Текст книги "Throttled"
Автор книги: Elizabeth Lee
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Throttled
Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Lee
ISBN: 978-0-9912656-7-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
PIRACY IS A CRIME.
Please do not make me have to hire actual pirates to hunt you down for stealing my book. #imthecaptainnow
“One of those books that will have you both smiling and holding your breath. Fantastic read!” – #1NYT Bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken
“A realistic small town backdrop to an unforgettable second chance romance. I couldn’t put it down.” – K.A. Linde, USA Today bestselling author of the Avoiding Series
“Fabulous second chance romance with all the feels!” – Amy @ Once Upon a Book Blog
“This emotionally charged second-chance love story is all kinds of tangled, but the untangling is the fun part. And then it leaves us wanting so much more of these characters when the last page has been turned!” – Mickey @ I’m A Book Shark
For Jennifer,
Thank you for being a friend.
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Interlude by Anna Cruise
Acknowledgments
The first time I saw her I knew that I was going to enjoy our time together. Why wouldn’t I? She was made just for me. I’d been waiting for a moment like this. For a moment when I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The nervousness coursing through my veins was matched only by the thrill of feeling her under my body. I’d longed for this. Ached to put my hands on her. To turn her on and learn what made her tick. What made her bend to my will. I needed to control her more than I needed to take my next breath. My heart raced as I approached.
Why am I so nervous?
I was usually calm in these situations. I was Reid Travers, damn it. I was a professional. The tremble in my hand—the one that I quickly shook off—warned that I was entering some unknown territory. How could something so pretty—so wanted—make me feel this way? Maybe it was the fact that as I approached I could see my future unfolding. The future I’d asked for. Sacrificed everything for. The action-packed, everything-you’ve-ever-wanted, thrill ride that I’d always dreamed of.
With her.
I circled her slowly and reached my hand out to touch her. The charge that had been building between us released in a single spark as I first made contact. As I ran my hand over her sleek curves, I was practically salivating. The moment I straddled her, my muscles began to tense. As I settled into position, I took a deep breath and felt my lips curl into a wicked grin.
She was so responsive. So ready. My body gripped hers and she gripped mine right back. Like I said, she was made for me and I was damn sure built for her. She took all six-foot-three inches, two-hundred pounds of me with ease.
“So what do you think?” The voice of the man responsible for delivering my new favorite thing in the entire world asked, pulling me out of my intoxicated state and reminding me that we were not alone.
“She’s perfect,” I replied without looking up. Adrenaline had replaced anxiety and I was more than ready to give her a go. I could have sat there for hours and explained to him why, but what I really wanted to do was see if she ran as good as she looked. “Fucking perfect.”
“The bike was built to your exact specifications, but everything is adjustable. Suspension, brakes, throttle. I’m sure your mechanic will be able to tweak it all to your liking.”
“I’m sure she’s just fine,” I assured him.
He was crazy if he thought I was going to let anyone but me handle her. I’d be making the adjustments. If she even needed any. From where I was sitting she was exactly what I’d asked for, tight and loose in all the right places. Though I wouldn’t know for sure until I did what I did best. I moved into position and within seconds she roared to life.
It was time to ride.
“Where in the fuck are we going? I’m pretty sure we’ve already passed Timbuktu and that was the turn for BFE,” Brett Sallinger practically growled through the phone line.
“We’ll be there in a few,” I laughed before hanging up on him.
Looking into my side view mirror of the pick-up I was driving, pulling an enclosed trailer with our precious cargo, I could see him giving me a wide-eyed look of disbelief from the Ford Expedition he was following me in, pulling his airstream trailer loaded with all our belongings we knew we couldn’t live without for the next few months. I shook my head as we drove down the gravel roads that led back to the property I’d recently purchased. Following these roads that I’d driven so many times before, seeing the land unchanged after all these years, I let out a deep contented sigh. I rolled the window down and took a deep breath in, allowing the air to permeate my senses once again. A smell that I never noticed before now brought on a sense of peace I didn’t realize I was missing. His concern for our whereabouts was understandable. Since I was literally taking him into the middle of nowhere and all. But to me? It wasn’t the middle of nowhere at all. It was the middle of everything.
