Rocky Start (A Rocky Start)

“Yeah, sure. I’m supposed to believe that? Have a good day,” the woman on the other end says, hanging up on me.

“Okay. I’ve got to go find your daddy and stick my foot up his ass. You stay here and be a good doggy.” I rub Bennett’s dog’s head before jumping out of my chair and packing an overnight bag. I’ve been babysitting his pooch because Bennett’s staying in the wilderness where there are too many wild animals.

I want to be pissed, but I’m guessing that since I’m not the first on this story that their office has been flooded with probably more calls than they’re accustomed to getting. It’s a fairly small town an hour or so outside of Denver, and Bennett’s cabin is even farther away from the town, up the mountains all alone.

“The trip to Lakeland, Colorado is going to be a fun one,” I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes as I hop into my Range Rover. I don’t have time to wait for a taxi, so I rush to the damn airport in the early morning hours, parking in their lot.

I try Bennett again, but he still hasn’t answered his phone, which concerns me. I’d be his one phone call if he was arrested, so I’m betting that isn’t the case at all, so what is going on?

The flight to Denver takes longer than I hoped, but at least my rental is waiting for me at the damn place just inside the airport. It’s another Range Rover because that’s what I prefer to drive, especially given the terrain.

As I hop in, I see the most enchanting creature storming away with a determined look on her face as she heads onto a Greyhound bus with another woman. I stare at her long red and brown hair, wanting to reach out and wrap my fist around it, dragging her to me. She’s got sharp eyebrows, and she’s scowling at those around her, sending up a silent warning to all the men around, although those soft lips of hers are worried.

As a publicist, I’ve learned to read people from their slightest expressions, and I want to know every single one of hers. I can’t explain this need to meet her when I’ve only gotten a fleeting glimpse, but my gut is telling me that she’s special.

She’s already gone from my sight as more passengers load on the bus behind them. I pull my vehicle to the side to get a look at the sign and see it’s heading north toward Lakeland. “Fuck, yeah.” It’s perfect. There shouldn’t be too many stops from here to there.

I should be rushing straight to Bennett, but fuck him. It’s his fault if I’m a little late because he should have answered his fucking phone instead of ghosting me like this shit going down isn’t fucking catastrophic to his career.

I follow the bus briefly on the highway, thinking about what I’m going to say to her when we finally meet. “Hi! My name is Sean, and I’ve been stalking you since you got on the bus. I want to know everything about you including how you feel wrapped around my cock as you’re coming.” Shaking my head, I let out a harsh breath. I’ve officially lost my mind. Yeah, that’s not going to go over well, so I have to work on it.

The traffic is making good time and I stay up the bus’s ass until I get a state trooper on my tail, so I ease up and lose the bus when it gets off on the next exit. The damn bastard must have seen me watching, or someone might have noticed me following too closely. Fuck. I think quickly. I have their bus number and its final stop, so I take it down and I’ll have my buddy run the manifest. I have to know who she is, and I will. Nothing will stop me, including finding all the damn flight manifests that came into the airport around the same time as I did.

As soon as the cop gets off my ass, I pull off on that exit, hoping to find my future wife and the bus. Three minutes of taking a straight path, and I still don’t see any bus or my woman. Shit. My woman? I don’t know who she is or even if she has a boyfriend, but she’s mine. No boyfriend in their right mind would allow that beauty to take a bus anywhere, especially without someone to protect her. That’s something I’m going to handle the second we get our relationship situation straightened out.

The little one next to her is probably rowdy as fuck, but not tougher than most men with sick intentions. I learned long ago that short women have a low tolerance for shit. It’s entertaining as long as you’re not on the opposite end of their ire. I’m usually good at not ticking women off in general, but I’m good at my job, which makes women angry because they can’t talk their way into my bed.