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I am not ready to fuck up some woman’s life, she thought. Or some kid’s life.
That unsettled feeling twisted her stomach one notch tighter. The feeling had her itching to pull out her Fuck Book. A hook-up with one of her more orally skilled pickups could be a fun way to spend her day off. Maybe that accountant-looking guy. His tongue was fairly magical.
Her phone buzzed, and she veered onto a stoop out of the rain to read the message.
Does seven tonight work?he asked.
Absolutely,she replied.
With one appointment set, she tucked her phone away and pulled out the leather-bound journal. What the hell, why not schedule a little fun as well?
3
Ryder’s eyes flew open. In a second, he was up and out of bed, standing naked in a shabby bedroom.
Oh. Right.
The long days of riding in cold and rainy weather for the last week had left him weary and ready for rest. He didn’t want the reward of no-strings sex until he’d gotten to his destination, but the last hours of his ride had changed his mind. Besides, he figured he was only an hour away from Seattle.
Anyway, he’d found a willing body who also saved him from having to find a hotel room that late. Or early.
Fuck, what was her name? Tandy? Tracy? Shit, he couldn’t remember. All he had was an image of long blonde hair and a leather halter top.
“Are you a tomato soup guy?” called the woman. Not a playful or fun voice, but growly and a little rough around the edges.
His tequila-hangover brain chugged slowly, trying to put a name to the voice. Tamara, maybe?
His phone rang, a relief from trying to remember someone who wouldn’t matter once he was gone.
He found his jeans on the floor and dug into his pocket. He found the small, metal shape on his keychain first and gave it a reassuring squeeze before pulling his phone out. Stone’s number appeared over his screen pic of his Stellican Indian motorcycle. He smiled, both at the photo and at his friend.
“Yeah, buddy,” he mumbled, pulling his pants on and tucking the talisman back into the pocket. He looked around for his shirt, the phone squeezed against his shoulder.
“You sound rough,” Stone commented. “Are you in Seattle?”
Ryder thought back to the last night. He’d ended up in a bar near something that looked like a mini Washington, DC.
“What’s the state capital here?” he asked.
“Olympia,” Stone replied.
“That’s where I am. Big dome with pillars?”
“That’s the one,” Stone said with a laugh.
A pot clanked from outside the room.
“Almost ready,” growled the woman’s voice.
“Your deposit should have hit your account this morning,” Stone said as Ryder kept looking for the rest of his clothes.
One of his black socks was woven through a pair of red panties. Petite, lacy panties.
Tally. Her name was Tally.
“You didn’t have to call for that. I know you’re good for it,” Ryder said, grabbing his sock and shaking the scrap of red off it.
“Where are you staying?” Stone asked. “I’ll have someone drop off your credentials.”
