Southbound Surrender (13 page)

“You have no idea how much you just turned me on, Cash Rowland.” Her lips curve up as she narrows her eyes. She runs her tongue between her lips before she breaks out into laughter. “
Game of Thrones
. I’ve been too busy to see what all the fuss is about, even though die-hard Kelly has tried to get me to watch it with him.”

“What’s with this Kelly guy anyway? Should I be worried about him?” I climb to the back, open a cabinet to the fifteen inch screen, and pop in the DVD.

“I don’t play house well with other girls. It probably has something to do with me being an only child and everything. Add an absent father and the hopping of secondary education experiences, which equated to the diagnosis and symptom of ‘new girl,’” she replies. “I met Kelly two years ago after an event downtown in Madison. We hit it off, and he asked me to move in with him two weeks later since he was looking for a roommate and I was looking for a place to live. Made sense, and we’ve been living together ever since.”

“What kind of event?” I sit down on the bed.

“MMA.”

“His event?”

She nods her head, grabs the bottle of wine and climbs back toward me.

“So your roommate’s a cage fighter?”

“Was,” she laughs as she falls down next to me. “But he isn’t exactly what you would expect from an ex-cage fighter.”

“I don’t want to know. Let’s watch the show. Are you into blood, sex, and fight to the death for honor kind of thing?” I wrangle past her to turn off the lights of the cab as the show begins to play.

“Who isn’t?” She jingles a key chain, flips open a small metal corkscrew, and winds it into the bottle. She stops, noticing my awe. “There’s a mini-blade on the other side of this thing. I always carry it wherever I go. It was a gift from my dad on my twenty-first birthday. Pretty great, huh? I told you he wasn’t one hundred percent jerk, just maybe sixty.”

“It’s pretty great. I never want you to stop surprising me.”

“Don’t worry,” she says before she takes a pull from the bottle and hands it to me. “There’s plenty more to come.”

I take a swig, letting the cheap cabernet burn down my throat. As a general rule I hate all wine, but I’d drink just about anything, except my own urine unless for survival purposes, for the girl next to me. I pass the bottle to Piper before I reach behind her for two pillows, smelling her sweet fragrance. I linger for a second, inhaling with a selfishness that knows no bounds, until I relent and prop the pillows against the wall. The bed awaits.

This is where said girl’s stomach fills with butterflies, a warmth stirring deep inside her gut that radiates to her thighs. Her face flushes and her toes curl at the thought of lying next to the handsome man that she can’t possibly imagine keeping her hands off of. All she wants to do is taste him, feel his strong arms wrapped around her body and nuzzle her head into his hard chest.

Except this is Piper Sullivan. She knows how to pop every man’s dream bubble before he can blink his eyes.

“I’ve got to get some air.” Her body suddenly shoots up, and she squeezes between the seats with the sloshing bottle of wine in her hand.

POP.

My balloon is a sad little heap of latex on the ground.

“Piper.” It’s a declarative statement, not a question. I’m not asking her to come back, but I say her name as if it will be enough to bring her back. She doesn’t stop at the pain in my voice.

“I just need a sec,” she says as she reaches for the door. The forgotten winter brushes against my face as the door swings open.

“You’re not going out there alone, I can’t let you –”

BANG.

The cool air stops and the strings and thumping drums of the opening credits of
Game of Thrones
blare behind me. I lurch toward the door and tumble out into the April night.

She’s already half-way down the runway lights of my trailer, her hair bouncing back and forth as her pink shoes paddle against the asphalt.

Piper Sullivan is fodder out here in the diesel jungle.

“Wait,” I yell in panic as I sprint toward her. There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight. She reaches the end of the trailer before I get to her, and I pull her arm harder than I want to. Her body bends back with the force making her stop and turn toward me.

“Cash, just give me a second.” She shoves me in the chest but forgets to take her hands back. Her fingertips are resting on my chest, waiting.

I bring my hands up to hers slowly and clasp them around hers. “I’ll give you all the time you need out here. Minutes, hours, the whole night, but I can’t let you out of my sight. Not here. It’s not safe. You’re one sweet, irresistible taste of candy for these guys. They’ll be swarmed on you like ants before you know it.”

“Weird metaphor,” she breathes. “But I get your point.”

