Page 31 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Dylan

This has been the weirdest eighteen hours of my life, and somehow, I think it’s not going to stop feeling weird.

We still haven’t talked. But could I have? Not coherently. My minor meltdown took so much out of me that when I changed, all I could handle was doing exactly what I am now, sitting on the couch in Rogue’s ‘living room’.

“You ready to get on the road?” Rogue pokes his head into the apartment.

Am I? I barely tolerate road trips on my own. Being stuck in a truck with a man I barely know for days, possibly a week, will be a trial by fire. “Let’s do it.”

Rogue holds out a hand to me.

After he left me alone this morning, I might have snooped around a bit. There’s not a single sign of a woman in his room, even in the kitchen area, which only seems to have beer, protein shakes, a couple of steaks in the freezer, and coffee. I set mine in his.

His fingers fold around mine as the sexiest smile spreads across his face.

As soon as we step outside of his room, everything becomes sterile and white. I wasn’t really paying attention when we walked here yesterday. “Where are all the doors?”

“Hidden.” Rogue makes turn after turn, going upstairs then downstairs with only two doors in sight on each level.

Why would they do that? “It’s a maze. Tell me the doors are traps, because that would be wild. This way, if there was an invading force, they would have a hard time finding anything. And if you had secret tunnels, you could move around and get the jump on them.”

Rogue stops to look at me. “I love how your mind works.”

“Which means I’m right.” EEEEEEE!

“Only old ladies get to know the answer to that question.” He winks at me.

“Most people would find it insulting to be called an old lady.” I mean, I’m not a spring chicken or a perky cheerleader anymore—not that I ever was—but still.

He steps forward until we’re close enough that I can smell his cinnamon toothpaste.

“They don’t understand what a compliment it is.

Every time I call you my old lady, it’s me telling you and the world that you’re the one I want to spend forever with.

The one I want to grow old with. The one that I love above everything else this world has to offer.

So no, Peaches, we won’t have that problem. ”

WOW! “Is it getting hot in here?” I fan myself even though I know the temperature didn’t change.

“We could make it even warmer?” He leans down so close.

“You can’t kiss me.” Fool. Why did you say that? You want him to kiss you.

“No, I can’t. And I won’t.” He doesn’t move a muscle.

Why isn’t he— “You want me to kiss you.”

His grin says it all.

Initially, I made the rule because I thought he was with someone else. Then he had to go and say that. “Challenge accepted. Don’t think I can be tempted. We’re going to take this time to get to know each other without the distraction of kissing. You know you turn my mind into mush.”

“I had an idea.” That grin turns positively sexy.

“Just because you could be the morally grey main character in a romance novel, doesn’t mean I’m going to be the weak woman that falls for your wicked charm.”

His chuckles fill the hallway, echoing back at me.

Tempting man. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

“We should.” He brushes a finger across my cheek.

Don’t kiss him. If you want a serious, lasting relationship, it can’t just be based on the physical. I step back. “Let’s get this party started.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you love road trips.” He starts walking again with my hand firmly in his.

“Not in the least. I get antsy and bored. And I never get bored.” I hate admitting a weakness.

“Another thing we have in common.”

“Another? What else do we have in common?” It’s hard to think I have anything in common with this man. Other than an obsession to kiss him.

“We’ll do anything to protect a friend. We don’t play games. If we want something, we fight for it. And we forgive freely.”

He knows all that about me? “What we’re doing now is kind of a game?”

“This is us flirting.”

It is?

“And showing each other how much we trust them.”

Oh.

OH.

Without another word, we walk outside.

A fancy black truck with wheels that come up to my waist sits idling in front of the door. Attached to it is a matching black trailer with their club’s name on the side. “What’s inside?”

“Two motorcycles.”

Havoc called them custom orders. “You make custom motorcycles.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am. That’s what you call old ladies.”

Integer chuckles as he walks up. “The truck’s full. Everything is tied down nice and tight and covered. I’ll see you in a week.” He hands Rogue three sets of keys and walks away.

A week. A WEEK. We’re going to end up killing each other by then. Trial by fire.

“Ready?”

No. “Of course.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I am. “Is that another thing we have in common?”

“It might be.” He opens the truck door for me.

The first challenge of the trip presents itself. “How am I supposed to get in there?”

“Like this.” He puts two hands on my waist and lifts me up onto the seat.

That was completely impractical, but sexy nonetheless.

He closes the door, runs around the front of the truck, and hops in. “First challenge of the trip. Do we have similar taste in music?”

Why do I find him so cute when he says that? A couple doesn’t have to like the same music. But now I want us to. “I don’t have my phone with any of my playlists.”

“Your purse is in the glove box. Vandal didn’t have time to do a thorough scan of your phone and laptop, so we got you new ones.

He transferred over your contacts and messages, but left nothing else.

The laptop is clean. It has all the bells and whistles plus every subscription you might need.

He attached a club credit card to its wallet, so feel free to sign up for anything he might have missed. ”

All I need are my cloud documents and to log into my email right now. “So, then let’s start with your playlists while I make some.”

“On it, ma’am.”

“Don’t even!”

“I love tormenting you.” He flips the music on with a wink.

***

Two hours later, it can be confirmed that we have similar taste in music, a blend of blues, jazz, classic rock, and the occasional heavy metal song. I haven’t gotten that antsy feeling yet. “Are you going to feed me soon?”

“Do I have to worry about you getting hangry?”

Might as well be honest. “Always.”

“Breakfast it is. Anything you in the mood for?”

“Surprise me.”

“The next challenge. I know just the place. It’s about fifteen minutes from here.”

Fifteen minutes? “You had already planned on stopping.”

“Sure did, Peaches.”

I love it when he calls me Peaches, but it’s time I told him my real name. “Rogue, my name is Dylan.”

“Excuse me. Say that again. I thought you said your name was Dylan.”

“It is.”

“I’m not tattooing the name Dylan on my chest.”

Tattooing? “Huh? You’re not tattooing my name on you.”

“Too late for that demand.”

What did he just say? “You didn’t. We weren’t even dating.” Are we even now? I think so. Maybe probably.

“I did.”

“Show me.”

He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Not while you’re driving, of course.” Though it’s going to torment me not knowing what he put on his body. “When we stop.”

“No.”

WHAT?

“I’ll show you right after we kiss the next time.”

That’s evil. Totally evil. I’m impressed. “You’re not playing nice.”

“I’m playing to win.” He pulls the truck into a little mom-and-pop restaurant. “Ready for the best burnt end hash you’ve ever tasted?”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”