Scenic Route Page 8

  Little John spun me around and I couldn’t see them any longer.

  We danced another fast song and then a slow song started, and I heard, “Cuttin’ in.” and I was suddenly in Spencer Valentine’s arms.

  Tennessee Whiskey, a country song, was starting. I didn’t like country music much, but I liked the Chris Stapleton version of this song.

  I didn’t like that I was in a dance without having agreed to it first.

  “You’re smooth,” I told him with disapproval. He pulled me closer.

  “I know.” he winked and pulled me closer still.

  And then my heart was sprinting to whereabouts unknown.

  “What’d you do to Jojo?”

  He made eye contact and smirked mischievously. “Just bein’ a typical protective big brother. I’m bettin’ you know the type.”

  “Hm. I do have some idea,” I muttered disapprovingly.

  And I could smell cinnamon, leather, and something else. Something I couldn’t name. Something that scared me. Fear gripped me, too, because I fit in his arms in a way that, if I was in another place in my life, I’d have liked it.

  A lot.

  He was taller than anyone I’d ever dated. His arms were big. His chest was muscled. He smelled good. And the way he held onto me was not at all platonic. And yet there wasn’t a single thing awkward about it. He held me like he’d held me a million times and knew just how to do it to make me feel safe. I wasn’t ready for this. Not at all. I especially wasn’t ready for how right it felt. If it felt wrong, or creepy, or didn’t feel like anything significant, I wouldn’t be so affected.

  “I stopped some guy from askin’ for her number. She wasn’t happy.”

  “He was bothering her?”

  “Dunno.

  “Did it look like he was bothering her?”

  He looked at me like he didn’t understand the question.

  “She’s not allowed to date?” I queried.

  “She’s my baby sister,” he said, like I was being ridiculous.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And you’re still angry with me,” he observed.

  I sighed. “It’s not that I’m angry with you, really,” I said. The music was loud, but we were so close that it wasn’t hard to hear. “I’m just fed up with stuff.”

  “Stuff?” he prodded.

  “Everyone’s being weird with me. My family. My friends. People who know. And even you.”

  “How am I bein’ weird?”

  “You know,” I insisted.

  He gave a slow shake of his head and looked at me innocently. “Naw, I don’t think I do.”

  “You’re acting strange with me. Like you’re… you’re gonna…”

  He smiled a big Cheshire cat smile. I shook my head.

  It should be illegal to look that good when smiling.

  “You know what I’m gonna say,” I accused, feeling my face go red.

  “I don’t. Why don’t you fill in the blanks?”

  I slapped his shoulder.

  He pulled me closer again and spoke right into my ear. Close. So close that I got shivers.

  “Tell me,” he spoke right against the ridge of my ear, his lips touching it. “How am I bein’ weird?”

  I blew out a breath. His hand slid down, flat against my skin, but went lower on my waist, resting on the top of my ass. I lifted his hand back up a few inches. It went slightly under my blouse, to touch the bare skin of my back.

  “Like that. Like you’re waiting for an opening to make a move.”

  “A move?” he asked, moving his hand back down to my ass again.

  “A move,” I confirmed, lifting it up again and holding onto his wrist to keep it in a safe zone.

  “Would that be such a bad idea?” His mouth was again directly against my ear and then he sang the lyrics about being sweet as strawberry wine directly into my ear.

  “A t-terrible idea.” I had goosebumps all over. His deep voice was smooth and velvety. Wow. Spencer Valentine could sing.

  “Why?” He leaned back to look at my face. And his face was serious. Too serious.

  “I need my drink.” I let his wrist go. He did not let me go.

  “Let’s finish the song, Sunshine, and tell me why it’s such a ta-terrible idea.” He pulled me tighter to his body.

  “Don’t tease me. I stutter when I’m freaked, got teased terrible for it as a kid.”

  “Sorry, baby.” He squeezed me tighter.

  Why did I just tell him that? I didn’t tell people that.

  “I’m not ready to date. And if you’re just looking to get laid, I’m not interested in that, either.”

