Wrecked (6 page)

Sad he knew the bulls and their names better than he knew some of the riders.

Of course, he tended to like animals better than people most times.

Sighing, Wade shoved a fresh pinch of chew between his cheek and gum. He’d just settled in for a long wait to get out of the lot when he spotted a long black car parked along the curb.

And lo and behold, who was heading toward it but CeCe Cole herself.

Of course she’d have a limo. Why not? She had the bucks. He really shouldn’t be surprised. And as luck would have it, he was inching past the car just as she reached the curb and the driver holding the door open for her.

Wade rolled down his window. “Hey! Nice ride.”

She raised her gaze to meet his. “Thank you. Nice, uh, truck.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah, it is. Top of the line. King cab. Leather seats. The works. Why don’t you hop on in and I’ll take you for a ride.”

Oh, yeah. He’d like to take her for a nice long ride, all right.

She lifted one reddish brow. “Um, thanks but I’m good in the limo.”

He’d bet she’d be good in the limo. Hell, she’d be good anywhere. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be just down the road at the bar next to the Homeside Inn.”

While sending him a look that said pretty clearly he should keep dreaming, CeCe did him the favor of saying, “Have a good night.”

She disappeared into the limo, probably never to be seen again—at least by his eyes.

Oh, well. At least that had been a diversion while he waited.

As the light to exit the arena lot turned green, a space opened up between him and the car ahead. Feeling generous, Wade waited and let the limo pull in front of him before he made his slow and steady way to the exit.

Wade noticed CeCe’s limo turned left, while he turned right toward the hotel and bar.

His brief brush with auto parts royalty was over. It had been fun while it lasted.

He hit the accelerator and sped up to highway speed. A cold beer and warm whisky were waiting on him.

CHAPTER 6

CeCe watched the scenery from behind the tinted windows of the limousine. With every mile that passed her restlessness grew until she was ready to jump out of the car even as they sped down the California highway.

By the time the driver pulled through the soaring metal gates of the home she used to share with her husband she was itching to get out.

The house and property were for sale and if it ever sold in this market the proceeds would be split between her and John. She could have chosen to keep it and pay him for his half, but giving that man anything after he’d cheated on her ate at her gut.

Besides, it was better she make a fresh start in a place of her own. Maybe a nice secluded beach house where the waves could lull her to sleep. Or a penthouse in some city where she would always be surrounded by people and excitement and never have to feel alone.

Alone. That’s what she was in this mausoleum of a house, since the house and grounds staff only came for a few hours a day on weekdays.

The driver parked and, leaving the engine idling, came to open her door.

She stepped out onto the cobblestone circular drive. “Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his head and then got back into the car.

As the red taillights glowed in the evening light while he pulled out of the driveway, CeCe turned back to the house.
 

As grand as it was, it was far from being a home—and she realized she didn’t want to be there.

Rather than go inside, not even to change, she turned toward the carriage house-turned-garage. She punched in the key code to unlock the door. Inside she reached into the cabinet and grabbed the keys to her convertible from one of the hooks inside.

She hadn’t driven it all summer. It had been too damn hot so she’d chosen the sedan and air conditioning.

Today, she wanted that feeling of the wind in her hair. The feeling of freedom that came with the sports car.

On the highway, she punched the accelerator and pushed the car well past the speed limit. For the first time that day, she felt like she could really breathe freely.

She realized her craving for an idle drive had her heading back the way she’d come.

Not long after that, she passed the arena.

Passing the entrance she remembered Wade’s invitation to the bar next to his hotel.

Where had it said it was? Just a mile or so away?

She saw a hotel and next to it a building sporting the telltale neon that indicated a bar was within.

What the hell she thought she was doing she didn’t know, but she slowed the car as she neared. Then she swung off the road and into the parking lot, creeping between the rows of parked vehicles.

The lot was packed, but one truck stuck out amid the rest. She recognized that truck. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was Wade’s and he was inside.

He was probably dancing with some young thing wearing a tank top and cut-off shorts with cowboy boots right now.

And if he was? What did she care? She didn’t. She was simply restless and looking for a distraction.

The music pumping loud enough inside that she could feel the bass all the way outside in the car should provide just that—a distraction from her lonely life.

Hell, maybe she’d even order a beer. Or maybe a bourbon. Or both. Isn’t that the kind of things people drank at honky-tonks?

CeCe didn’t really know. By the time she’d turned legal to drink in most states in the United States she was already earning in the high six figures annually and modeling internationally.

Needless to say, she didn’t hang out at these kinds of places then. Her pre-marriage years were spent flying between Manhattan, Milan and Paris. No cowboy joints there.

Then, after marrying John, she went where he took her. The Ritz. The Carlyle. The Beverly Hilton. The same places he took his mistresses, which is how it was so easy to catch him.

Creature of habit, that man.

The point was, John Cole might like to pretend he was a good ol’ boy at times, going to car races and sponsoring bull riding events, but he also had massive amounts of money and he spent it accordingly. No falling down buildings housing a local watering hole for him, which is what made this place pretty perfect for her night of escape.

