Chapter Four
“Busy,” Seraphina muttered under her breath as she hurried to Mac’s truck where she’d left it parked at the edge of the lot. “She’s busy, ma. So busy. Too busy for dinner. Oh so busy. Busy busy busy.”
How would he know if she was busy? He avoided her too much. And it wasn’t like he’d asked. He just… spoke.
How rude.
She heard footsteps pounding the pavement behind her but she ignored them. Especially when Rod’s deep voice called her name. It was different than the way he’d said it earlier. Not soft. Not sexy. But still demanding.
Whatever. She was ignoring him hard.
Keep walking. Get in the truck, drive away. Easy.
She reached for the door, but he was already there, reaching to open it for her like he was stupid Prince Charming or something.
Sure. Now he wanted to be polite.
Well, too late.
But he didn’t actually open the door. He just put his hand on the handle so she couldn’t. Should’ve known he wasn’t being a gentleman.
“Excuse me,” she said, not looking at him.
“I was calling your name. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Ohhhh I heard you all right. Everyone in town heard you.”
She sensed the air between them get tense. Her vixen went still, feeling out the situation.
“You mad at me?” he drawled in his lazy way, but she caught that thread of uncertainty in his tone. “That why you left without saying goodbye?”
“I said goodbye.”
“Not to me.”
“I said goodbye to your mother.”
“Doesn’t count.”
She straightened her shoulders and found his gaze.
“Well, I’m verrry busy, you know. I mean, you do know. Because you said so.”
His lips twitched with a smirk and he leaned his hip against the truck door, invading her space. “Well, I’ll be a catfish’s tit. Are you getting smart with me, Seraphina?”
She resisted letting her eyes flutter closed as she absorbed the way his voice curled deliciously around her name. Instead she frowned. “Catfish don’t have breasts.”
“It’s an expression. Answer my question.”
“An expression? Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Oh. Well then.”
“You are.” His eyes crinkled and he shot off a sexy grin. “You’re getting sassy.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, not caring if it was rude. Maybe that’s what it took to get Hot Rod Turner’s attention. Maybe he didn’t like nice girls like her. Maybe they were all wrong for each other and her heart was sending her messed up signals. It wasn’t like the thing had ever been in love before. Or even close to it. Maybe what she was feeling was just… like… gas or something. An air bubble that had stuck around for a few months.
It was possible.
“Look,” he said, pushing off from the truck and crossing his arms over his wide chest while he looked off. “I apologize for embarrassing you on air. Never intended for that to happen.” He glanced back to her, but she didn’t look away. Blinked a hundred times or so, but she held his gaze like a boss.
“Who says I’m embarrassed?”
He laughed. “You are. I can see it.”
“You don’t know everything.”
Reaching forward, he murmured, “I can see it here.” He smoothed his knuckles over her hot cheek, across her jaw, and down the side of her throat. “And here.”
So yeah, the fiery sensation rolling all over her face and neck had nothing to do with the midday sun.
Seraphina gulped and he jerked his hand away, jamming it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“I’m not embarrassed, you are.” Lie. It was a lie. She was mortified even if she was intrigued. And he was just… him. Irreverent as always. He didn’t care what the town thought. What their friends thought. What his mother…
Oh.
That explained the dinner invitation, didn’t it? His mom must have recognized her name from over the radio.
Yeah. Mortified. That was the word for what she felt.
Seraphina’s ears buzzed and her face got hotter. Inside, her animal pranced nervously. The poor vixen didn’t know what to do or how to react, it only knew her human part was spiraling.
Rod was talking but damn if she was listening to a single word.
His mother heard him moan her name on the radio. Of course she did. And now she must think they were an item.
Oh, Seraphina had said yes to dinner because she liked Rod’s mom and she wanted to see how things were when he wasn’t drowning his troubles in booze at Red Cap. She longed to see more of him.
No, not more.
She wanted to see deeper. Under the surface that he showed everyone else. Just so she could know if he was really hers or not.
She tried to focus on the words coming from his mouth. Tried hard.
“… so what I’m saying is, if you want to skip out on dinner, no worries. My mom will understand.”
Seraphina swallowed hard. “She will?”
He frowned, tilting his head. “Sure. I’ll just explain things. You know…”
He left the sentence hanging. And she didn’t know.
“Explain what?”
“That we, you know… aren’t…”
He shifted on his feet, running his palm over his jaw.
“That we haven’t… don’t intend to…”
She’d never seen Hot Rod at a loss for words. It would be funny if she wasn’t holding her breath for him to finish, hoping like hell whatever came out of his mouth made sense to her heart.
“That you aren’t mine,” he said finally.
His words snapped her like a whip to the chest. So sharp and so painful it sent her fox cowering deep inside her somewhere. She swallowed over and over trying to find a way to make her voice work or her brain to come up with words instead of the sad sounds she was hearing in her head.
You aren’t mine.
He said it. Said the words and it was easy. They didn’t hurt him like they hurt her.
You aren’t mine.
And it was true. Had to be, or he wouldn’t deny her so bluntly. So… soundly.
Rod Turner was someone else’s human to love. And she was still nobody’s.
“Seraphina?”
She nodded, blindly pawing for the door handle and managing to get it open. She tossed the food inside and dug deep to find some fragment of a smile before she turned back to him. But it must not have been convincing because he frowned so hard his hat tipped upward.
“Give your mother my apologies, please. I’m… uh, busier than I thought, and won’t be able to make dinner.”
“Seraphina…”
She ignored him and climbed into the cab. Why did he say her name so goddamn much anyways?
She pulled out of the parking spot and angled her way toward the road. But she couldn’t help one last glance in the rearview mirror as she drove away. Rod stood there, watching her leave, one hand holding his hat, the other tangled in his hair with frustration.
The last thing she saw was him furiously kicking a rock toward the road.
Not mine. She couldn’t tell if it was the sad whimper of her fox or if his words were still burning in her ears.
Either way. She was done playing his game, whatever it was.