Cody
“What was your most embarrassing moment?” Jamison asked as I depressed the gas pedal and sped through a flashing yellow light. Driving her car was even sexier than I imagined. You could feel the rush of the asphalt beneath the tires, the way it held the road, the way it gripped each turn. Curling my fingers around the leather of the steering wheel ignited a synergy, the car’s speed and its power became a part of me. It was easy to understand why Jamison felt connected to it. It got your blood pumping and adrenaline surging. It made you feel alive.
We’d been driving for about thirty minutes, and after a short stint on a highway, we were traversing back roads mostly. Outside of the semicircle of glow created by the headlights, it was dark, but the roads were still paved so I was guessing it wasn’t as country as Conway, my hometown. Jamison’s first few questions were pretty innocuous. What was my favorite color? Green. What food made my mouth happy? Marionberry cheesecake. How old was I when I lost my virginity? Seventeen. That tidbit surprised her. She laughed and smiled, her face all glowy in the red dashboard lights. She expected me to have been younger when I gave up my V-card, and the truth spun her off on a whole tangent of follow-up questions. Truth was, since my mom died, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I already had enough people to love who I could lose at any minute, but I didn’t tell her all that. I just said girlfriends were never my thing. When you’re a teenager, not that many girls are looking for one-night stands.
After unearthing a real tawdry detail, the depth of her questions amped up. She asked me things like, do you want kids? Yes, someday far, far away, when people think I’m too old to have them. Then, what are your personal goals? Ranching, ranching, and more ranching. I talked about how I loved the work. I vaguely mentioned my brothers, how we all loved the ranch and a day’s hard work, but for me, ranching and horses were an actual passion like my brother Luke’s art. And now, this doozy, what was my most embarrassing moment?
“I have three older brothers,” I said. “There are a lot of embarrassing moments.”
“For someone who doesn’t want to discuss their family, you sure mention them a lot. Also, not for nothing, but I’m pretty sure that answer is you avoiding the question.”
“I am not. I have been pantsed at a Christmas recital, caught masturbating, walked in on other people masturbating, had my naked baby pictures projected on the big screen, had my clothes taken from my gym locker and replaced with short shorts. I think you underestimate the trials of a big family. Embarrassment is par for the course.”
She laughed. “Touché. I know nothing about family.”
“Do you have siblings?” I asked.
“Nope.” She popped the p in nope hard, turned away from me to look out the window, and then gently said, “It’s just me.”
I had a sister. I knew what it sounded like when sadness was hiding in a woman’s words. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be an only,” I said. “But I wouldn’t trade my siblings. I love them.”
“Again, with those lizard people. You are obsessed.” Note to self: Jamison used humor as a defense mechanism.
I couldn’t let it slide. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m thinking your family life isn’t something you enjoy. Is that right?”
She shrugged. “I have parents, they're busy. They're important people with places to be and people to see.” Her tone was snide. “Their daughter is an afterthought, a pretty blond accessory.”
That was awful. I didn’t really know what to say. “That’s fucked.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
And then, because I wanted her to know that I saw her, to get that I knew how hard it was to feel lonely, I told her the one thing I was trying to hide. “I didn’t want to talk about my family because my mother died when I was eight.”
Jamison didn’t say anything for a beat. The only sound was the rush of her car as I propelled us down the country road. After a deep sigh, she said, “That’s fucked.”
I laughed. “Totally.”
* * *
Gravel crunched under the tires.Where the hell was this girl taking me? On my right, we passed a parking lot, and then we pulled up to what looked like a ticketing office and a clearly padlocked fence.
I slowed the Porsche to a roll and leaned forward to peer up and out of the windshield at a totally closed establishment. “Two questions. One, what is this place? And two, what are you planning? Because I’m one hundred percent certain you are not surprised that this joint is locked up tight.”
With a straight face, she said, “It is my experience that I have the power to determine a business’ operating hours.”
“That so?” I snickered.
“Absolutely.” She pointed toward the curb. “You can park there.”
As soon as I stopped the car, she threw open her door and swung those long legs so that her feet were on the pavement. Then she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and even from behind her, I could see the gears spinning in her head. She was planning her assault.
“You never answered my first question,” I said.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. Man, she was so pretty. Even when she was being wicked, she looked soft and sweet like her skin was made of freaking rose petals.
“I’ve got a plan,” she said. “Pop the trunk.”
She jumped up and shut the door behind her, crossing in front of the car. With my left hand, I searched and quickly identified and hit the right button. The trunk popped and she leaned over to finagle the latch, giving me a luscious view of her cleavage.
“I know you’re looking,” she teased.
“I’m not a saint.”
“Thank Goddess!” she exclaimed as she threw open the trunk lid. It was only open for a second before she slammed it closed and stood before me, bolt cutter in hand.
I laughed as I got out of the car. “This is your big plan?”
She shrugged. “I’m in short shorts.” She started walking toward the padlocked gate and I followed. “Climbing that fence does not look fun. Also, too much risk. We’re on an adventure, no need for a trip to the ER and a tetanus shot.”
“And you just happen to keep a bolt cutter in the trunk of your Porsche.”
“We’re in Texas.”
“Where in Texas are we?”
She stopped abruptly, turned, used her free hand to grab my shirt, and pulled me toward her until we were kissing. It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a driven kiss, hungry and wet. Instantly, my joystick was powered up and ready to play. Releasing her grip on my shirt, she said, “Did anyone ever tell you that you're terrible at surprises?”
“Fine,” I grumped.
“We forgot the Jameson,” she said, shifting to go back to the car.
I didn’t let her go. Instead, I kissed her again, backing her up until her ass was pressed against the interlocking wire of the fence. Behind her, it rattled as I slammed my hips against hers. I couldn’t stop myself. There was something about the feeling of her mouth on mine that made me a madman.
She broke away, panting. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna drop a bolt cutter on one of our feet.”
I growled. I wasn’t sure I cared what was behind that fence. I already had my hands on all the adventure I needed. But she had a plan, and I thought myself a gentleman, so I snatched the bolt cutter from her and headed for the padlock.
* * *