No memories of the past.

Resolved, she pulled into an open spot that seemed big enough the car wasn’t in danger of being smashed into by any drunks getting into one of these huge trucks.

After running a hand through her windblown hair, and deciding by her reflection in the rearview mirror that she looked pretty good, she got out.

She should drive the car more often. It gave her color in her cheeks and her hair a kind of tousled, sexy look. She’d probably fit right in here. She could only imagine there were plenty of women inside looking rumpled from all the physical attention they were getting from cowboys such as Wade.

There were a few people standing around outside the exit smoking since that wasn’t allowed inside. The two men followed CeCe’s path with their eyes while the one woman sent her an interested glance.

Perhaps she was overdressed for the venue, but she never had been one to tone things down.

As she pushed through the door into the dimly lit space, she looked around.
 

Wade hadn’t been among the people outside smoking. Not a surprise since she’d seen for herself he chewed tobacco.

Nope, Wade was inside and she saw him now. He stood at the bar and the expression on his face when he saw her enter was priceless.

The bottle in his hand poised halfway to his mouth, he lifted his brows before smiling.

He took a sip and then pushed away from the bar, sauntering across the floor as casually as if he had all the time in the world to reach his destination—her.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Miss Cole Shock Absorbers, herself.”

“Actually, the only official title I held was Miss South Carolina but that was many, many years ago.”

“You? South Carolina?” He shook his head. “You don’t sound like it.”

“Thank you.” She appreciated the compliment more than he could know. She’d worked long and hard to rid herself of any regional accent whatsoever.

“So, what made you change your mind about joining me? My charm?”

“No. Definitely not.” She smiled sweetly and it wasn’t even fake.

The banter between them was the most entertaining conversation she’d had with a man—hell, with anyone—in ages.

Employees pandered to her. The lawyers talked down to her. Those in a service position, from masseuses to maids, barely talked to her at all. But this, with Wade, was actually fun.

“Ah, so then you decided to go slumming for the night. And this is the perfect place for it, I can tell you that.” He glanced around them. “Let me help you get the full experience. There’s an empty booth over there. Come sit down with me and have a drink.”

“Me? Sit with you? That’s presumptuous of you, no?”

“Not at all. I just figured until you’ve sat in a sticky booth in a dark corner and enjoyed the atmospheric fragrance of beer and vomit, you haven’t gotten your money’s worth.”

“I haven’t spent any money yet.”

“That’s easily remedied. Jolie!” he shouted in the direction of the bar.

A waitress carrying a tray and baring a good amount of cleavage turned at the summons. “What ya need, darlin’?”

“Two beers and two shots. We’ll be in the booth.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the empty table before he turned his attention back to CeCe. “There you go. All taken care of. You can have the pleasure of buying me a drink.”

“Do women usually buy your drinks? I thought it would be the other way around. You buying women drinks to get them drunk so they’ll go home with you.” She allowed him to lead her to the table.

She slid into the booth first taking note he was correct about the atmosphere. It was both dark and fragrant and not in a good way.

He sat next to her and shook his head. “Nope. Now see, you’re wrong there.”

“Am I?” She added a good bit of doubt in her tone.

“Yup. I don’t usually take them home with me. Too hard to get them out again afterward.” He grinned and she couldn’t help but smile at his crude joke, in spite of herself.

Jolie planting a glass on the table startled CeCe. She didn’t get service this fast at some of the best restaurants.

One look at the smile Jolie sent Wade, as well as how she bent over extra low to deliver his drinks, told CeCe why they were getting such star treatment.

“Wait. Let me get out my wallet.” CeCe reached for her purse on the table.

Wade frowned at her. “I was only kidding about that. Jolie, put it on my tab.”

“You got it, darlin’.” The woman, who was a good ten years older than CeCe had first assumed now that she’d seen her close up, winked at Wade before she turned away.

“She a friend of yours?”

“Friend? No. But it was a three day event and this place is right next to my hotel so I guess I’ve spent about as much time with her here as I have spent lately with some I do call friends.” He raised the shot glass in one hand. “To Cole Shock Absorbers.”

Surprised at his proposed toast, CeCe raised her own shot glass in the air and then pressed it to her lips. The amber liquid burned a path down her throat, making her choke. She reached for the beer and chugged a big swallow. “What was that?”

“Jamieson’s.” He looked at her strangely. “You struck me as the type to be able to handle her whisky.”

“I can.”

“A’ight. If you say so.” He hid his grin behind his beer.

She drew her brows down at the insult. “I can hold my liquor. I’m just not in the habit of doing shots of whisky.”

“Ah, yes. More the martini type, are you?” he asked.

“Actually, yes. Dirty Martinis to be precise.”

“Dirty, huh? I like the sound of that. I’ll have to try me one of those one day.”

“You should. They’re excellent.”

“That may be, but it’s not gonna be tonight. I think it’s safest to stick to beer and shots at this place.”