I SLID INTO the passenger seat, popping the tab on Marsha's Diet Coke and tearing open her bag of Zapp's Voodoo flavored chips, setting them on the console for easy access. We had an understanding that the copilot took charge of organizing snacks and such. It wasn't our first road trip. Every summer since my first year of college we had made it a point to take one somewhere together. Thus far only in Texas because of budgetary constraints. The big state had lots to experience; piney rolling hills, dry prairies, sandy beaches and everywhere plenty of cute guys interested in a summer fling.
"Thanks," Marsha said, slipping out a chip, placing it in her mouth and crunching it enthusiastically as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine clicked but didn't turn over. Her brow creasing, she tried again. "Shit." She slammed her hands against the steering wheel and gave me an apologetic look. "Maybe I should've gotten the engine light checked out after all."
"It's ok." I unfastened my seat belt. “Maybe it just needs to sit idle a little longer.”
“Sure. We can try that, but in the meantime, I think I should probably go inside and ask for a mechanic's number just in case."
"Sounds reasonable.” I grimaced. "Car trouble’s gonna throw a major kink in our plans if we can’t get going soon. And not the good kind. We might not make the concert." I took the keys she handed me, and we switched places. She grabbed her purse and went inside the building. I decided to wait a few extra minutes before trying to restart the car. Through the front windshield, I watched other people filling up their cars. Every pump was occupied, except at the diesel section where an unmarked tour bus pulled in.
"Dammit. C'mon. You can do it,” I coaxed the car out loud. “You've never let us down before." But my coaxing didn’t work, and the key turn didn't even get a click this time. I hastily texted Marsha. I told her we were going to need a tow truck in addition to a mechanic. I popped the latch on the hood and got out of the car to investigate. I didn't know a whole lot about automotive repair, but Ivan had taught me a few things. He collected antique cars. Maybe I could figure it out.
I propped open the hood. I inspected the battery terminals first. They looked clean. What next?
"Is there a problem, Angel?"
Letting out a gasp, I whirled around. Trouble of a different sort stood behind me. Arms crossed over his chest, aviator shades shielding his glacier blue eyes, Lucky gave me a leisurely head to toe scan like he had the first time we had met. I tried not to react to it, but found it impossible knowing he had just mentally undressed me. Tugging down on the hem of my midriff-baring halter first, I stamped a swift hand to my hip and checked him out in turn. Clad in jeans and a faded Killer’s t-shirt, the garments Lucky wore appeared to be custom molded to his rock god form.
"Don’t stop with just a look.” He read my appreciation, and his mocking grin reappeared. “You know you like what you see. You can fall at my feet again if you feel the need. After all, a sexy woman on her knees, her beautiful lips inches away from my cock. It’s the kind of scenario a guy could become accustomed to.”
"Yeah, well. Don’t get your hopes up," I retorted, telling myself not to get sidetracked by the flattering adjectives he had sprinkled in along with his suggestive scenario.
His mocking grin flattened. “Shall I have a look under the bonnet then?”
"You mean the hood? I can figure it out on my own. I doubt you know how to fix cars anyway, but thanks."
"Actually, love, my dad was a mechanic. He taught me everything he knew before he passed. It was one of the few things we could work on together without arguing. My guess is that you have a problem with the relay. You know the electrical circuit. Those can be quite tricky." He turned and gave me a flippant wave that jangled the silver bracelets adorning his wrist. "Good luck with it and what not." He started to walk away. I managed to drag my eyes up from the view of his fine ass and the jeans that lovingly cupped it to call him back before he went too far away.
"Hey, wait." Maybe I was overreacting. He was just being a flirt, albeit one who had an unnerving ability to irritate me. He turned around, a sardonic brow rising above the rim of his shades. "I'm, um, sorry about your dad." Visible tension gripped his frame, but he acknowledged my offer of condolence with a tight nod. "I know what it's like to lose a close family member,” I explained. “Two of them actually.” I glanced away, immediately wishing I hadn't spilled something so personal. But I hadn’t missed the regret in his voice and the pain in his features when he had spoken of his father. I was well versed in those things. His grief must have weighed on him like mine did, even though their relationship had apparently been strained. Didn’t matter, though. Family was family. You only got one mother and father. Twisting my hands, I gathered my frayed thoughts together and returned my gaze to his. "Seriously, if you can do anything, I would truly appreciate it."
Before he could reply, and I could tell by the way a half smile tugged at his full lips that he was going to make a quip about how I might show my appreciation, Marsha reappeared.
