Her Rock (Rocky Start)

“So how’s work?” I ask Georgie. She’s been working at a high-end steakhouse in the heart of downtown making bank as a waitress, but she comes home looking tired.

“Shitty as always. Being a server pays well in tips, but damn, my feet are killing me.”

“Are you planning to quit soon?”

“Shit, I might be fired for calling off. I’m supposed to work this weekend.” Yes, that place is swamped all week long.

“Girl, I’m off on the weekends, which is cool, but I’m not making a killing doing basic, entry-level clerical work with the temp agency.” I was at a place for three weeks, and the budget ran out so I was let go. It’s really freaking frustrating, and then I started at a new place last week. It’s okay, but it’s not something I want to do forever.

“I’m just going to keep working on becoming a bestselling author and then one day have Darcy on my covers.” My sisters are beautiful and I’m not too shabby either, so they would both look great gracing a cover or two. Sister discount, of course.

“Now that would be awesome,” Georgie adds, taking a drink of her bottled water.

“Straight up.”

“How is the book coming?” There’s the million-dollar question that gets most authors nervous, but she knows how hard I’ve been working.

“Girl, I’ve written an entire series, but all that’s missing is the sexy times.” One thing I know absolutely nothing about. It’s not that a girl doesn’t read up on that material. Hell, it’s pretty basic: stick Tab A into Slot B repeatedly while twisting Point C and D. Okay so it’s a little more than that, but somehow writing it down is a lot harder.

“Well, perhaps you can get some inspiration from Sheriff Growly Pants.”

“I just might.” My face heats up as I giggle. I duck my head and close my eyes because that thought has probably crossed my mind about twenty times on the flight.

We land in Denver and Georgie’s just old enough to rent a car, but the rates are so ridiculous. It’s freaking nuts that we have to be older or pay a fee, so we decide to take a bus to Lakeland. It’ll be faster, and apparently it leaves in fifteen minutes. Making a mad dash, we arrive at the station and hop in.

There are a bunch of weirdos on here, so we keep to ourselves and hide in the back. We’ve watched too many crime shows to underestimate strangers. And right on freaking cue, two creepers in the middle of the bus keep leering at us. I want to snap off and teach them what happens when you fuck with a girl from Chicago, but Georgie pushes me back into my seat.

“I’m just going to give them a piece of my mind,” I remark sweetly, but she knows me too well.

“Girl, think. We can’t get kicked off the bus since we don’t know where we are, and we sure as hell don’t want to lose any more time.”

I huff, itching to slap the shit out of the one guy. Luckily the bus is full so he can’t take a seat by us. Still, two minutes later as he passes us to head to the bathroom, he sneers and says, “I can show you a good time, girls.”

“The fact that you’re trying to pick up two teenagers, I doubt you could give yourself a good time. Fuck off, or maybe fuck your buddy there. FYI…I might shank you fuckers if you get your dick anywhere near me.”

“Frigid little bitch.”

“Hardly. I just have standards.”

“Holding out for a guy with money? I’ve got a hundred for you to open your legs.”

“No. Class, manners, tact, decency—all of which you seem to lack. And balls, if you don’t move away.” I hold my four-inch blade I bought for protection against his junk, pressing a little into his jeans.

“Damn, sorry.” He throws his arms up, backs away, and goes straight to his seat. I guess he didn’t have to piss anymore.

“You are fucking nuts, and I love you.”

“Georgie, I refuse to be anyone’s victim.”

“I just want to know how you got that on the plane.”

“It’s not illegal. The blade is small enough. Besides, it wasn’t in my carry-on.”

“Smart. Brilliant.”

“You know me.” I shrug and tuck my knife in my thin hoodie pocket. I love this sweater. It’s just enough that I don’t sweat and keeps the chill off while having deep enough pockets that my knife won’t fall out.

Georgie gives me a sympathetic look before wrapping me up in a hug. She’s clearly remembering how close I came to being assaulted at a friend’s party. It was three years ago, and I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

I’d been celebrating the birthday of my bestie at the time. She’d just turned sixteen, and it was a big pool party. I’d been swimming when I noticed that I caught the attention of more than just the guys in my class. I’ll never forget the uncle’s face as he stared at me from across the room, waiting for me to finish my drink. The first sip tasted funny. I wondered if I grabbed the wrong cup, but I’d written my name on it.