Wanderlust

Was that relief? Oh Jesus, it was. I was as crazy as he was.

“I just thought…you might…”

His voice lowered. “Sunshine, if you’re trying to look less appealing to me, it’s not working.”

My heart thumped in response, and I felt my eyes widen. “But the people inside. They’ll see.”

“They’ll see that you’re mine and if they’re smart, they won’t lay a finger on you.”

I had been up-close-and-personal with this man’s cajones and not even realized how huge they must be. He had no fear, none. He was going to walk into a non-empty place of business during the day with a captive in tow. And judging by the disturbingly self-aware smile that played at the corner of his lips, he wouldn’t even break a sweat doing so.

It was strangely attractive. My own lips pursed in restraint, but I wanted to smile too, without fully understanding the humor. We could laugh at the people we would see, blind to the egregious crime happening in front of them, or maybe we’d chuckle at his chutzpah. But I feared that the joke was really on me. Stupid, naïve girl who’s too afraid to cry for help in a public place. I’d show him. Hopefully.

This diner was similar in feel to the last one, both grungy and aging poorly, but this one had at least tried to be homey once. Cherry wood paneling lined the walls and formed booths over brick-colored linoleum. Fake ivy along the walls was coated in thick layers of dust. A young black waitress poured coffee at a table where three men sat.

We walked inside hand-in-hand, so I knew that his hands weren’t sweating. Mine were, though, and clammy, trembling, as if I were the one doing something wrong instead of him. Hunter didn’t wait for the waitress to look up. He just tugged me over to a booth.

He gestured me inside in what could have been mistaken for a courtly gesture. I scooted in and he sat beside me, hemming me in. As the waitress walked over to us, he pushed up my skirt, slipped his hand over my thigh, and slid his fingers into the crevice between my legs. I tensed.

If the waitress noticed, she didn’t show it. After a quick glance at Hunter’s face then mine, she turned to her notepad. “Can I take your order?”

“We’ll have steak and eggs. Medium rare. Two over easy. I’ll have a Coke.”

He turned to me. “What do you want to drink?”

“I…I…” My lips were numb, tongue tied in knots. I could barely function on my own but now there was pressure. What if I messed up, and this girl got in trouble? She was about my age. What if he took her too? Of course, all these thoughts swirling around were making me mess up, and I sat there with my mouth open like an idiot, until she looked up from her pad.

“Orange juice,” I said weakly.

After she left, I glanced over at the men, but they were engrossed in their meals. Hunter’s thumb brushed over my skin—back and forth, and it sparked something very near there. I felt my skin almost ripple beneath his, as if it could urge him closer to that heat.

Abruptly, he stood and slid into the seat opposite me.

“There,” he said. “Now we can talk.”

The air beside me felt uncommonly cool, my thigh bare. I missed his presence, I realized with dismay. He sent me a vague smile that said he knew exactly what I felt.

“Prison,” he said succinctly. “That’s what I did before I started trucking.”

My lips parted in shock. I mean, sure, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it was.

He grinned briefly, running his finger along a crack in the table. Then his expression turned serious…troubled. “Predictable, really. The ex-con driving a semi, preying on innocent young women. I’m a stereotype.”

I frowned, perpetually unnerved by his penchant for plain-speaking. It would have been easier to take if he had sex with me in a moment of lust-madness, then walked away with the forgetfulness of the

unkind. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing with me, and though sometimes it seemed to bother him, he had no plans to stop. He wasn’t lacking in morals, he was willfully going against his morals just to have me, which was terrifying but also sent a small thrill down my spine.

“I suppose you’ll be even more scared of me now.”

I was quiet a moment. “That depends. What were you in prison for?”

Surprise flashed in his eyes at my boldness, and good, it was time I returned the favor.

“What do you think?” he asked softly. “It’s not so hard to figure out.”

My throat seemed to swell, and thickly, I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Come now.” His voice was faintly mocking, but who—who was the target? The answer was made clear with his next words. “I know sometimes I come across the perfect gentleman, but surely you can think of something I might do wrong, something cruel and vicious and inhumane? Say the words, sunshine.”