Page 32 of Impulsive Saint
“You wanted to road trip, so let’s road trip.” He was grinning that knowing, self-satisfied grin again when she looked up at him.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll throw up on you if you make me get on the back of the bike right now.”
He snorted, “That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
His brows furrowed a bit, as if he was only just realizing that she was actually sick and not just hiding. “If you feel sick all you have to do is tap me on the shoulder and I’ll pull over for you.”
“Can’t we stay here just a little while longer?”
“In the flea bag motel?” he chuckled again, “Damn, you really must feel like shit if you want to stay here even a second longer than absolutely necessary.”
“I feel like death warmed over.” she freely admitted, leaning her head back against the bathroom wall and looking up at him. “Why do people do that?”
“Do what?” His head tilted and he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Get drunk?”
“Yeah.” She reached up massaged her temples. “It’s not nearly as much fun as people pretend it is.”
“It can be fun, I guess, but I don’t think that’s why most people end up drunk. I think the ones that drink to excess are trying to get away from reality for a little while, escape their lives or maybe just forget for a bit.”
“I didn’t forget.” She winced as memories of her drunken exploits replayed on a loop in her head. “I remember all of it.”
“Oh yeah?” Tyler was grinning again when she looked up and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment all over again.
“Yeah. I uh… I’m sorry for that whole groping you thing.”
“Nah, forget it.” he chuckled, waving off the comment but the truth was she couldn’t forget because everything she remembered saying to him had been true.
He was ridiculously sexy. With his tousled hair, rough stubble and those piercing blue eyes, he was the walking, talking epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Add in the tattoos and the motorcycle and he was the smoking hot bad boy of all her good girl fantasies.
But it wasn’t just his looks.
He’d also come to her rescue twice now. Once outside that church and then again last night. She hadn’t given a single thought to her own safety when she’d marched across that road to a rowdy biker bar alone but he had. He was always thinking of her safety it seemed. He’d lectured her about it the first time she’d climbed on the back of his motorcycle without asking who he was or knowing if he was an ax murderer.
He’d taken care of her and he just kept doing it.
She wasn’t sure why. He didn’t really know her, and she didn’t really know him. But he’d agreed to help her when she needed help. He’d agreed to her crazy, spur-of-the-moment road trip. He was driving her halfway across the country on the back of his motorcycle just because she’d asked him to and even if he’d spent the entire day before trying to make her miserable so she’d ask him to take her home instead, he hadn’t simply refused to keep going.
He was a good guy, a good man. She knew that much and she liked that about him. She liked him, at least when he wasn’t being a total ass. She might not know why he’d agreed to help her or what he was getting out of this trip, but she appreciated that he’d taken a chance on her.
“Can I ask you something?” She chewed her lip thoughtfully.
“Sure.”
“Are we… friends?”
Tyler looked confused by the question. His dark brows pinched together thoughtfully and his mouth turned down at the corners. He was silent for so long that she felt her stomach drop out and thought she might be sick all over again. Just when she was about to tell him to forget the question, that it had been stupid, he sighed and nodded.
“Yeah. Sure… I mean, I guess so.” He gave a strangely uncomfortable looking shrug but nodded again. “Yeah, we’re friends, Ashtyn. Just two friends on a road trip to Vegas.”
“Good.” She smiled softly, “I’m glad.”
“Me too.” He smiled in return and her stomach gave another little twist.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him smile like that. All of his other smiles since the moment she met him had been knowing, smug, even condescending at times, but this smile was different. It was gentle and genuine and it made his words seem all the more real too.
They were friends.
