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A second later, my passenger door opened and the kid slid inside, slamming it shut.
“Here’s her employee contact info. I could seriously get fired if they find out what I did.” He rushed the words out through cracked lips, his big eyes darting around. I was parked far enough away not to cause concern, and my rig had fully tinted windows.
“Understood.” I handed over the envelope of cash while he extended the piece of paper.
I scanned the contents. “This is up to date?”
The kid shrugged his shoulders. “She just started working here like a month ago, so I’m pretty sure it is.”
I nodded as he opened the envelope and thumbed through the cash there.
“You’d really pay a grand just to get some chick’s address?” he asked, his tone curious, almost doubtful.
“She’s not just some girl…so, yeah. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.” I put the car into reverse, not clarifying that I was only half serious. The kid laughed, shaking his head back and forth while exiting the car.
It was time I paid Ms. Bexley Black a visit.
* * *
The resort wasa solid twenty minutes from where Bexley lived. The town was smaller in size than most in the area, but that didn’t detract from the fact that it was a popular tourist spot.
I drove west, cresting the hill, fields expanding on each side of the highway while green pastureland lay below a massive snowcapped mountain. Memories slammed into me of times I’d driven this same road while I was in high school or coming home from the rodeo. One time in particular was right before I was headed to college.
I had wondered if I would meet someone at school, and it was this small slice of curiosity that bled into the overwhelming thoughts of football that always consumed me. Heading to Seattle, I knew I wanted to go pro. It was my only focus, my only hope…until I met Bexley.
She was unexpected to say the least. We started seeing each other, agreeing it was just a casual thing, but one night she was at the campus cafe with another guy, that sugar-blonde hair swaying against her back as she danced. The guy attached to her gripped her by the hips, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear. It was when those red lips of hers slung to the side in a secretive smile that I knew I didn’t stand a chance. That night, I finally knew what all those country songs were singing about. I knew what it was like to feel as though someone had cracked open my chest and held my heart for ransom.
I remembered the moment her eyes connected with mine. She waited a second, still dancing…reading my expression, then she left her date, walked over to me, and wrapped her arms around me. Her whispered words still stuck with me all these years later.
“If you want this, want us…then take me out of here. There’s no halfway with me,Ryan Prince. If you say you’re mine, you won’t ever belong to anyone else.”
When she let me go and waited for my response, I slammed my lips to hers, not just to confirm that yes, I wanted her, but to prove to every guy in that room that Bexley Black was mine.
The slowing traffic brought me out of my thoughts and back to the present. My foot alternated between the gas and the brake so much that I nearly parked my rig and walked the rest of the way, until finally, my GPS said I needed to turn toward a side street.
Veering away from the town, I drove down a few roads, passing coffee shops, the local school—all red brick and dark green signage—and the cowboy-style restaurants and gift shops until a small suburban neighborhood came into view. I put on my blinker, turning into the subdivision, crawling along as my navigation system directed me to Bexley’s house.
Two minutes later, I was parked in front of a pale yellow house. It wasn’t huge, a modest two-story with a pitched roof that looked fresh and new. The downstairs had wide windows with white shutters, and a deep porch where a massive bench-style swing hung. A small green yard was fenced with a small white picket barrier, bridging the gap between the curb and her front porch.
I sat there watching the white door to see if Bexley would emerge, my stomach churning with jealousy that this was her life. This small glimpse of domestication was enough to have me driving away and never looking back…but for whatever reason, I couldn’t put the car into gear. I was frozen, just watching and waiting…needing to see her.
A moment later, the door swung open, and a kid, maybe seven or eight, trudged out. He had dark hair, cropped short, and he was lanky too, wearing a pair of shorts and a striped t-shirt. A black helmet rested in his hands while he unhooked it and arranged it on his head.
This must have been the kid that had called her the first night I saw her. He walked to the side of the house and pulled out his bike. I shifted forward, watching where he’d go. He seemed too young to be riding all by himself, but what the hell did I know about kids?
He took off down the street, his red and black bike gleaming under the bright sun. It was already after lunch time, so that hazy, sweltering kind of heat was thick in the air and baking the street.
My eyes darted between the front door of Bexley’s house and trailing after the kid as he zoomed down the street.
I scanned the street for any oncoming traffic, and I saw a pair of brake lights a few driveways down, nestled in between two houses. A black truck was reversing…I waited for him to stop, to acknowledge the kid speeding toward him, but he didn’t slow.
Shit.
I shoved the gear of my SUV into drive and floored it, heading toward the driveway to hopefully get the driver to keep his rig in the spot until this kid noticed it was moving. Still not seeing that Bexley’s son noticed the reversing car, I laid on my horn.
It all happened too fast. There was a crunch and I was shoving the car into park in the middle of the street, running toward the kid who was lying on the ground.
“Oh my god!” the guy driving the truck yelled as he exited his vehicle.