  “Why?”

  “Why don’t I wanna get laid or why don’t I wanna date?”

  “You not ready to date period or just not interested in dating me?” he asked.

  And I was a little, no… a lot shocked.

  My arms were up over his shoulders, wrists resting on them, and just the contact of my wrists on his shoulders felt like too much. Even more so, the contact of both his arms around me was enough to generate sexual energy. My boobs pressed into his hard upper abs, his pelvis against my belly? Way too much.

  I looked at him and my tongue was frozen or something because I couldn’t find a single word to respond with.

  He was gazing at me with more seriousness on his face than I could even grasp in my alcohol-addled and over-emotional state.

  This wasn’t just him trying to get laid. Nope. That much was crystal clear. He got closer. His lips parted like he was about to move in for a kiss.

  “This can’t happen,” I said, breaking eye contact and looking down at his chest. I broke away from him. He reached for my hand and I slapped his hand away, twirled, heading back to the table.

  He was hot on my heels. I downed the remaining half a drink, which was being guarded by Jenna and Andie… Jenna and Andie who were watching me with wide eyes. They’d seen all that, evidently. Andie’s mouth was open, too.

  Spencer was behind me as I drank. I went to sit and then he went to sit down, too.

  “Don’t,” I ordered, blocking the chair with outstretched arms. “We’re not having this conversation.”

  “I just wanna sit, baby.”

  There was only a nuance of difference linguistically between babe and baby. The bikers that I knew all called women babe. It was part of the lingo, it seemed, like calling your friend bro, brother, or buddy. But, there was more than a little bit of a nuance of difference between babe and baby in terms of meaning to a biker --- at least the bikers I’d been acquainted with. Spencer didn’t throw baby around from what I’d seen and that told me that this nuance was significant for him, too.

  Rider called me babe more than once, as did Deacon, Scott, and Bronto. None of them had called me baby. Deacon and Rider called Ella and Jenna baby. Scooter called Deanna baby.

  I signaled our tall and beautiful waitress, Leanne. She was a biker bunny, for sure. She had on a Harley tee and tight denim mini skirt. “Could I get a rum and Coke, Lee? Thanks. Anyone else? My round,” I said, reaching for my bag.

  “I got it,” Spencer said. “Tab, Leanne.”

  “No, I got it,” I insisted.

  “Told ya, I got it, baby. Put your wallet away,” he said, then repeated. “Tab, Leanne.”

  “Roger that,” she said with a nod. “Same all around?”

  “Yes, please,” Jenna replied.

  “Just soda water for me,” said Andie. Andie almost never went over three drinks out at a bar. She’d get tanked close to home, on the rooftop terrace, or if we were having a house party, but she’d had a bad experience a few years back in a bar when she was underage and got so drunk she blacked out, so she was cautious most of the time.

  Neither of them was talking. Both Andie and Jenna had eyes on me and Spencer.

  “I’m not your baby, Spence,” I muttered, as I zipped my bag shut and threw the strap over the back of my chair.

  He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on
his knees, almost right in my face. “What’s up your ass, Sunshine?”

  “Ain’t your sunshine, either. Just fuck off, okay?”

  He reared back like I’d slapped him. And then he pushed his chair back and did what I’d asked. He left.

  The music was echoing too loudly in my ears. My ears felt hot. My face felt hot. I needed air.

  “I need air,” I announced, getting to my feet.

  “We’ll come.” Andie said as she stood up.

  “Don’t,” I said, sharply. Maybe too sharply. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just need… just air.”

  I needed to not come to Deke’s Roadhouse. I needed to not be around people. I grabbed my purse and threw it over my shoulder.

  “You’re coming back, right?” Jenna asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “Just five minutes. Fresh air.”

  I left my jacket on the back of my chair and headed out the front door. The area was crawling with bikers. It was a warm night for being this early in Spring, and adding alcohol, I didn’t need a jacket.