“It’s been a while, huh?” My brother, Hoyt, said from his seat riding shotgun. I could see the nostalgia on his face as we pulled to a stop on the flat piece of land.
“Yeah.” I stepped out of the truck and as soon as my feet hit the dirt, it hit me.
I was home. For the first time in seven years.
The property we were standing on had once belonged to my parents, and even though I had said I would eventually come back, I hadn’t known if it would ever be possible. When I left, my parents had sold the land I’d grown up on—the land I’d learned to ride on—to fund my racing career. It wasn’t even a career then. It was a whim and prayer that I could take my talent to the next level. Luckily, I had been able to. Which is exactly why I was back. I was going to give them back everything they’d sacrificed to support me. I was going to give them their dream home and finally erase the financial burden they’d carried with them to help me.
I stared out across the grass-covered land. One hundred acres. It was everything my parents had ever wanted. They had plans—literal blueprints prepared—to build their dream home right where I was standing.
“Where are the hills?” Brett’s skepticism about the Midwest was evident. “How in the hell did you learn to ride the way you do in a place this... flat?” He walked up next to where my brother and I were standing.
“There’s a track down there,” I informed him, pointing at the timber on the far side of the property. “Or, there to used to be.”
My brother, my dad, and I had spent many long days down there clearing trees and building a race track that rivaled some of the best tracks I’d ever rode on. Unfortunately, when I started getting attention for my racing, I really needed to be somewhere where I could practice year round. The Illinois winters were not conducive to a professional career. So my parents sold our house, this piece of land, and we moved to Texas where I trained and perfected my craft.
“Well let’s get the bikes out and go see,” Brett suggested.
I knew the eleven-hour drive in a vehicle with four wheels had killed him as much as it had killed me. We were two wheel guys. Dirt bikes, more specifically.
“Can we at least get situated before we go rip up the dirt?” Hoyt frowned at us. He was the planner, the think-things-through guy.
We were complete opposites. We may have looked alike—same brown hair, similar build, close in height—and we both loved to ride, but that was where the similarities ended. I was the die-hard and he was the recreational rider. At one point, I really thought Hoyt was going to make a serious run at racing, but he could never fully commit himself. He was just as talented as I was but he was over-thinking things when he should have just gone with his gut.
It worked out in the end though. I hadn’t suggested it yet, but Hoyt would make a fantastic riding coach. He saw things that others didn’t and I often looked to him for advice when I was on the track. In the meantime, he’d taken on the role as my manager and made sure I was always where I was supposed to be. He kept me in line and made sure I was taking time away from the track to do other things besides race. I would have ridden from sunup to sundown if he would let me.
“Fellas, hold up a sec. For real,” Hoyt broke in as Brett and I started unstrapping the bikes from inside the trailer I was pulling. I let down the gate of the trailer, continuing my mission while Hoyt continued his speech. “I need to call the realty office and get someone to bring the papers out. We don’t even officially own the land yet.”
“Relax, Hoyt,” I teased, giving him a pat on the back and stretched my arms out to signify the complete lack of anybody. “You see anyone around?”
“Seriously?” Hoyt always did have a hard time handling my sarcasm.
I was already rolling my bike out of the back of the trailer we’d hauled all the way from the Lone Star State and Brett already had his running, headed out across the grass. Dipshit didn’t even know where he was going. He’d always been a little squirrelly. He was a mix of fearlessness and stupidity. The perfect combination for a freestyle motocross rider and a best friend. We’d met on the amateur circuit when I was seventeen and hit it off. When I moved from Illinois and we both started racing professionally, we became inseparable. Unlike some of the other guys, I genuinely like Brett. It didn’t hurt that we competed in different categories. He liked to jump his bike, while I preferred to have my wheels ‘ripping the dirt’ as my brother so eloquently put it. I was a racer. And a damn good one. That’s not me being cocky. That’s a fact. I’d just finished my fourth professional season on the top of the leader board.
“Fine,” my brother huffed. “But I’m going to go ahead and call about the title.”
