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“Best fucking feeling.” He leans back against the boulder and pulls me between his legs.
This is awkward.
Malice urges me to lean against his chest. My back stiffens, and I wiggle forward to put some distance between us.
“Sorry, just figured you’d be more comfortable against me than that damn rock,” he explains.
That makes sense, but the man is giving me mental whiplash. He goes from hot to cold and back again, leaving me unable to keep up with his constant mood swings.
Doesn’t matter, you like him.
“Okay.” I hesitate but then slowly lean back.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“You already know what I do for a living.”
“What about your family?” he pushes. “Where are you from?”
Leaning forward, I remove my jacket. Even with the boulder for shade, it’s hot as hell out here. After settling back against him, I allow myself to relax. Malice is still being gruff and expecting answers about me, but for some reason, this line of questioning feels different. It’s weird.
But then again, the whole morning has been weird. First, he brings me coffee and semi flirts with me, then he gets annoyed when I talk to Grim. Then he takes me for an incredible ride on his motorcycle, and now he’s letting me use him like a human pillow. He’s even acting like he wants to be close to me.
All I was hoping for was to get to know each other better so I might find out why he and Mark hate each other so much.
Liar! You also want to climb him like a tree.
“I was born and raised in Wisconsin. I lived in a typical middle-class home with both parents, and I’m an only child.”
“How’d your parents feel about you being out on the road?” His fingers caress my arms, and my skin tingles.
“They weren’t happy at first, but what parent would be when their eighteen-year- old takes off a week after they graduate?” I cringe remembering the day I left. “As if that weren’t enough, they knew I would be traveling alone, all over the U.S, trying to make it big in the music industry.”
“Where’d you meet Mark?” he asks.
“Indiana. It was my last night at the bar I was singing at.” I turn my head to face him. “And before you ask how or why he was there, that’s his story to tell, not mine.”
Malice puts his hands up in surrender. “Noted.”
I whirl back around and begin to tell him about how I started singing in elementary school and the talent shows I performed in. I also tell him about getting a fake ID so I could perform in the bigger bars outside my hometown when I was seventeen.
“You’re quite the rebel,” he says with a chuckle. “Tell me about Stella. How’d you get her?”
“My parents were looking for a reliable car for me,” I begin. “We went from dealership to dealership, but everything was just too expensive for a sixteen-year-old. My dad picked me up from voice lessons one day, and on the way home we had to take a detour because of a water main break flooding the road. We turned into a neighborhood to take a shortcut, and that’s when I saw her.”
“Stella?”
“Yep.” I nod. “There she was, sitting in a yard with a for sale sign in the window. I begged my dad to pull over.” I smile at the memory. “He kept insisting we’d never be able to afford it because it looked brand new, but I knew I just had to ask, you know?” Malice’s chin bumps my head when he nods. “I knocked on the door of the house, and a sweet man old enough to be my grandpa answered, and I asked him how much she was.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer me right away, so I started to leave, but he stopped me. He asked me what I would do with the VW if he sold it to me.”
“And?”
“Told him the truth.” I shrug. “Said I wanted to be a singer and travel the U.S. until I made it big. And that I would treasure her forever and even had her name picked out.”
“Did he ask what name you picked?”