  The area under the canopy over the door was crawling with bikers smoking cigarettes, so I moved off to the side, so I could get air without a lungful of smoke, and so I could get the minute to myself I desperately needed without anyone trying to chat me up.

  It’d be a good long time before I came back, I decided. Maybe I should call a cab. Jenna would take my coat home.

  If I was scarce, Spencer would move on and forget whatever he had in his head about making a move on me. If I was scarce, I wouldn’t have to see the looks on everyone’s faces --- the pity. I wouldn’t have to think about how stupid I’d been because my stupidity led to all this pity.

  The biker smoker crowd grew and so I moved more off to the side of the building a little more. I saw a circle of orange light that grew brighter. Spencer stepped out of the shadows and tossed the cigarette aside.

  “Can’t exactly fuck off if you follow me, Sunshine... Or, Pippa. My bad.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was a bitch.”

  He didn’t correct me.

  I started to cry. Audibly. Fuck. Stupid, Pippa.

  Before I could gather my senses and shake it off, or run away crying like a stupid girl in a bad chick flick, I was in his arms.

  “Hey, I can hack a little bit of foul language, baby.”

  I looked up at him.

  He wiped a tear away from my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and he was close, so close he was all I could see. There was a bit of a glow from a nearby exterior building light, not much, but enough that I could see warmth in his eyes.

  I grabbed his jaw with both hands and yanked his mouth to mine.

  Awe man, he tasted good. His face was smooth and warm, and he tasted just like he smelled. Amazing. And then my back was against the brick wall and his hands were in my hair on both sides of my head and he took over the kiss.

  God, it was good. It was too good. It was turning my bones to goo. One of his hands cupped my jaw as the other moved down to my throat, down to my shoulder, and then down to my ass. I now had his shoulder in one of my hands, a fistful of his shirt in my other. He hiked my leg up and hooked it around his hip and I felt his erection against my belly.

  My head rolled against brick as I absorbed the sensation of his mouth, his tongue, that erection. He bent and grinded up and it created friction, delicious friction on the perfect spot against me.

  “Stop,” I cried, pulling my leg back.

  His mouth moved away. He was breathing heavy, still plastered against my body, which was pinned to the wall.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered, just an inch away from his mouth. I was unsteady on my feet. I grabbed for the wall behind me for stability.

  He shook his head and stepped back just a few inches. He chewed his cheek and gave his head a shake.

  “I like you,” he said. “A lot. Liked you for a long time. Even when you were his. Felt a little guilty about that. ‘Cuz I thought he was a good guy. Turns out, he was a stupid fuck, so---”

  “Shh.” I covered his mouth with my hand. “I can’t hear this stuff right now. I can’t date anyone, Spencer. I’m broken right now. Just… br-broken.” My voice broke and the tears rolled down my cheeks.

  He gently pulled my hand away from his mouth, but kept holding it. “You’re not broken. Don’t let that stupid fuckhead break you. Be strong. He fucked up and you can do better. You’re free now, to find somethin’ better than that.” He squeezed my hand, still not letting go, and then he kissed the tip of my nose.

  I looked up in to his eyes and said, “I loved him.”

  His eyes went hard.

  “I loved him, and I let him break my heart. Twice. The first time was bad enough. The second time, he more than broke my fucking heart when he hit me, when he kicked me, when he called me a cunt. He shattered me, Spencer.”

  Spencer bared his teeth, lip curled, angry. He looked like he wanted to hunt someone down and tear out their entrails with his fingers. I could guess who. Jail would be a much safer place for Joe right now.

  “I can’t date right now. I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone to get involved with me when my head is so screwed up. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m very sorry. I’m not a tease. I don’t play games. I’m just… I’m fucked up right now, and you’re you ...”

  “Baby…” his eyes warmed.

  Shit. Mouth-filter malfunction.

  “Stop. Don’t say sweet things. Don’t let me be a bitch to you and then look at me all warm and sexy like that. I just have to go… I need to go home. I need to get a taxi.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut tight and then his hands were in my hair again, his forehead touching mine.

