Page 23 of Missile Tow
His voice was boyish. Not exactly manly, but definitely not a feminine voice. I was unsure whether I’d have pegged him as gay if I hadn’t seen the picture of him and his boyfriend or husband. My senses knew he was half of a male partnership. I was jealous.
“You probably shouldn’t be on the roads,” I added, doing my best not to sound like I was scolding him.
I faced the front of the store, unable to win the contest of us staring at one another. I looked awful. I hadn’t shaved that morning. My flannel shirt was three days into a possible week-long wearing. My Levi’s were my worst pair, with most of the crotch worn out and likely to be sagging in the butt region. I wondered if I smelled bad even though I’d showered the night before.
“I guess I didn’t expect the suddenness of the weather change,” he said, sounding lost and defeated. I turned to face him as he continued. “I’m not great at seeing signs of danger.”
His statement had me wondering what he meant. I guess his admission didn’t matter as much as my reaction to it. I instantly wanted to protect him. I needed to rescue him. But he had a man. The picture proved that.
“You’re alone?” I asked, noticing Bertie slowly back away after realizing I was engaging with him. Her stepping away was a change from her usual interfering ways.
“Yes,” he answered. “But I was planning on stopping here.”
His statement surprised me. “Here? In Missile?”
He visibly shivered. “Mm hmmm,” he hummed. I glanced at his feet. His expensive loafers were wet from the short time he’d stepped through eight inches of snow when he came inside.
“Do you have friends here?” I asked, knowing he didn’t, because everyone knew everyone,and their friends and family, in this town.
“Initially, I came for the cheap gas,” he began. “But there isn’t a hotel here, and the snow got worse. I passed St. Re… St.Ron….” His cute little nose scrunched up like a little boy’s would do when deep in thought. “I forgot the name,” he said, laughing at himself and raising a thumb over his shoulder. “The town back that way.”
He was adorable. Irresistibly so. He had the smoothest complexion I’d ever seen. I wondered if he shaved. My eyes locked in on his purple-ish lips as they quivered uncontrollably, even though he didn’t lose his sweet way of speaking.Innocent. He appeared so innocent. The description stuck in my brain, making me want him even more.
“St. Regis,” I said. “And yes, they have a motor lodge there.”
His coltish eyes looked up at me, barely managing to see through his delicate lashes. “Do you think I can make it back there tonight?”
“No, you cannot!” Bertie hollered from the register. For an older woman, she had the hearing of an owl. “You will absolutely not get back on those roads tonight, young man.”
He glanced at me as if he recognized what I must deal with on a daily basis. “Bossy much?” he asked, grinning.
I nodded. “Very,” I chuckled.
His hands were wrapped around the Styrofoam cup, absorbing every bit of warmth from the coffee. His tasteful button-down shirt hugged a fit chest, and a slim waist was accented by an elegant-looking belt. I’d seen men like this in fashion magazines. I’d sworn I hated those types on sight, but now I was unsure if that was true.
He was classy without acting so. He had a unique ability to appear kind, even if it turned out he wasn’t. I figured first impressions must be easy for him. Unlike me, who I thought most people saw as a bit too bristly for most tastes, he was a natural at seeming warm.
“Do you have warm clothes in your SUV?” I inquired, glancing at his feet and motioning with my hand. “Those shoes and the bottom edges of your jeans look soaked.”
“I do,” he answered. “A lot of clothes and luggage,” he added. “I’m going to Denver. A job possibility. A new start and stuff. Maybe a new life and adventure.”
He stopped rambling and began to blush. “And?” I asked, trying to keep him talking. He’d said,new life.New adventure. I wondered about the guy in the picture in the BMW? I hoped for as much intel as I could from him.
“I tend to ramble,” he explained. “My mom says I’m an open book. Maybe too open.”
“My mom said the opposite about me,” I surprisingly admitted. “I tend to be more of the quiet type.”
We locked eyes. I was trying to read his mind, hoping he found me as charming as I found him. I felt an overwhelming desire to tell him my life story, completely out of character, and I wanted to know everything about his.
Time stood still as we continued ogling one another. I was maybe a couple of inches taller than he was. My mind took a mental note, wondering how we’d fit if I walked up to him and kissed him right then and there. Did he taste like cherry lip balm? Was his face as smooth as it looked if I nuzzled his cheek?Get a grip, Chip.
“I guess I’ll try to make it back to St. Regis,” he whispered, glancing outside with trepidation clearly written on his face.
I was running out of questions and ways to keep him from going. The thought of him disappearing from my life before I showed him my best traits seemed unacceptable. What was it about him? I hadn’t felt the need to protect so intensely since when? Since John?
Why was I suddenly so twisted inside and heartsick over a stranger? There’d been dozens of strangers who had rolled inand chatted with me the past year. Some were smoking hot, too. This guy was pulling at my heart in a major way. He pushed all the buttons that caused me to want him.
He moved past me and made his way to the front door. Bertie to the rescue. She stepped in front of the door. I’d been stuck to the floor like my boots were nailed to it, but she wasn’t letting this stunning creature past her.
