Page 99 of Ripped & Shipped
I look straight in her eyes, and lift one brow as a slow smile spreads across my face. Then I hold my right hand a few inches from my jawline. Slowly—oh, so slowly—I cup my chin and drag my hand down my facial hair. All the while, my eyes never leave hers.
Her pupils might dilate, or I might be dreaming that they do. Either way, I can tell my taunting got to her. Maybe it’s just because we love playing cat and mouse almost more than we enjoy anything else we do together. But maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to feel a fraction of what I’m feeling for her.
“Okay,” she says, not missing a beat. “I warned you.”
Ella Mae reaches over and runs her hand over my beard. And she’s not just getting it over with so we can get in the car and hit the road. Oh, no. She’s retaliating. And I am here for all of it. If this is her way of getting even, I say bring on the revenge.
She is basically petting my beard, and she hums while she runs her palm across my jaw.
“Mmmmm, that’s so nice.”
She has the audacity to look me straight in the eyes while she caresses my beard and coos out her appreciative comments.
I resist (1) purring like an overgrown cat, (2) leaning into her hand like a lovesick puppy, and (3) grabbing her face and kissing her senseless. Basically, I deserve a medal for self-control.
“Have you had your fill of fondling my beard?” My voice is raspy and intense.
“Hmmm … maybe. For now, yes.”
I shake my head.
I grab both her suitcases and walk toward my truck, hoisting them into the back and securing them. Then I walk toward the passenger door and open it for Ella Mae.
“Why, thank you, Soldier. I’m not sure we have an audience, but I appreciate the gesture anyway.”
I give her my hand and she hops up onto the bench seat of my truck, pulling that beacon of a backpack behind her. If we need to flag someone down for roadside assistance, all we’ll have to do is wave that thing around.
I’ve barely started the engine when Ella Mae announces, “I brought snacks! And I have the playlist all cued up on my Spotify. Do you have bluetooth in this thing?”
I chuckle. “I’ve got bluetooth. And I just had my protein shake, so I’m good for now. Do you need me to drive through anywhere to get you breakfast?”
“Nope. I had my smoothie too. It’s not all Pop-Tarts and Lucky Charms over here. A girl’s gotta watch her figure.”
I’m trying not to watch her figure now that she mentions it.
She promptly kicks off her sandals and puts her feet up on the dash, her hot pink toenails on full display.
“I just love a road trip! Don’t you, Big Boy?”
“Usually.”
“When don’t you? Now?”
“No. I like this fine. I just sometimes would rather not drive anywhere.”
“Not me. I love getting out of this town and seeing the world. I don’t do it near enough. I mean, maybe I’m a creature of habit. But I also love seeing new sights, meeting new people. Just shaking things up a bit, you know?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Some people might want a drive to be quiet and peaceful. Maybe there were times I would have preferred that. Today, all I want is to listen to Ella Mae rattle on, her exuberant personality filling the cab with a sense of hope and anticipation. It’s been a while since I’ve felt either of those emotions.
The drive from Bordeaux to Cincinnati takes us an hour and a half. In that time, Ella Mae breaks out the Cheetos, then Red Vines, a bottled Frappucino (I turn one down while she cracks hers open and hums after she sips it), Ritz Bits, and finally, M&Ms.
“Where do you put all that?” I joke.
“It’s a magical thing called metabolism. I’ve got one that I think belonged to a horse in a previous life. Not that I was a horse in a previous life. As crazy as I am, I don’t buy into that whole past life stuff. Sorry, Shirley MacLaine. I just think we’re here once and we need to make the best of it. Plus, I work out daily.”
“Me too.”