My heart pounds through our hands resting on my chest. I feel the beat pulse through us both. She stares at me through the dim glow of the trailers surrounding us before she pushes up on her tiptoes and lightly grazes her lips against mine. The kiss is a sweet wisp of flavor that’s gone before I know it. She plants her heels on the ground before she turns and pulls my hand with her.

We walk in silence for a few minutes as I try to keep track of how far we’ve gone, but the rows of trailers are blurring with each step. I just feel her hand, light in mine, and the gentle swing of her body. We walk together just like the couples celebrating their sixty-fifth wedding anniversary with their coordinating outfits and three-tiered cake. Just like my grandparents, who never spent a day apart in their marriage or death. Grandpops Harry suffered from a heart attack just hours after Grams passed away in her sleep. Like they say, he died from broken heart.

Piper Sullivan had shattered my heart, ground it into dust, and now was somehow sweeping it back together, slowly and painfully.

A woman’s cry abruptly slices through the sky, stopping us. We’re frozen behind a trailer, both dreading and waiting for another sound.

“LET GO!” The woman’s muffled scream snaps us to the left between two trailers. The scuffling of feet and a struggle echoes, calling us closer.

Piper squeezes my hand and glances up at me with determination I both admire and loathe because I realize quickly how much more courageous she is than me. Don’t get me wrong, we both know what we have to do in this type of situation, but she doesn’t hesitate like the rest of us. We’ll play out the possible dangers of the scenarios. She doesn’t weigh the possibilities or the outcome, not for one second. It’s admirable because her lack of indecision and indifference to danger could mean the world to someone else. I rise to her ridiculous lack of trepidation, and we tiptoe toward the noise.

A man in a cowboy hat has his hands wrapped all over a woman in red-heeled shoes that sparkle like a kaleidoscope in the trailer lights. The spikes of her heels are dragging and clattering against the asphalt like nails on a chalkboard. Then he hits her. Nothing much else registers in my head besides these three things. Cowboy hat. Red shoes. Smack.

“We have to,” Piper whispers.

I listen to her real close. Maybe too close.

Chapter 9

Someone once told me that you become a man when you punch another man in the face. I don’t know who the hell gave me those pearly words of wisdom, but I’m about to heed those words and enter manhood as I know it.

“Hey asshole,” Piper yells as she breaks my grip. I try to hold tighter, but she’s storming toward the couple. The distraction makes the Cowboy hesitate just long enough for the woman to break free from his hands. The red shoes clatter toward us and reach Piper first, who wraps her arms around the woman. I dart past the huddled women and tell them to run.

I clench my fist, but all I can think about is who told me that lousy piece of advice and how bad this is going to hurt. I wind back my arm and know the seconds are closing in before the jerk in front of me connects his fist into my face if I don’t get to him first. I know without a doubt, by the way his body moves and the way the rage flashes in his eyes and the way he hit that woman with the red heels that this Cowboy is already a man. Probably a dozen times over. I wonder what number I would be if I don’t move my hand.

“DUCK!” The woman screams behind me.

But it’s too late. I’m already ducking and missing the Cowboy’s hand by just inches. I pop back up and finally extend my fist to wipe the shock from his face.

And damn, does it hurt. The pain explodes through my knuckles and runs up my arm, but I know I have to hit him again. He’s been around the block, more than once – he’s definitely double my age – with a set of old man muscles I know I can’t compete with. I pull back again to crush his face and probably my pinky finger right along with it, when I see a bright pink shoe kick up in front of me.

Piper.

The shoe connects with the Cowboy’s groin and he doubles over in pain, giving us just a few seconds of lead time.

“GO!” I yell to Piper, but she’s already running down the thin space between the parked semis. The lights alongside the trailers illuminate the path like a marked runway, and I follow her bouncing blonde hair as she grabs the woman in the red heels.

“Come back here, you –” I hear the Cowboy groan as he clutches his groin in agony. His words are slurred, and I don’t catch the end of his threat because I’m already thirty feet ahead and winding around the front of a truck. I follow those streaming locks of yellow like a NASCAR white flag.

“Over here,” Piper yells and points to Cash Money just a few trucks over. Even though I know I should care that I’ve broken a cardinal rule of trucking – never leave your truck
unlocked and idling –
I couldn’t be happier.

