Losing Me, Finding You (2 page)

“Godless people,” she says, and I don't correct her. There's no point. Some guy with a pentagram tattoo just walked by and much as I know that could mean anything, my mom thinks it's the sign of the Antichrist. “Do you have your pepper spray in your purse?” I took it out to accommodate Daniel, but I nod and tell her that yes, I do.
I need an e-reader,
I think as I imagine carrying thousands of books around in my hand. My father refuses to buy one for me, saying that digital devices like that are portals to hell in and of themselves. He let me have a computer, but he unplugs the Wi-Fi at night.
I should really move out.
“Go straight inside and don't talk to anyone.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“And please don't let Jodie try on anything that you know isn't going to fit. You know how moody she's been lately.”

“Okay, Mom.”

My mother pulls up to the curb and lets me out into the throng of people. I can see that she doesn't want to leave me there, but that she's more afraid of Jodie's wrath than she is of the motorcycle fanatics. I'd have to agree with that one. I start towards the front door of the bridal shop and then just stop. My mom isn't looking; Jodie doesn't know I'm here yet. Now's my chance to look around, just take a peek at the motorcycles. It won't take long; after all there's a whole row of them parked at the end of this block, just behind the red signs and yellow tape banning cars from this stretch of road. I glance over my shoulder to make sure that Mom's completed her U-turn and start down the sidewalk.

It's pretty obvious that I don't fit in here which is a strange feeling. I'm your typical, middle-class, all-American white girl with blue eyes and pale brown hair, but I'm the one that's drawing stares and raised eyebrows. Something about that is exciting to me, makes me hold my head high and strut like I'm something special. Instead of blending into the crowd, I'm standing out.
Fantastic.

I pause next to a big, blue bike with metal that shimmers like the lake in summer, reflects the early afternoon sunshine into my face and makes me squint. I bend down to read the sign.

“You like Road Kings, beautiful?” a voice says from behind me, and I spin around to find a man standing far too close to my behind.
My ass,
I correct myself.
You're an adult; you can say it.

“Um.” My eyes are looking directly at a black T-shirt stretched over a wide chest, and I have to tilt my chin up to find the face of the man with the most amazing body ever. Oh. My. God.
He looks just like my book boyfriend!
“I, uh, it's pretty,” I say which makes Mr. Motorcycle laugh.

“Pretty?” he says with some sort of Southern accent that I can't place. “I've never heard 'em described like that, but I guess you're right. She's one, hot fucking bitch.”

“E-excuse me?” I say, floored by this man's language, and his fall of sandy blonde hair, his dark brown eyes that are even now sweeping my body like
I'm
one of the bikes for sale. He licks his lips and steps even closer to me. “S-she?” Mr. Motorcycle laughs again and I jump. I can't help myself. I've never been so close to a man, let alone one with a sleeve of tattoos and muscles that are slick and moist from the hot sun overhead.

“Can't very well be a
he,
right? The only thing I'm willing to ride cross country is a
she.”
He winks at me, but I can't respond, not with him standing so close to me. My throat has just closed up and my mouth is dry.

“Um, okay,” I say and my voice comes out in a whisper. The man, who has the most beautifully chiseled face I have ever seen, reaches out and brushes his fingers across my arm, making me shiver.

“If you like this baby, I could show you mine,” he says and I have to blink several times before I can respond.

“Yours?”

“My ride, beautiful. You want to come see?”

“I … ” I see my mom come around the corner at the end of the block and reflexively reach out my hand for Mr. Motorcycle's massive bicep. My fingers curl around his hard flesh and my whole body goes up in flames.
Oh.
My romance novels suddenly make a whole lot more sense. My skin feels hot and flushed, like it could conduct electricity. I look up into his face and see that he's looking at me like he's the predator and I'm the prey. “I … I have to go,” I say as I step around him and start back down the block at an even quicker pace than I came.