“So call. We’ll be back soon. I just want to check out the track. Or what’s left of it,” I said with a wink as I pulled my helmet on. The roar of Eileen’s motor had my blood pumping in the way only she could. Yes, I named my bike. I name all my bikes. But, Eileen, she was special. She was my first fully custom-built bike.
Hoyt waved me off and pulled his cell from his pocket to call the realty office. I was halfway down the trail when a moment of nostalgia hit. Memories of being with her. What had seemed like a lifetime ago, was now all I could see. All I could feel.
Her long legs squeezing my body from behind. Her arms wrapped around my chest as we zipped through the field. The sound of her excited laugh echoing in my ear as we rode like we were wild and free.
I’d had to make some choices back then and the sudden recurrence of memories I tried to forget had my heart pumping as fast as the gas through my bike. Choices that I was fine with. I had to be. Asking my parents to support my dream of becoming a professional rider. Choosing to race over going to college. Ending things with her.
I was doing right by my parents. My family. They had no idea that by the end of fall, I’d be giving them the keys to their dream house. The decision to not go to college had been the right one. I’d made enough money to secure a future for myself, plus I was still racing so more was to follow, as long as I kept winning. Which I intended to.
Ending things with Nora Bennett had been the hardest decision I’d ever made. The one I’d struggled with for a while. Still struggled with, if I was being honest. She’d been my first love, but we were young. Did we even really know what love was? And, what was I supposed to do? Ask my seventeen-year-old girlfriend to wait for me? To give up on having her own life to pine for some dude out in Texas that was trying to capture lightening in a bottle? I couldn’t do that to her. She had a life in Halstead—family and friends. I’d done a pretty good job of not letting myself think about her, but being back in this place—this place where I’d loved her so long ago—had something flowing through me that felt a lot like regret.
You did the right thing.
I’d been telling myself that for years and I would keep telling myself until the visions of her in my head stopped. It worked before. It would work again. It had to. I was here for like five minutes in the grand scheme of things. Three months and I’d be back in Texas. I had zero time to be drudging up the past.
Brett brake checked me forcing me to stop abruptly before hitting my front tire against his back.
“You taking a nap?” he teased.
“No.” I shook it off. “Just thinking about what it was like to grow up here,” I confessed and waited for him to start busting my chops about the past. Instead, he gave me a knowing smile. A moment passed between us where I knew that he understood all that I’d sacrificed back then. I’d talked to him about when I first moved to his home state.
“Let’s go, daydreamer,” he finally said. His Texas drawl might have been charming to most, but it didn’t faze me. A smart ass was a smart ass.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” I rode past him to the track.
The track was in terrible shape. The hills had settled and rounded off from years of neglect, the whoop section was nonexistent and the berms that used to make taking the corners at a high rate of speed possible, now barely offered enough support for a snail’s pace. There where saplings as tall as me and weeds that were going to need a whole lot more than just pulling.
“Well, fuck. This is a mess.” Brett had already hopped of his bike and had his helmet in hand by the time I pulled up next to him.
“I can see that, Sally,” I replied. I climbed off the bike and hung my helmet on the handlebars. Brett Sallinger hated two things: losing and being called my favorite nickname for him. He bounced his shoulder off mine, giving me a friendly warning before he started walking the track.
“I can see it though,” he said as he reached the one-time peak of a double jump, stretching his arms out to either side of him. “This was probably bad ass.”
“It was.” It sucked that no one had maintained this place. It was a great track. So many hours and sweat had gone into making it my training area and playground. It wasn’t the Texas track I’d trained on for the past seven years, but it was something worth salvaging. “We’ll fix it. We’ve got nothing else to do, right?”
“Right,” he nodded. We were in Halstead for the next three months. A construction crew was coming to build my parents’ new house. My brother and Brett had come along to help me oversee the process. Well, Brett came along to see what kind of trouble he could get into in a small town and Hoyt came to keep my ass in check. Mostly, I think we really were just all looking for a break.
The past season had been a tough one. The level of competition had been heated for both me and Brett. This was the first year we were both racing for the same team: Throttled Energy. The energy drink brand was new to the market and thrilled to have both me and Brett on board. Brett and I were thrilled to have factory Yamahas custom made for us. The salary was pretty sweet too. As long we were winning, they were paying us. I’d taken home the title for 450 racing and Brett had nailed down his second freestyle championship. Both of us had been pushed to the max by the pressure, and while it felt good to come out on top, we needed a break before we kicked off our winter training back in Texas.