By the time I get to the driver’s side door, the woman has already climbed in. She crawls in between the seats and moves to the bed in the back. I swing open the door and meet Piper’s glowing eyes.

God, I love those eyes.

I could stare at those eyes all night, but the Cowboy is coming, and I sure as hell don’t want to know what his fist feels like in my face or even worse. Piper breaks eye contact first as we pop into our seats across from each other. I release the break and hit the gas as the truck slowly responds to my touch. It’s a straight shot out of hell, away from the Cowboy and his fist.

“Come on, baby,” I coax as the engine gives a little and the tires begin to roll. I shift as I hear a bang on the back of the trailer.

“Go,” the woman whispers behind me. I can’t see her, but I can smell her. It’s an intoxicating mixture of brown sugar, vanilla, and something else. I can’t pinpoint the last element although the scent is tickling the tip of my nose. It’s right there.

The thumping soundtrack of
Games of Thrones
is blaring through the cab. Swords are clanking and the drums pound harder and harder, reaching the pinnacle of a fight scene.

The side mirror shows a reflection of the Cowboy staggering beside the truck with a gun in his hand. Blood is spilling down his nose – manhood achieved with whistles and cheers by yours truly – and onto his mouth. Hell, he’s chasing us like I stole a load of gold from him. He’s absolutely crazed and his arms and legs are moving wildly in jerky movements. I cringe just thinking about the bullet holes that he’s going to put into Cash Money. But we both know he can’t knock out enough tires for me to stop. There’s no way in hell I’m stopping now no matter how many tires he blows out.

The popping echoes of the gun disappear under the roar of the engine.

“Is he shooting at us?” Piper screams as she pounds the dash. “GO, GO, GO!”

I hold my breath as the engine revs, and I shift again. I’m waiting for the sound of the first tire to blow out, but it doesn’t come. He’s losing ground now, according to my trusty mirror, and his arms aren’t pumping as fast.

“Give up, Cowboy. Give up,” I mutter.

Another round of popping sounds rings out, but I never hear a ting against the trailer or the blowout of a tire. I’m not sure if it’s a hopeful delusion in the rush of adrenaline, but I hold my breath, grip the wheel, and pray this jerk gives up for the sake of all of us in this cab and for Viv. She would kill me if I brought Cash Money back with bullet holes in him. That would be a first for Viv I didn’t want to achieve.

“COME ON!” The woman yells in my ear.

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING!” I holler back. “COME ON, CASH MONEY!”

The tires start rolling faster and faster, and I think for a second that we might have a chance. I thrust my foot on the pedal, feeling Cash Money respond underneath me.

And finally the man stops about thirty feet behind the trailer and kicks the ground with his boots. I hope they’re real nice, expensive snake leather, and I hope like hell that he’s scuffed them.

Right on cue, the
Game of Thrones
fight scene ends and a crowd erupts in hardy cheers on the TV behind me
.
I can feel Piper smiling before she lets out a huge “WHOOP!” She pounds the dash and erupts in clapping hands.

“YES!” The woman yells behind me and joins Piper in clapping.

“HELL YES!” I yell and hold my hand out. Piper slaps my battered hand and sends a dose of pain shooting up my arm. “OW.” I flinch, but I don’t move it and wait for the woman behind me. She slaps it softer before she starts to clap again.

“Thank you, thank you,” she says softly.

“Cash Rowland, you just became a real man!” Piper yells as she grabs my biceps and shakes it. “My God, I thought my heart was going to explode. That was awesome. Did you see that guy’s face? One, two punch from Cash and Piper.”

“One punch, two kick,” I laugh. “My Badass Badge has officially been achieved. I have to call Hudson. And thanks, by the way, for not listening to me right away. You saved my ass by kicking him in the balls. I knew I brought you along for a reason. I saw that pink shoe fly up and all I could think was, thank God I don’t have to punch this Cowboy again.”

“How bad does it hurt?” Piper asks.

“Not that bad.” I move my eyes back to the open road and rest my swollen hand against the wheel. The only thing that’s taking the edge off the pain is the excitement of impressing Piper. I know it’s all macho and lame and everything, but I can’t help it. I just punched some scumbag and if that doesn’t impress her, I don’t know what will.