Page 7 of Reckless
But dammit, I end up thinking of my mom or my sister lost on a back road. I go back to her being lost instead of driving like an asshole on purpose. A quick glance at my phone in its holster tells me reception is officially gone on this stretch, so she can’t possibly be texting anyone.
I flash my high beams, thinking I can help if she pulls over.
I immediately feel like a serial killer.
No woman in her right mind would pull over on a dark road to talk to a strange man who flashed his high beams at her.
So, I settle in, crank my Chris Stapleton, and let my eyes wander out over the snow-covered fields. All crisp and white, reflecting the light of the moon, they make it seem not so dark anymore. Before long, I’m approaching the turnoff into Wishing Well Ranch, which means I can finally bid my terrible driving temptress farewell.
Except she signals. And turns into the ranch.
My mind whirs with what that might mean. She’s definitely going to think I’m stalking her. And if we’re both heading to the same place, she’s someone I know in a roundabout way.
Once the lit house comes into view, her car accelerates right to the front porch. She hits the brakes and flies out of her car, slamming the door and storming in my direction before I can even get out of my truck.
When I make it out, I hear, “Are you fucking insane?”
Okay. She’s mad. And she doesn’t sound drunk at all. She’s got her keys wedged between her fingers like claws and I instantly like this girl.
No preamble. Just comes out swinging. She’s tiny and ferocious. I feel like Peter Pan getting reamed by Tinkerbell.
“Easy, Tink.” I offer her a smile and lift my hands in surrender, not wanting to make her feel threatened.
“Tink?” Her voice goes even louder.
I wave a hand over her. “Yeah, you’ve got this whole angry little Tinkerbell vibe happening. I dig it.” I let my gaze trace her body for only a moment, not wanting to border on leering. But hey, fair is fair after the way she gawked at the gas station.
“You’re fucking nuts, you know that?” She starts back in. “You drive like an asshole behind me for a solid ten minutes, and now you follow me here? To . . . to . . . check me out and compare me to a Disney pixie?” Her arms flap angrily, and her dainty face twists up in fury. A look like that could incinerate a man on the spot.
But not me.
I shouldn’t prod her. I know I shouldn’t. But I feel like a kid with a crush who mocks the girl he likes to get her attention.
And I like the way this one fires back.
I want more.
“I think she’s actually a fairy. And for the record, driving twenty below the speed limit is also dangerous and could kill someone. Mostly me. From boredom,” I joke.
Her eyes widen almost comically, a sure sign that I failed to lighten the mood at all. “It’s dark and snowy! I don’t know the area. There could be wildlife! Driving slowly is safe so long as a back-forty hillbilly isn’t riding my ass in his small-dick truck, flashing his high beams at me.”
My lips clamp down against each other.
Fuck.
I really like this girl.
I should stop. I should walk away. I should channel my maturity and not flirt with her by infuriating her.
But I’ve always been a little reckless.
“I hear that if you want your ass ridden, a small dick is the way to go. So maybe I’m your guy.”
My dick isn’t small. But I’m happy to make sacrifices to land a good joke. Only a small-dicked dude would miss this opportunity.
I shouldn’t have said it, but the pure shock that paints her pretty features makes it all worth it. She’s so fired up; I just can’t help myself. Play with fire and I’ll be there to pour gasoline on it for you.
Her hand shoots up between us. “I’m married, you fucking pig. Now leave.” Her hand flips out firmly, pointing down the driveway.