I surveyed the land for a long moment, reveling in the memory of what it was like before. Before the money, before the sponsorships and pressure… before the insanity. Fuck. I actually missed this place. Suddenly three months didn’t seem long enough.
Brett rolled his eyes at me. “Well, let’s get started then before you get lost in your daydreams.”
I hadn’t been on the back roads of Halstead in years. There was nothing for me outside of the small town I called home. My family. My boyfriend. My job. Since graduating high school, I hadn’t had a reason to leave the city limits. Occasionally, I would shoot down the highway to the closest town over. They had a mall and the junior college I had attended was there. But the country road I was driving down now? Much less traveled. For good reason. Surprisingly enough, I still knew the way. Down the narrow gravel roads to the unmarked intersection of No Man’s Land and Free Range.
The green fields of corn and beans had faded to harvest brown—a few of them already cut. The only other people I’d met on these back roads were driving a combine and a tractor pulling a grain cart behind it. It might not have seemed like it, but it was a busy time of year out here. The time when the farmer finally returned to the fields after months of waiting for crops to grow.
Straight out past the high school. Left at the Baptist Church at the town line. Follow the winding gravel around for about five miles. You’ll see an old barn, take a right.
When my boss was giving me the directions, I had an inkling of where he wanted me to go. The old Travers’ property. Sure enough, when I looked up the coordinates, I was right.
“Think you’ll be able to find it?” Mr. Hillcrest had asked as he handed me a packet of documents that needed a signature before the sale could be complete.
“I’m familiar.”
“That’s right,” he’d said with a smirk. “You dated one of the Travers boys back in high school. I almost forgot.” No he didn’t. No one did. Typical small town. People remember all the things you want them to forget. And want to forget yourself, for that matter.
“I did,” I’d said, unable to fake the same enthusiasm. I’d dated Reid Travers all right. I’d also had my heart shattered into fifty million tiny pieces by him, but I doubted Mr. Hillcrest knew that part of the story. All anyone knew about Reid now was that he was some big shot motocross racer these days.
Guess he got what he wanted.
I tried not to be bitter when I heard anyone mention his name, and honestly, I hadn’t heard it very often. Sure, he was from Halstead, but it wasn’t like he ever came back around. He left and went on to bigger and better things. Our sweet little town clearly wasn’t big and shiny enough for him.
“I’m just glad that the place finally sold. It’s been in holding for a few years now. It will be nice to finally make some money off of it.” The people who had bought the property from the Travers’ hadn’t been able to keep up with their payments.
“Who am I delivering these to?” I’d asked when he handed me the title.
My boss had scratched his balding head. “You know, I’m not exactly sure. The paper work says RTR Incorporated. The purchase actually went through the bank. We’re just the middlemen at this point.”
I nodded my head absently as I took the papers from his hand before heading out into the warm late summer air.
The majority of the leaves on the trees that lined the narrow roads were still full and vibrant, but as I drove with my window down I could feel autumn coming. The change was in the air. The humidity was waning and the summer flowers had begun to wilt. It wouldn’t be long before the days were shorter and the leaves were a fiery palette of colors. I turned up the radio to my favorite country station and with the musical soundtrack blowing up my speakers, my peaceful country drive was complete.
As much as I hated to admit it, I had actually missed being out here. I’d always connected this place to bad memories, but as I drove through, I remembered a few of the good ones. Riding on the back of Reid’s bike was the first that came to mind. Making out on Reid’s bike came soon thereafter. To be young and in love again. No worries. No responsibilities. It was just me and him, and his bike, of course.
The bike was always there. I should have known he’d pick it over me one day.
I shook my head as if that could actually clear the nostalgia from it. That was the past. Reid Travers was my past and that was exactly where he could stay. I’d done all right for myself since he’d left. Graduated from college, received my Real Estate license, started dating one of Halstead’s most eligible bachelors. I was doing just fine without the bitter taste of Reid Travers’ name on my lips. I’d get these papers signed and I’d be back in Halstead and off memory lane in no time.