“Hold up there,” says the man with the dark eyes and the skulls on his upper arm. He grabs my wrist and spins me around. “You in town for the show?” he asks, as I clutch my purse against my chest and try not to pass out. It's awfully hot out here, and my pulse is thumping in my neck like a live thing.

“I live here,” I whisper and he releases me with a wicked, nasty smile that gives me all sorts of strange feelings in my gut. “Why?”

“Well,” he says with a glance over my shoulder. “I thought you might want to grab a drink or something?”

“Um.” I steal a glance down the block and see that while my mom is gone, my aunt is staring at me like I'm possessed. Uh oh. “I have to go.” I start to turn away, but he reaches out and grabs me by the arm, firm but not rough. I shiver.

“Come on, beautiful,” he says. “Tell me your name.”

“Amy,” I say quietly, too quietly. “Amy Cross.”

“Austin,” he says, and that's it. “Now, Amy, I'm not letting you go until you promise to meet me back here tonight for a drink.” I look into this man's dark eyes and feel like I'm falling and burning up at the same time.
Two beautiful, beautiful ways to die.

My aunt is coming towards us now, and I can see that she's digging around in her purse. She's probably got her pepper spray in hand. Or a cross. I have to get out of here.

“I … ” Austin does not look like the kind of man that likes to hear the word
no.
“Okay,” I say and he releases me with a smile.

“Yeah? Alright, maybe six?” I nod, just to get away from him, never intending on holding up my end of this one-sided bargain. “See you then, pretty girl.”

I turn away and run all the way back to the bridal shop.

“Who the hell was that?” Mireya asks me as she wraps her long fingers around my bicep and breathes her hot breath against my skin. I watch Amy's tight, little ass as she catches up to an old lady in a sun hat and starts to explain things with her hands. Why do girls like that always gesture so much? Beats the fuck out of me.

“Just some chick I asked out for drinks,” I tell Mireya as I spin to face her and grasp her under the chin. She's exotic, dark haired, and feisty. She's also into things that have the ability to surprise even me.

“If you fuck her, can I watch?” Mireya asks as she wraps her arms around my waist and rubs her breasts against my chest, making me hard as a rock in the middle of the damn street. Or maybe that's because I'm still thinking of little Miss Amy with her sharp as shit blue eyes and her rounded body, bent over that bike, ass up in the air like she was waiting for it. I smile.

“Sure,” I tell Mireya, taking hold of her hips and glaring at the guy down the block from us. He's checking out her ass, and it's pissing me off. What can I say? I'm a possessive motherfucker. “She might be a hard one to snag,” I say although I'm fucking with Mireya a little. I don't just want to snag Amy. I want to
own
her.

“Why's that?” Mireya asks as she stands on her toes and kisses my neck. She's got on this perfume that doesn't fail to excite me, not even after all these years. Mireya and I go way back. I think she'd marry me if either of us were into that, but I'm not exactly the marrying type.

“I'll bet you a hundred bucks that she's a virgin,” I say to her as I run my fingers through her dark hair and kiss her hard. She's got lips that could tame a cougar, that girl does. I pull away and grab Mireya by the hand. I might have a date with Amy tonight, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun with Mireya until then. “But I know you're not,” I say, and she smiles at me, sharp lips curving up wickedly in the corners.

“Not unless you want me to be,” she whispers, pulling my hand up to her hot mouth and biting my thumb gently. Mireya's dark eyes pull me in and wrap a web around me. She's off the chain fucking hot. No wonder she's always been my favorite little sugar. “If you're into innocent, little Southern girls, I've got a pair of cowboy boots I could wear for you.” She pauses. “With nothing else.” I grin and pull her forward, wrapping my arm around her waist.

“Sounds good to me, beautiful,” I say as she follows me obediently across the street and towards the doors to our hotel.

I can't say that I'm surprised when we're interrupted.

