Page 13 of A Deeper Blue
Episode 8
V.F.W.
Rafe
Rafe cruised the freeway, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his hair and Azure’s arms around his waist. They had slipped through the Warlocks search party. Not that he wasn’t concerned about what would happen when those assholes figured that out, but with any luck, he could move fast enough to avoid them. And once they were in Oregon, he could put out the call. He was on pack business, so the pack could come and watch his ass, even if they didn’t like it. Rafe still hadn’t figured out why his father had called him or what the hell was up with the damn Hydro Flask, but he had decided that whatever reasons his father had for calling him, it probably wasn’t to bring him back into the pack. Their relationship had always been contentious. It wasn’t like sixty years apart had changed that. Rafe’s current plan was to give his father the stupid water bottle in his saddlebag, then take Azure and go home to Wyoming, where hopefully she’d spend the summer with him. Wyoming with Azure was a pretty damn good consolation prize, and he wouldn’t mind being able to pull up to the homestead with a real-live, gorgeous witch on the back of his bike and then drive off like he didn’t give two shits about the pack or Warlocks.
They put in another few hours of riding to put some good distance between them and the Warlocks, but eventually, Rafe pulled into a tiny town and did a lap of the main drag to get the lay of the land. Then he pulled into the V.F.W. Rafe parked in a slot that had been marked Veterans Only, flipped off the engine, and ran his hand down the tank. It was an old habit left over from when he’d been able to feel how hot the engine was running from the tank. The new tech was so much better than the forties when he’d purchased the bike after the war. The black Triumph had been rebuilt so many times that there might not have been an original part on the damn thing, but he loved the bike. But he had to admit that coming out of the hotel in the morning, he’d hit a new level of love when he’d seen Azure sitting on the back. Together they were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Veterans Only?” Azure asked without moving her arms from around his waist. Her voice was warm, if skeptical, in his ear.
“I served. Admittedly, it was in World War II. But I’m still entitled. Also, you can hit the Walmart down the road and get some supplies while I get a drink.”
“Fuck you,” she said tartly and whacked him on the back. “I’m not your personal shopper.”
“I’m your ride to Oregon,” he said, unable to stop himself from being a smartass. “You’ve got to pitch in something.”
She climbed off the bike and stretched, making a face that said she was stiff from being on the bike for so long. Her back arched, and Rafe watched her breasts shove forward, parting his jacket that she still wore.
“If you don’t like the way I ride you, you can go find someone else to pay your gas money,” she said, arms still up.
He got off the bike, wrapped his arms around her, and growled into her ear. She shivered at the sound, her entire body doing a little shimmy down his front.
“Sweetheart, you are welcome to ride me any way you want, but you’re still going to want at least a jacket and some rain gear. We’ve been lucky, and maybe you know a good weather spell, but we’re still about to hit the great Pacific Northwest where rain is the default setting.”
“Mm,” said Azure, sounding thoughtful, as one hand wound its way into his hair. “I also need some new underwear since someone saw fit to destroy mine.”
“They were in the way,” he said. “Besides, you’ve got more.”
“Six more,” said Azure. “What am I supposed to do on day seven? That’s all the underwear I have.”
“Just go commando,” he suggested. “I do it all the time. It’s fine.”
“Yes, well, I imagine that having fewer clothes on is frequently more convenient for you,” she said. “I, on the other hand, prefer to have my assets covered up like a decent person.”
“Are you saying I’m indecent?” he asked, sliding one hand down to her ass.
“Entirely filthy,” she murmured, brushing a kiss over his lips.
A jacked-up truck drove by and let out a long blare of the horn. The driver leaned out and gave them a whoop, clearly commenting on their display. Rafe growled his annoyance as Azure backed up.
“This is why I don’t live in town,” he muttered.
“Where do you live?” asked Azure, chuckling.
“Wyoming. I’ve got 600-acres to myself.” He eyed her to see what kind of reception she’d give the idea of Wyoming.
“Let me guess,” said Azure, “a cabin with no indoor plumbing.”
“I have indoor plumbing! I got a great composting toilet!”
“Oh. Did you go for the Laveo Super Toilet?”
“No, I went for the Liberty Head,” he said.
“Ooh, top of the line,” she said, looking like she meant it.
“Well, after fifty years, I got tired of digging out new septic fields,” he said casually. He didn’t want to look like he was bragging about his toilet. That was weird.
