I
wondered if the vibration would feel good between my legs.
The sun caught the chrome of
a Harley Davidson parked a few spots over, gleaming in the sweltering midday
sun. I waited until Maroon Five finished
playing on the radio, oddly fixated on the two-wheeled-man-toy as I fished in
my purse for my cell phone. The
motorcycle was simple—high gloss black and shiny silver, worn leather
saddlebags with a skull embossed below the initials C.B.
How
good would it feel to ride? Wind blowing
through my long hair, arms wrapped around a man with a tough sounding nickname,
engine purring beneath my jean clad thighs.
Horse? Drifter? Guns?
Wait. No. Pres.
My imaginary biker was most definitely called Pres. And he’d look just like Charlie Hunnam.
I
glanced down at my iPhone and found a half dozen new messages from Harrison. Inwardly, I smirked. Certainly, there is no one named Harrison
that ever rode a Harley. Tossing my phone back in my bag, I cut the engine of
my packed BMW and glanced behind me into the backseat. Boxes piled to the ceiling were beginning to
make my full-size car feel claustrophobic.
A
bus full of travelers pulled into the rest stop. Great. I’d better go in now
and get my lunch, otherwise I’d never get out of here. Ten hours into a
cross-country trip from Chicago to Temecula, California, I was somewhere in the
middle of Nebraska with about another twenty some odd hours to go.
After
a fifteen-minute wait inside for Pepsi and Popeyes fried chicken bites that I
planned to eat back in the car, I stopped into the small souvenir shop. I was so tired and didn’t really feel like
driving the additional five hours I had to go before finding a place to sleep
for the night. Yawning, I decided to stall and browse for a few minutes. Checking out some trinkets, I eventually
picked up a Barack Obama bobblehead and shook it mindlessly, watching its
maniacal smile as the head bounced up and down.
“Get
it. You know you want it,” a deep, raspy voice said from behind my shoulders.
Startling me, it caused a knee-jerk reaction that resulted in the bobblehead
slipping from my fingers and falling to the ground. The head broke off of the
spring neck and rolled away.
The
woman at the register shouted, “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to pay for that.
Twenty dollars.”
“Damn
it!” I spewed, following the path of the rolling head. As I bent down to pick
it up, there was the voice again from behind me.
“And
to think, some people say he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He seemed to
have an Australian accent.
“You
think this is funny, asshole?” I asked before turning around and getting my
first look at the man behind the voice.
I
froze.
Oh.
Shit.
“You
don’t need to be a fucking bitch about it.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin
as he handed me the bottom half of Obama. “And for the record, I did think that
was really funny, yes.”
I
swallowed and seemed to lose my ability to speak as I took in the Adonis
standing before me. I wanted to smack that cocky smile right off his face,
though—his gorgeous, chiseled, scruffy face, framed by a thick head of
copper-brown hair. Fuck me. This man was insanely hot, not someone I expected
to come across out here. This was the middle of nowhere USA, not the Australian
outback for Christ’s sake.
I
cleared my throat. “Well, I didn’t think it was funny at all.”
“Then,
you need to take the stick out of your arse and lighten up.” He reached out his
hand. “Give it to me, Princess. I’ll pay for the damn thing.” Before I could
respond, he grabbed the two broken pieces from me, and I cursed at the shiver
that ran down my spine from the brief contact of his hand brushing against
mine. Of course, he had to smell amazing on top of it all.
I
followed him to the register as I fished through my messy purse for money, but
he was too quick and had paid for it already.
He
handed me a plastic bag containing the broken bobblehead. “There’s some change
in the bag. Buy yourself a sense of humor.”
HUE-MA.
That accent.
My
jaw dropped as he walked away and out of the store.
What
an ass.
It
was. A fine one. A thick, juicy, round ass hugged tightly by his jeans. God, I
really needed to get laid, because it didn’t seem to matter that this guy had
just insulted me to my face; my panties were practically wet.
After
several minutes of staring into space at a shelf of Nebraska Cornhuskers
t-shirts, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt. My reaction to the incident
proved that fatigue had gotten the best of me; I wasn’t usually that
short-tempered. It was time to shake off the bizarre encounter and get moving.
My stomach was growling, and I was looking forward to breaking into the fried
chicken once I hit the road. I snuck a piece out of the box in my bag as I
walked out of the building. My chewing ceased when I noticed him two spots down
from my car—sitting on the very motorcycle I’d been fantasizing about earlier.
Approaching
slowly, I hoped he didn’t notice me. No such luck. Instead, when he spotted me,
he flashed an exaggerated smile and waved.
Frantically
searching for my keys, I rolled my eyes and muttered, “You again.”
He
snickered. “Did you end up buying a sense of humor?”
“I
used the change to buy you some couth instead.”
Chuckling,
he shook his head at me. Running his
hand through his hair, he put his shiny black helmet on and cranked the Harley.
The rumble shook me to my core.
