Page 5 of Riding the Sugar High
“Youcan’tleave me here.”
“I can, and more importantly, I have to. There’s somewhere I need to be.”
“Well, same.” And I can guarantee my plans are more important than whatever he has going on. “It’s your fault I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere. Now, you’re going to leave me in the hands of potential serial killers?”
“In Pinevale?” He snorts out a laugh. “You’re talking to the only criminal in the area.”
Eyes bobbing left and right, I shake my head. “That’s not reassuring!”
“Let me ease your concerns.” For a moment, his eyes stare into mine, then he hops on the motorcycle. “Bye.”
“No—no!” I rush in front of the wheel. “You’renotleaving. You hear me? If I’m stuck here, you’re stuck here.”
He rubs his brow as if appealing to deeply buried patience. “You know when you see those tiny-ass chihuahuas barking at Rottweilers and Pit bulls and think, ‘man, those rats should choose their battles?’”
“Are you comparing me to a dog?” I hiss.
“I’m comparing us both to dogs. I’m comparingyouto an annoying dog unaware of its size.”
Though I’d love to argue, with his helmet and those broad shoulders, he’s pretty reminiscent of a Rottweiler—silent, dangerous power.
And I do feel like quite the chihuahua right now.
“Fine. You know what? I don’t need you. In fact, you’d probably get in the way. Go. Thank you for absolutelynothing.”
With a flip of my hair, I turn around and walk back to the car, then take out my phone. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before, seeing as in a big city like Mayfield, we mostly move around with public transportation, but it can’t be too hard. They’ll have to send someone out here.
Not sure whereout hereis exactly—around me, there are trees upon trees, endless silence, and a sweet, spring melody created by the buzzing of insects all around—but I can check online.
Holy shit. No reception.
He said there’s no reception.
Why did I come here? I knew it was a bad idea. But with my two-week-long work trip to Roseberg, a visit to its neighboring town Pinevale was too tempting to pass on.
“You have to walk to the end of the road.” Arms crossed, he stares at me with his back against the bike. He’s taken his helmet off, and now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can see his high cheekbones and broad forehead. His eyebrows are thick and well-defined, sitting above striking almond-shaped eyes. With his straight and slightly narrow nose, long beard and mustache, and dark brown hair falling over his shoulders, he’s the most astonishingly attractive person I’ve ever seen in real life.
And for some reason, he kissed me.
“Great,” I mumble.
“You know, there’s no way a little bump caused this. It would have happened regardless of our accident.”
“I thought you were leaving?”
He shrugs, then walks. “And find out in the morning that you’ve been a victim of the local Hannibal Lecter?” He raises the hood of the car. “Wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“Ha-ha.” I step closer, then look down at the incomprehensible cables and boxes. “Do you know what you’re doing? I don’t want more trouble with the rental agency.”
“Happy to leave you to yourself if you’d like.”
I’d like him to go to hell, but ‘the end of the road’ feels like a whole lot in these heels, and I can’t deal with how dark and silent this place is. With nothing around but fields, the thought of being alone out here is terrifying.
As casually as I can, I twist my neck and watch him, the kiss flashing through my mind. How his beard scratched my skin, and his taste, which I can only describe as “wild nature.” He has the most beautiful hooded bedroom eyes I’ve ever seen, and while I’m usually more into metrosexual men than gruff, rugged types, I’m pretty sure he rearranged my chromosomes.
“See if there’s a toolbox in the trunk.”
I walk around the car, then stand in front of the trunk, looking for the handle. By the time I finally find the hidden button, he’s glaring at me over the car’s roof. “Got it.”
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