell Thrand would go there. Somehow, that didn’t stop him from imagining those soft lips on his.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend,” he said.

“Good,” then she kissed his arm, patted his ass, and grabbed her bags. “Which way is my room?”

He pointed to the open door to the left of the living room. He realized, as she walked away with hips swaying, he was in big trouble.

He pulled off his hat, rubbed his head and the scruff on his face. So far, Cassie landing in his new hometown had been about as calm as a tornado touchdown. She was a nothing like the fourteen-year-old girl he had left behind. She had always been stubborn but never so straightforward and fearless. Nor had she been rockin’ curves like that.

Her head poked around the corner of the door. “Bedlam, I’m hungry now.”

He grinned at the nickname he hadn’t heard in forever. “You got it, Buzzkill. You ready for the best BBQ this town has to offer?”

“Hell, yeah.” Her playful innocent smile about did him in.