She glanced back and forth between the two of us, her gaze settling on Lucky. "What are you doing here?" she asked, grilling him with narrowed eyes.
"Our driver pulled in for petrol." He dipped his chin toward me. His shades slid down his strong nose, and his piercing blue eyes locked with my golden brown ones over the frames. "I spotted sooner or later girl right away, along with half a dozen other chaps. She was bent over the hood like Paris Hilton in the Carl’s Jr. car wash commercial. Easy enough to get a real good look at her knickers.” He made a disapproving sound. “That’s twice now I've seen her in her undergarments without even having to ask permission. Your friend’s reckless. She needs to be more careful about the kind of attention she invites, and you need to keep better watch on her. How long were you planning to leave her alone out here in the dark in the middle of bloody nowhere?”
"I was only gone for a moment. Not that it's really any of your business." After setting him straight, Marsha turned to me. "Bad news, I'm afraid. I called a tow truck, but the charge for it was declined by my credit card. Something about two transactions back to back at the same place triggering a fraud alert. They locked down my card and apparently there's no one around who can unlock it over the weekend. Not only that, all the mechanics are closed now and won’t reopen until Monday morning. We are totally and completely screwed. We're going to miss the concert." She reached for me, wrapping her fingers around my arms. She pressed her forehead to mine. Her eyes got glassy, so did mine.
"Tell me it's not the only concert this summer with 2 Rows Back?" I whispered. They had been our favorite since the third grade. We loved them, but had never seen them live.
"Ok, I won't." Her lips turned down.
"But it is, isn't it."
She nodded.
Lucky cleared his throat. We swiveled in his direction. "It’s not like they can walk on water or anything. They’re just bloody musicians." I could sense he was rolling his eyes behind those dark sunglasses. "Not to worry, girls. We're opening for them."
I sucked in a shocked breath. "I thought you were paired with Rayne."
"For Fringefest only. But he wouldn’t have had a chance to tell you that. I doubt there was much talking going on between you and the old codger last night." The sarcasm in his tone was thick. "Rayne Michaels. 2 Rows Back. The Dragons. We're all signed to the same record label. Zenith Productions likes to play around with the lineup at different venues to see what works best." He stroked his chin. It had a sexy dent in it that I hadn’t noticed before. "I guess you could hitch a ride on the tour bus with us. You can sort out your situation with your vehicle and still catch the concert in the meantime.” The breeze kicked up, tossing inky strands around his face. Several wisps got stuck in the layer of Velcro stubble on his jaw. Tousled bedroom hair. Five o’clock shadow. Dark sunglasses. He looked the part of a bad boy rocker, his eyes red rimmed from partying and too busy banging chicks to bother with shaving or combing his hair. "It's already crowded. The stacked bunks are occupied. But I could be persuaded to share mine. A ride for a ride." His lips curved into a wicked smile.
"Absolutely not." My denial was swift and shrill. Marsha put a calming hand on my arm. I glanced down at it then up at her. "What?" I snapped. The lead singer of the Dragons seemed to know just what to say to set me off.
"He's teasing you." She shifted to Lucky. "She's not usually so prickly.”
"I'll take your word for it. But it doesn't really matter in the end does it? I'm a rock star. She's wants to shag them. I'm willing. She doesn't even have to dance for me first." He spread his arms wide. "Kumbaya. Love me and leave me." So he had seen my online tequila rant. He was making fun of me.
"Grrr." My hands curled into fists. I wanted to punch his smug unshaven but undeniably handsome face. "I will never sleep with you."
"Never is a long time, Angel." His mocking smile returned.
"Enjoy eternity." My fisted hands shot to my hips.
"You two are really something," Marsha observed, and my gaze swung to her. "A lot of electricity zapping between you. Wish we could harness some of it for the old Honda. Kenny and I used to fight like that all the time. Remember?"
"You hated him. He drove you crazy."
"Sure but the sex..." She waggled her brows.
"Mars," I warned. "I'm not sleeping with him."
"I know, honey. It's alright. He's taking us to New York anyway. He's not a complete asshole."
"How do you figure that?"
"You taking us or not?" She shot a challenging glance his way.
"Fine, then." He turned away and circled his ringed pointer finger over his shoulder as if telling the posse to circle the wagons. "But c’mon. Chivvy along."
"Seriously?" I hissed at her when Lucky strode several long legged lengths ahead. "How do you figure that isn’t a total asshole?" I gestured at the cocky guitar toting Brit.
"Instinct," she replied without hesitation. "Plus, a guy who's really an asshole wouldn't warn me to take better care of you.”