Chapter 8

“Hmm, whew.” I sucked hard on tingling lips as an aftershock wobbled through me. “Thank you for, um, that.”

Across the table from me in a crowded roadside eatery, Cullen chuckled. “Not sure you’re supposed to be thanking bad boys, Mrs. Poole.”

“Leah.”

“Fine, Leah.” He shrugged those massive shoulders. “Looked like you needed a little relief.”

“I did.”

A sudden gust hammered tall panes of dirt-streaked glass with heavier raindrops. An unseasonably powerful storm had arrived, and the place was packed with travelers avoiding its wrath. Loud voices, canned country music, and laughter meant nobody could hear the quiet exchange. Well, other than those crammed around us.

Ezra, with pretty brown eyes twinkling, sat beside his leader. My son, Barry, motionless and silent, was next to me. The slender source of the intense warmth pressing against my other side, Eva had also remained mum. But she was quivering, and Lord help me, I could sense the heat of her gaze on me. At any second, fingernails or a tongue would make their presence known.

Beyond the huge windows, the bus gleamed amid a brightly lit array of fuel pumps. We’d driven only an hour before Tim, the driver, had announced the interstate was blocked by an accident. A few dozen turns later and, with the tempest growing in intensity, he’d pulled into the truck stop.

At least the place offered good food. Well, in keeping with the way my life was meandering, not so much “good.” A diet-busting mix of grilled goodness, piles of French fries, and frothy milkshakes sat before us.

“Oh, and, um, thanks for covering me,” I added.

With teeth buried in my lip, I glanced at the enormous varsity jacket now draping my shoulders. Although awakening to find myself still bared to the world with the dress twisted and trapped, the enormous shroud of purple and gold suppleness had been laid over me.

“Some of the kids wanted to use the bathroom,” Cullen replied. When I started to remove the jacket, he held up his hand. The beaming smile again pierced deep. “No, beautiful. You keep it.”

“Just want everyone to know I’m yours, bad boy?”

He chortled. “Perhaps.”

His glance went to Eva, and the girl snuggled closer. To be honest, not sure why she’d become so clingy. No, wrong word; her body heat and sleek curves felt ... amazing. To deny such a wondrous attraction would be a true sin, right?

Cullen made no comment, and we continued to eat. My strawberry milkshake, under a mound of whipped cream, offered a rare delight to sugar-starved tastebuds. Yes, shattering my diet, but given all that I’d done, what lines couldn’t be crossed on that little jaunt?

After a quiet sigh, I muttered, “Should I ask about my bra?”

The tall possessor of such talented fingers laughed again. “In the pocket. Didn’t want you to choke.”

My fingers sank into the jacket to find twisted lace triangles. A glance at his eyes gave me pause. Sure, maybe for my safety, but ... A wicked hand rose once more, leaving the folded brassiere behind. The silence, filled with crackling energy, became a heavy shroud, muffling every sound but the thunder in my chest.

“Mom, you okay?”

Though Barry’s voice made me flinch, I turned to him with a grin. His eyes were twinkling; had he also sensed the mystical surge?

“Mm-hmm.” I gave him a slow nod. “Just, uh, need a little more stamina for you all.”

“All?” Ezra’s voice and curt laughter brought me to him.

“Perhaps,” this filthy harlot purred before making a show of tonguing and licking the wide pink straw. A slow, cheek-collapsing slurp got me a trio of quiet gasps. “Awful lot of testosterone pumping into the atmosphere around here.”