The music was suddenly cut off abruptly returning me to the here and now.
“Incoming call from Georgia Bennett,” the computerized voice of my car nearly gave me a heart attack. “Press Connect to accept.”
“Hey, sis,” I answered after turning the volume to a more suitable decibel.
“What are you doing?” Georgia asked carefully.
“Driving.”
“Are you on your hands’ free?”
“Yes, Georgia. I always use it when I’m in the car. You know that,” I reminded her. Georgia was a bit of worrywart, with good reason. Two years ago, her high school sweetheart turned fiancé was killed. He was on his first tour with the Army when it happened. Georgia still hadn’t recovered and the idea of losing other people she loved had become a serious and daily concern for her.
“Wear your seat belt. Eat right. Exercise. Lock your doors,” she was constantly barking orders at me and our parents to make sure we were healthy, safe, and responsible. God bless her for looking out for us, but I tried to remind her daily that we couldn’t predict the future. We couldn’t stop bad things from happening to good people.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to get home. I thought we had a sister date tonight?”
“Georgia, we live together. Isn’t every night a sister date?”
“No. Your stupid boyfriend usually interrupts.”
“He’s not stupid,” I defended. Beau Gregurich’s high school reputation had unfortunately stuck with my sister. He wasn’t always the nicest guy, but he’d changed just like I had. He was by no means perfect, but he had good qualities, even if my sister didn’t think so. He was attentive and sweet to me. My sister, on the other hand…he and she rarely saw eye to eye on anything.
“Fine, he’s not stupid but he better not show up tonight. It’s just you and me.”
“Got it. I’ll be home in about a half hour. I’ve got to drop some papers off for a client.”
“O—. Be—. See you—” Her response was a jumble of words that I could barely understand.
“I can’t hear you, G. The signal is terrible out here.”
“Where ar—” the call dropped.
I’d call her back on my way home. I had work to do. When I pulled onto the lane that led up to the meeting place, I saw a black Expedition pulling an Airstream trailer and a red pick-up truck pulling a large black enclosed trailer with silver lettering scrawled artistically down the side of it: Throttled Energy.
Had some energy drink manufacturer bought the property?
I parked my car behind the Airstream and took a look at myself in the rearview mirror. My hair was a tangled mess from driving with the windows down and I had a few tear streaks where apparently a few tears had leaked without my knowledge during my stroll down memory lane. I smoothed it out the best I could before securing it in a loose bun at the nape of my neck with a random elastic band I found in my cup holder. Then, I wiped away the tear stains and slicked on a coat of lip gloss.
I grabbed the folder of papers that needed a signature and got out of my car. I didn’t see anyone around, but the back of the trailer was open.
“Hello,” I called out. The familiar roar of dirt bike motors could be heard off in the distance. Just what this town needed—some Reid Travers wannabe moving in. I would have bet money that whoever it was knew that Reid had learned to ride on this property and thought they could recreate magic. Ugh. And judging from the company name on the trailers, they were probably going to charge admission.
“Hi,” a voice answered from inside the trailer. “I’ll be right out.”
“Great. I’m Nora from Hillcrest Realty. I have the contracts for the land deed.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man said as he stepped to the back of the trailer with an expression of pure surprise widening his features. “Nora Bennett. Long time, no see.”
I took in his full frame. He didn’t look like the boy that had moved away with his family all those years ago. Hoyt Travers was all grown up, and quite well I might add, but I still recognized his smile. It was just as sweet as ever. The Travers boys had been blessed with very generous genes.
“Hoyt? Wow. How are you?” I smiled back at him. He wrapped his arms around me unexpectedly and I giggled like a schoolgirl—something I couldn’t remember doing in years. Hoyt and I had started Kindergarten together way back when. He was actually the first Travers to give me the time of day. He had been the one who invited me over to his house to go swimming the summer before high school. The same summer that his brother finally noticed I was alive.
“You look good, Hoyt. But you’re squeezing me to death.”
“My bad,” he replied quickly squeezing me one more time before releasing me. “You look pretty damn good yourself. And I’m doing all right.”
