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“Sure.”
He let go, and everything skewed sideways and slid off, and then he had a hand beneath her arm, a bruising grip that made her want to bite his smug beautiful face off. If she could even open her eyes, she would totally do it.
She did the next best thing.
“Roman?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That Escalade has a trailer hitch, right?”
It did. She’d seen it.
But he hesitated a long time before he said, “Yes.”
No lying. Clever of her to have thought to bind him that way.
“Because I have this trailer.”
“No trailer.”
She opened her eyes. Water dripped off his nose into her eye socket, and she blinked. She couldn’t feel her knees at all.
“It’s an Airstream,” she said solemnly. “A real beauty. you’re going to love it.”
“I don’t … trail things.”
She’d finally managed to appall him. It was such a delightful thing to see his wide nostrils and the corners of his mouth dragged down as though someone had caught them with invisible fishhooks. She wanted to do a little dance.
Maybe later, when her legs recovered.
“You said you’d take me with my belongings. You promised.”
“I thought you meant a duffel bag. Possibly a suitcase.”
“I meant an Airstream trailer.”
“That’s devious.”
She smiled. “I know.”
And because she wanted to rattle him some more, she made a monumental effort and flung her arms around his neck. It hurt her shoulders so badly, she thought she might die, but she rose up on her toes anyway, ignoring the inevitable leg cramp, and kissed him smack on the lips, hard.
Nice juicy lips. But even nicer, the intensification of everything horrible in his expression. His eyes had gone to slits, and his nostrils were all Minotaur-like. And he was spotty all of a sudden, his lovely brown skin covered in dark, fuzzy-edged blotches that …
Actually, no. That was her vision.
“Buddy,” she said sweetly, as the clapping hands returned, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
And then she fainted, and he caught her.
BY RUTHIE KNOX
Ride with Me
About Last Night
Along Came Trouble
