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Chapter 21

We parked back behind the motorhome, and Bard reached over to gather the bags from my lap. His arm brushed against me, his head bent dangerously close, and the scent of coconut shampoo and masculine body wash mixed in with something more earthy and raw. He was nature personified. From the way he moved, to the sound of his voice. Smooth, like creek water over rocks or a breeze against bare skin.

Fucking hell, I've got it bad. Did I just write a poem about his ass because he smells good?

As if time suddenly sped up, Bard lifted back away from me and got out of the car. I followed at a distance, even watched him struggle with the door without offering to help. I didn't know what possessed me to think I would be able to live with this man and not want him. It was bad enough that he was so attractive, but it was more than that. He played the game well. It was as if those freaky eyes had read every thing about me, and now, he knew exactly what to do to penetrate my defenses.

When he disappeared through the doorway, I slowly followed his lead.

Bard tossed the bags onto the table and walked over to the set of cabinets above the cockpit. "You like movies?"

I stared at him as he rummaged through a stack of DVDs, and I took back my thoughts. He didn't know all the right things to do. If he did, he'd know all he really needed to do was turn around, give me those dark eyes, wrap me in those massive arms, and I'd have been lost. I was right on the precipice, and I knew it. My hormones ruled whenever he was concerned. Natural instinct urged me, perhaps to procreate and make more massive, beautiful men to populate the planet.

But he didn't know that, and I'd be damned if I was going to tell him.

"What is this, a date?" I flopped down at the table and tried to feign disinterest. "I don't watch movies."

"Rocky it is." He pulled a case from the pile, then stepped over and opened another cabinet to reveal a small television. He bent down in front of it and set to work getting it playing.

I shook my head and tore into one of the bags. My mouth was watering, and it wasn't for candy. But candy was what it was going to get, and it would just have to be happy with that or I'd kick my own ass.

Bard's eyes softened when he turned back and found me taking a bite out of a peanut butter cup. "I knew you'd like one of those."

I chewed begrudgingly. "I like all of them, you jerk."

He rumbled a laugh as he stretched out on the opposite side of the booth, then his eyes locked onto the screen as the opening scene played. "This one is my favorite."

I wasn't paying attention. I stared at his profile, and no matter how many times I told myself to look away, I didn't. "I haven't seen it."

His gaze snapped to my face. "You haven't seen Rocky? How the hell does that happen?"  He motioned to the television. "Everyone has seen Rocky. It's a classic."

I shrugged, grabbed a candy bar, and busied myself with tearing the wrapper. "I gave up on watching tv when I was a kid." I took a small bite and chewed it slow.

Bard watched me intently, waiting for me to continue.

I swallowed hard, took a breath. "I bounced between foster care and group homes." I shrugged. "It was always a battle to be able to see, let alone hear what was on, and if you wanted to pick, you needed to have some girth to you." I took another bite and chewed. "I've never been the biggest."

I thought I knew his eyes, thought I'd seen the way they cut, but I'd been wrong. It'd been nothing compared to what he was capable of. His guard slipped, those intense eyes opened, and it felt as if I could sink in how deep they went.

"You don't have any family?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Did you..." he paused. "Did you... lose them?"

Something about his tone made me look closer. It was raw, not as firm. I studied him as the dots connected. Zeke's tattoo. The bear. It was for his brother, and if Bard was his nephew, did that mean...

His father.

My heart lurched, but I couldn't understand why. People lost people all the time. It was the natural order of things. Circle of life and all that shit, but for some reason, I cared.

"I don't know who my father is," I said, needing to take my thoughts away from him and back to more unimportant topics, like myself. "My mother was a junkie. She overdosed when I was four." I took a larger bite. "The state took me after that."

He didn't offer a lame 'I'm sorry', and I respected him more for it. Sorry didn't change anything, and it never helped. I hated when people said things just because it was the proper thing to do.

A series of grunts echoed from the TV, and I turned just in time to see a man get hit. Blood flew from his mouth, splattered out in slow motion as if viewers needed to see every possible second.

I grimaced and looked away. "That is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen. I don't understand people who fight for fun."

Bard's lip twitched. "It's a sport. It takes skill." He wasn't even watching the movie anymore. He'd turned completely, elbows on the tabletop, weird ass eyes fixed on my face as if I were the most interesting thing since man discovered fire.

I rolled my eyes and snatched a new chocolate. "You won't catch me participating. I spent enough of my life having the shit beat out of me. I'll be damned if I show up and volunteer for it."

His eyes cut deeper. "Who beat the shit out of you."

I took a bite, chewed overly slow as I watched him watch me. "Foster kids, juvie kids. Hell, Bard. I've been to prison. The list goes on and fucking on."

His jaw clenched, but his eyes saw too much. He knew what I was leaving out. He'd already figured out that I was running from someone. Even if he didn't know who, he knew it was a man. And it didn't take a Harvard graduate to figure out what that meant.

"And the ex, he beat you?"

I nodded despite the urge to tell him to fuck off. Drake had done a lot more than beat me. Drake had tortured. "Enough about me." I cleared my throat. "What's your story?" I met his gaze, saw the moment it closed off. I pursed my lips at him. "What? You want all my dirty secrets, but can't give a few of your own."

He shook his head, eyed the table.

"You got some crazy ex?"

No response.

"Maybe it's you who's hiding. This motorhome doesn't necessarily count as the ideal place to be. There's nothing holding you here. You don't work at the shop. You don't contribute from what I can tell."

He wouldn't look up. He sat just how he had at the bar, gaze searching each scuff and chip in the tables surface.

"What do you drink to forget?"

The seconds stretched on like hours as I waited for him to speak.

I bit the inside of my cheek, and stumbled over my next words. They crossed a line. I knew they would without even having my suspicions confirmed. "Zeke has a tattoo of a bear–"

His head shot up, and I sucked in a breath at the change in his expression. Angles turned harsh. Eyes wild.

"I haven't been awake at this time of day in a long time, Tequila." His eyes met mine, raw yet guarded. "There's a bottle of Wild Turkey in the cabinet that I don't want to drink right now." He stood, circled the table, and slid into the space beside me.

I didn't object. Couldn't have even if I tried. The booth wasn't big enough for the two of us, but Bard managed it. He threw an arm over the back of the seat and turned to look down at me. Those eyes met mine, locked me in. "You help distract me, but there's only so much I think I can take before I reach for that bottle."

I nodded. It was the same reason I drank, to forget, to chase away the dreams, and I'd been a bitch to goad him. "I'm sorry. I... I can understand that."

His eyes trailed my lips as they moved. "Can you?"

I held my breath.

He lifted a hand, slow, as if reaching out to pet a skittish kitten. His eyes met mine, cautious and alert as he cupped my cheek and ran a thumb across my temple. So soft. Too soft. How a man as rough as him could make a move so gentle astonished me.

"Distract me, Tequila."

My heart flipped. I stared up at his perfect mouth, his sinful face. I'd never been a saint. I'd never been one for good decisions, and that moment was no exception.

I lifted myself up, closed the gap between us, and pressed my lips to his.

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