Getting
in the car and slamming the door, I couldn’t help taking one last look over at
him, seeing as though I’d never see this guy again in my lifetime. He winked
through the helmet, and my pathetic heart fluttered.
I
watched through the rear view mirror as he backed out of the spot. I expected
him to take off like a bat out of hell, but after moving away slowly, he
abruptly stopped. He kept trying to rev the bike to get it to move, but nothing
was happening. Eventually turning off the engine, he removed his helmet and ran
his hand through his hair in frustration before getting off to inspect things.
I should have just left, but couldn’t take my eyes off him as he struggled to
get it to run. Man, that sucks.
I
dipped one of the chicken bites into the honey mustard sauce and popped it into
my mouth, continuing to watch this like a spectator sport for several minutes.
At one point, he took out his phone and made a phone call as he paced back and
forth.
Putting
his phone away, he looked in my direction and glared at me. Caught in the act
of watching him, I let out a nervous laugh. I didn’t mean to laugh at the
situation, but it just came out. He raised his brow, and that made me cackle
harder. He slowly walked toward me, clutching the helmet by his side. He
knocked on my window, and I lowered it.
“You
think this is funny, Princess?”
“Not
really…maybe.” I snorted.
“Well,
I’m glad you finally managed to find your sense of humor.”
HUE-MA.
God,
his accent was sexy.
He
arched his neck to look into the backseat and took notice of all the boxes.
“You homeless or something? Living out of your car?”
“No.
I’m in the middle of a cross-country move.”
“Where
you headed?”
“Temecula.”
“California.”
He nodded. “Me, too.”
I
looked toward his Harley. “Well, it looks like you’re not exactly headed anywhere
anytime soon. I guess it’s payback for calling me a bitch.”
“Well,
that would seem to be the case.”
“That
it’s payback?”
“No,
that you’re a bitch.”
“Very
funny.”
“You
know what’s even better than payback?” he asked leaning into the window, his
cologne intoxicating me.
“What?”
He
wiggled his brows. “Karma.”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Come
around and have a look at the back of your Beemer.”
BEE-MA.
I
got out and walked around to the back of my car to find my right rear tire was
completely flat.
What?
This cannot be happening.
With
my hand on my forehead, I looked over at his smug expression. “Are you kidding
me? Did you know my tire was flat all this time?”
“I
noticed it right around the time I caught you popping chicken and laughing at
me, yes. It was real hard for me to keep a straight face at that point.”
I
didn’t know how to change a tire to save my life. I couldn’t believe what I was
about to ask of him.
“Do
you know how to change a tire?”
“Of
course I do. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t know how to change a
tire?”
“Will
you help me? I know you have no reason to want to…after our little altercation,
but I’m seriously desperate. I don’t want to be stuck out here all alone at
night.”
“Let
me ask you a question.”
“Okay…”
He
rubbed the scruff on his chin. “How badly do you want your tire changed?”
I
backed away from him. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“Get
your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart. I’m not fucking propositioning you if
that’s what you think. You’re not my type.”
“And
what exactly is your type?”
“I
typically go for women who don’t have the personality of a door knob.”
“Thanks.”
“My
pleasure.”
“So,
what are your conditions?”
“Well,
as you clearly know from your laughing fit, my Harley is experiencing a
technical malfunction at the moment. It needs a part that I don’t have. I just
called a tow company. But I’m on a deadline, and like you, I need to get to
California.”
“You’re
not suggesting…”
“Yes.
Yes, I am. If I change your tire, you let me ride with you.”
“Ride
with me?”
“Ride
me, yes.”
“What
did you just say?”
“You’re
hearing things.”
I
shook my head to rid the images now flashing through it. Did my tired mind only
imagine that he just said that, or was he messing with me?
“I
cannot drive hundreds of miles with a total stranger,” I said.
“It’s
a fuck of a lot safer than driving alone.”
“Not
if you’re a serial killer!”
“Look
who’s talking. You’re the one who decapitated a U.S. president.”
I
couldn’t help but laugh. This situation was seriously insane.
“Holy
shit, Princess, is that a laugh at your own expense, I see?”
“I
think you’re making me delirious.”
He
stuck out his hand. “So, you in?”
I
crossed my arms instead of taking it. “What choice do I have?”
“Well,
you could always have him change your tire.” He gestured to a large and
scary-looking man who seemed to be watching us. This guy looked like Herman
Munster in the flesh.
Letting
out a deep breath, I conceded. “I’m in. I’m in! Just get me out of here.”
“I
thought you might say that. Please tell me you have a spare.”
“Yeah.
But I have to move some of my boxes so you can get to it.”
He
started to crack up when he got a load of the situation inside my trunk. “Damn,
what the hell is all this crap?”
I
looked into his eyes and answered honestly, “My entire life.”
I
temporarily piled the contents of the trunk onto the pavement. He got the spare
out and immediately got to work.
As
he was changing the tire, his white t-shirt rode up, exposing his tanned,
rock-hard abs and a thin trail of hair that ran into his underwear line.