  “Spencer, I can’t. I. Just. C-can’t.” A broken sob came out of me.

  He nodded, looking disappointed, so disappointed. He glanced over his shoulder and straightened up. He let go of my hair and moved back and I fought the urge to move closer to him.

  I really needed to not be around people. Not be around Spencer.

  So, why, then, did I want to fall into his body and let him make me forget?

  “Ride!” he called out. Rider was walking toward the bar from his orange Dodge Charger.

  Rider changed direction and headed to us.

  He got a look at my face and he stiffened. “What the fuck?”

  “Can you get her home?” Spence asked.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Rider demanded, getting right in Spence’s face.

  “No! He didn’t. I did. I can’t. I’m just… can you take me home?” I grabbed Rider’s wrist.

  The anger went out of his face and he nodded. “Yeah, Pip. I can do that.”

  “Can you tell the girls?” I asked Spencer.

  Spencer lit another cigarette, blowing smoke in the other direction, not looking at me.

  “Let’s go,” Rider said, tugging my hand. “Spence’ll tell ‘em.”

  “Spence, I’m sorry,” I said.

  He didn’t reply, but his eyes moved to me and were on me. And they were on me until I turned around and aimed my eyes at Rider’s back.

  When Rider opened the car door for me, I looked back and saw Spencer in the shadows, his head down, his back against the wall with one knee bent, foot planted on the wall, too, his cigarette glowing from between fingers on the hand that was against his forehead.

  Darn.

  ***

  “Something happenin’ with you and Spency?” Rider asked after we were out of the parking lot.

  “Nothing I wanna talk about,” I said.

  “Okay, sweetheart. He’s not fucking your head up?”

  “My head’s already fucked. He’s maybe trying to un-fuck it, I don’t know, but I’m just… I’m not ready for anything with anyone so I had to make sure he got that message.”

  “Looks like he got it, honey,” Rider said softly.

  I nodded. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Why? I don’t know. My head was absolutely mu
ddled right now.

  Rider passed me a package of Kleenex from above the sun visor on the passenger side.

  “Sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  “I really don’t.”

  He didn’t push, instead he turned the radio on and that was the perfect response. Two and a half songs later, we were back at my brother’s apartment.

  Rider not only dropped me off, he also saw me safely to the door. When I got upstairs, going to plug my phone in, I saw a text from Jenna.

  “Spencer said Rider drove you home. Hope you’re okay. Love you. Takin’ your jacket home w/me. Call me tomorrow. Go for breakfast or something before we leave for Sioux Falls if you want. Txt me by 8 if you wanna meet up. Xo”

  There was another message, this one from an unknown number.

  It was a YouTube link. I didn’t click it. I felt sick about it. Was this Penny? Or was Joe trying to get me to respond from an unknown number?

  I replied with an ‘xo’ to Jenna and put the phone down.

  My brother’s bachelor pad was a big room with a living area and a sofa bed, plus a wall of kitchen cabinets, appliances, and a sink. Beyond that, there was a big walk-in closet and a bathroom. That was the extent of it. I went to the bathroom, used the facilities, washed my makeup off, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed after changing into my big white t-shirt that came almost to my knees. It had a smiling sun on it with shades on, the words “Rise, then Shine” in big cheerful letters. I’d bought it a few months ago, seeing it in a store, and pretending I just thought it was cute.

  But, truthfully, it was the sunshine on the front that made me buy it. Not because I had the hots for Spencer. But, because it was funny that he called me that those few times, particularly because the name came after that first morning when he was grumpy, and I told him sunshine was my drug of choice.

  And as I lay there, I put my fingertips to my lips and remembered the feel of his lips on mine.

  He was a great kisser. He kissed passionately. His lips were softer and fuller than Joe’s. And he teased with his kisses. Kissing, but then leaning back, making me move in for it, then licking the seam of my mouth, making me part my lips so he could get inside, which he did, only a little, teasingly, making me want more, making my body tingle, making me stick my tongue in his mouth.