“RTR Incorporated?” I inquired, gesturing to the lettering. “That’s you?”
“Kind of.” He shrugged. “Reid Travers Racing.”
“Of course.” I should have figured the second I heard the dirt bikes. “You buying the land?”
“We are.” His use of we should have been an indicator of what I was avoiding asking. There was no way he drove both of these vehicles to Illinois by himself, but I really doubted that Reid would have come back now. Or ever. He’d gone seven solid years without so much as glancing back. Why would he start now? “Reid is going to shit a brick when he sees you,” Reid whistled lowly.
“So he’s here then?” I had not been prepared for an impromptu reunion with my ex. So much for my internal reasoning that he wouldn’t be there. His brother I could handle, but seeing Reid again had a lump forming in my throat that was threatening to cut off my air supply. “I mean... I doubt it,” I choked out taking a deep breath.
“I don’t know—” Before Hoyt could finish responding, the roar of two full throttles drowned out his voice. Two bikes came racing towards us, both men wearing helmets, but I could tell without a doubt that Reid was on the right.
He had the same posture, the same style. The same hard determination that he’d always had when riding—gripping the handles and twisting the throttle like it was exactly what he’d been put on this earth to do. I’d been watching him ride since I was fourteen. Ever since I skipped jumping into the pool with Hoyt, took my first ride on the back of Reid’s bike and got the scar on the inside of my left calf. I’d been wearing shorts, a mistake I never made again, when I bumped it on the motor.
I’d been trying to fade it away for years—coco butter, vitamin E, whatever suggestion I could find on the Internet for removing scars. But, just like remembering how Reid rode his bike, the scar had stuck with me.
I caught myself nervously tucking my hair behind my ear. I wasn’t there to see Reid. I was here to do a job. I straightened my stance and held my shoulders back. I wasn’t some easily distracted kid anymore. I refused to let him affect all the hard work I’d put into forgetting about him.
“I just need a corporate signature.” I held up the papers in my hand and tried to pretend like I didn’t see his face when he pulled his helmet off. I also pretended to ignore that I didn’t see the tight stretch of his jeans across his thighs as he sat there on his bike trying to figure out if it was actually me standing on his property. The afternoon sunlight shone behind him—the light breaking around his broad shoulders and head full of thick, dark hair. There was a hitch in my breathing that I covered by clearing my throat.
“I can sign it,” Hoyt said, reaching out to grab the papers from my hand.
“Actually, it’s my name on the deed, little brother,” the timbre of Reid’s voice sent a delicious chill down my spine that I tried to ignore. Between the halo of sunlight, the cadence of his voice, and the way he stepped down off his bike, I found myself unable to keep from looking directly at him. I glanced his way, just in time to watch as he pulled up the bottom of his threadbare T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.
Sweet Jesus. I had to pray that he didn’t notice my eyes widen and me damn near drooling.
Just like his brother, Reid Travers had grown up. He had always been attractive, but time and professional racing had done something to his features and body that he should have thanked the good Lord every day for. His jawline and nose seemed more chiseled. His eyes wiser and brighter. Well-worn jeans hung around his hips, the waistband sitting just below a set of abs that had me thinking all kinds of things—none of which had anything to do with a real estate transaction. While my stomach was a knot of nervousness, below that something inside of me was coiling so tightly that the possibility of shooting straight into the sky seemed feasible. Especially if he kept looking at me the way he was. His brown eyes were locked on mine and I was helpless to look away.
“Nora Bennett,” he said as he closed the distance between us. He ran his hand down his jawline, the days’ worth of stubble only adding to his new all-grown-up appeal. “How are you?”
“Fine,” I answered softly as he reached out. The second his hand touched my arm, I knew I was in trouble—his rough, calloused fingertips met my smooth skin and it was like striking a match. I leaned back and held up the folder between us. I refused to be burned by him again. I needed something to deflect him from coming any closer and I needed to leave as soon as possible. The smell of gas fumes and turned up dirt was already tugging at my nostalgia. If he came any closer I wouldn’t be able to stop him. My mouth was dry and I had to swallow hard just to speak. “I... I just need you to sign these. I need to get back to the office,” I lied.