Unwanted tension built between my legs. I needed a distraction, so I walked
over to his bike and sat on it, gripping the handles and imagining what it would
be like to ride in the wind. But all I could envision now was him in front of
me, and that wasn’t helping.
He
slid his body from under my car. “Be careful, little girl. That’s not a toy.”
I
hopped off and ran my finger along the letters emblazoned on the saddlebags.
“What’s C.B. stand for anyway?”
“Those
are my initials.”
“Let
me guess…Cocky Bastard?”
“See…I
would have told you my name, but since you’re so clever, I think I’ll just let
you guess.”
“Whatever,
Cocky.”
He
lay back down on the ground. “I’m just tightening up these nuts, and we’ll be
ready to go.”
“Nuts?”
“Lug
nuts…on the wheel, dirty girl.”
“Oh.”
Hopping
up, he lifted his shirt and used it to wipe his forehead. “All set.”
Damn.
“That
was quick. Are you sure it’s on right?”
“I’ve
got a few screws loose, darling, as you’ll soon find out, but none of them are
on your wheel.” He winked and for the first time, I noticed his dimples. “We
should probably stop tomorrow and get a new tire put on. This spare is really
not meant for long term use.”
Tomorrow.
Wow. This was really happening.
“We
should get going,” I said. “I’ll drive. I need to be in control of this
situation.”
“Whatever
you want,” he said.
I
could feel the tension in my neck as I backed out of the spot. This was going
to be very interesting to say the least. He wasted no time digging into my
chicken bites.
I
playfully slapped his hand. “Hey, lay off my food.”
“Honey
mustard? I prefer barbecue.” He licked his thumb, and I swore at myself for
getting turned on a little. This was going to be a long ride.
He
smirked and lifted the plastic bag from the souvenir shop. “Did you even open
it?”
“No.
What’s the point? It’s just a broken bobblehead.”
Handing
it to me, he said, “Is it?”
With
one hand on the steering wheel, I took out the bobblehead which was…in one
piece.
“What
the…how did you?”
“You
seemed to like it, so I paid for the other and bought you a different one. You
were too busy looking through your purse to notice.”
I
couldn’t help but smile and shook my head.
“Well,
whaddya know. A genuine smile.” He held out his hand. “Here…gimme.” When, I
handed it to him, he took an adhesive strip off the bottom and stuck it to the
dash. Obama’s head was now bopping up and down with every movement of the car.
I
broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness but also couldn’t help the warm
feeling that came over me with that sweet gesture. Maybe he wasn’t really a
bastard at all.
We
were quiet for a while as he lay his head back and shut his eyes. Somewhere
along I-76 after the sun set into a bright orange glow that illuminated the
horizon in the distance, he turned to me.
His
voice was groggy. “I’m Chance.”
After
several seconds of silence, I said, “Aubrey.”
“Aubrey,”
he repeated in a breathy whisper, seeming to contemplate my name before closing
his eyes again and turning his head away.
Chance.
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RELEASE
DATE: August 17th, 2015
Blurb
He
was someone who belonged in my wildest fantasies instead of a rest stop in the
middle of Nebraska.
A
sexy, cocky, Australian named Chance was the last person I expected to run into
on my cross-country drive.
When
my car broke down, we made a deal. Next thing I knew, we were traveling
together, spending sexually-tense nights in hotels and taking unplanned
detours.
My
ordinary road trip turned into the adventure of a lifetime. It was all fun and
games until things got intense.
I
wanted him, but Chance wouldn’t make a move. I thought he wanted me too, but
something was holding him back.
I
wasn’t supposed to fall for the cocky bastard, especially when I knew we’d be
going our separate ways.
All
good things must come to an end, right?
Except
our ending was one I didn’t see coming.
About the Authors:
Vi Keeland
Vi
Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children that occupy most of her free
time, which she complains about often, but wouldn't change for the world. She
is a bookworm and has been known to read her kindle at stop lights, while
styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during sporting events, and frequently
while pretending to work. She is a
boring attorney by day, and an exciting smut author by night!
Additional Books by
Vi Keeland
Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)
Beat
Amazon US:
Throb
MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)
Worth the Fight (MMA Fighter Series, Book One)
Amazon:
Worth The Chance (MMA Fighter Series, Book Two)
Amazon US:
Worth Forgiving (MMA Fighter Series, Book Three)
Amazon US:
The Cole Series (2 book serial)
Belong to You (Cole Series, Book One)
Amazon US:
Made for You (Cole Series, Book Two)
Amazon US:
Standalone novels
Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)
Amazon US:
First Thing I See
Amazon US:
Meet Penelope Ward
Penelope
Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author.
She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties
as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career.
She is the proud mother of a beautiful 10-year-old girl with autism and a
9-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.
Other books from
Penelope Ward
Stepbrother Dearest
Gemini
Jake Undone (Jake #1)
My Skylar
Jake Understood (Jake
#2)
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