“You!” a voice shouts from down the street, and I turn to find the old lady in the yellow hat storming towards me, purse in one hand, a black can in the other. Goddamn it. I've been around long enough to know a can of pepper spray when I see one. Amy is scurrying along behind the woman with one hand shielding her face from the street and the other tugging at the woman's pink jacket. I drop my arm from Mireya's waist suddenly, like I'm afraid it'll scare Amy off.
Shit, Austin, if the girl can't handle it, let her go.
I keep my arm at my side.

“Yeah?” I ask as Mireya sighs and lights up, moving away from the scene of the crime and towards a pack of shirtless dudes that are hovering a little too close to her bike. She doesn't like to get involved in my altercations. Not to say that there are a lot, but I have been known to start some trouble. “Something wrong, gingersnap?” I ask the lady as she removes her hat and reveals a head of scruffy, orange curls. I'd have pegged her as Amy's mama, but there's no way these two are that closely related. Amy has that long, soft hair that's perfect for pullin'. When I see her glance up at me with a pained expression, I just want to reach out and wrap it around my fist, tug her to me and take those sexy lips between my teeth until she cries my name.

“Excuse me!” the old lady snorts as she waves the black can in my face. I don't flinch. These old Southern broads are tough as leather, and I am in no way ready to take on a lady whose blood runs with the fire of the sun and the earth, no ma'am. “But you need to keep your hands to yourself. If I see you touching my niece again, I might feel the need to call the sheriff and give him a piece of my mind. It's bad enough that we have to put up with your people year after year, but that doesn't give you the right to harass my family!” I take a deep breath and try to control my anger. If Old Lady Gingersnap had been a man, I'd have decked her. As things stand, she's a pretty old thing with firecracker eyes and a sharp tongue. A little respect can go a long way, provided it's applied in all the right places.

“You're right,” I say to her, although my eyes are all for Amy. I don't think she knows how hot she looks in that little sweater. If it were up to me, I'd tear it right off her shoulders, slam her against this wall and show her a real good time. Amy looks like she's in need of some fun. Her neck is stiff and her eyes dart every which way, so she doesn't have to look at me. She isn't scared. Oh no, not this little lovely. She's excited. I can practically smell her excitement, her curiosity. This is a girl that's been dying to get out for awhile, and it's just a matter of time until she snaps. Maybe I could help her along a little? “I had no right to touch Miss Amy here. If you'll accept my deepest apologies.” I reach out and grab Old Lady Gingersnap's hand, pressing it to my lips for a kiss. She blushes, but she doesn't spray me with her can which is a whole other sort of euphoric. There is nothing worse than getting sprayed in the face with that shit. “I'd like to make it up to poor Miss Amy by taking her out tonight.”

“I already gave you my answer,” Amy hisses as she drops her hand and takes a deep breath like she's preparing for trouble. Her blue eyes finally lock onto my face and hold my gaze without flinching. There's a whole lot more to sweet, little Amy than first meets the eye. She's telling me yes, but she's telling her auntie no. Smart girl. I'm not usually the type of guy that aunties approve of. They want to fuck me, maybe, but they don't approve. Nuh uh. “Come on, Megan,” she says to her aunt who has finally tucked her pepper spray away with a sigh. “Let's go before Jodie has a fit.” Amy starts to turn away, but she keeps her eyes on mine until the last possible second. When she finally tears them away, I have an almost physical reaction to chase after her. How fucking strange is that?

“First time I've seen you beat down by an old lady,” Mireya says as she returns as quickly as she left. I wouldn't say she's the jealous type, but maybe she can tell that I like Amy. A lot. And I have no clue why.

“Well,” I say as I pop a cigarette into my mouth and take Mireya into my arms. “You've never been up against an Old Gingersnap like that. You're from up North, so you have no idea what these Southern ladies are like.”

“Oh?” she asks as she leans in and kisses my neck. “And you don't think I'm a tough bitch? Why don't you let me prove it to you?” I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her head back, so I can get a good look at her. Oh yeah. Mireya is hot, no doubt about it. Why the fuck then, am I thinking about Amy Cross when I start to kiss her?