THREE
Anna
My original goal was simply to separate myself from my boyfriend. It wasn’t one of those the farther away the better scenarios, all I needed to do was escape his abusive behavior. Despite my plan to go to San Antonio or Austin, I stood 900 miles in the opposite direction at a gas station parking lot in Tucson, Arizona, wondering at what point my impromptu road trip was going to end.
Not that I wanted it to.
Fisher Knox fascinated me. He was a walking contradiction of everything I’d grown to believe about men, society, and the military.
He was a former Marine, but he sure didn’t look like it. His brown hair wasn’t cut in the traditional high-and-tight – it draped over his shoulders, and was longer than mine. He was an attractive man, but he didn’t make sexual advances toward me. Lastly, according to society, he was a murderer. Yet, he was kind, considerate, and caring.
As he walked from inside the gas station toward where I was standing, I studied him. Dressed in a new pair of tight-fitting jeans, a wife beater, and black leather lace-up boots, he exemplified the type of man I’d spent my adult years lusting after.
The shirt clung to him like a stark white layer of skin. His waist was small, and his stomach was flat, like the boys who played basketball in high school. His chest, however, was broad, like a weight lifter or a football player. It took everything within me to maintain even an ounce of ladylike behavior.
I tore my eyes away from him and gazed out at the cactus rich horizon. For the past two nights, we’d slept in the same bed. He had yet to make any sexual advances toward me – or even joke about it for that matter. I’d gone from expecting it to desiring it, and the fact he wasn’t so much as trying was driving me insane.
My sexual tension was at an all-time high.
He stepped in front of me and raised his right hand between us. A plastic bag dangled from his clenched fist. “Didn’t have much, but Mesa’s only two hours away. Figured we’d stop there for the night. Egg rolls or fried burritos. Pick one.”
I hadn’t eaten for six hours, and was miserably hungry. I playfully snatched the bag from his grasp and peered inside. Two egg rolls and two burritos were in the bottom of the bag, along with a handful of napkins.
“I’ll have one of each,” I announced. “And you can have one of each.”
He chuckled. “You’ve got to pick one or the other.”
“One or the other?” I looked at him. “Seriously? Why?”
“Life’s about making decisions and living with the consequences.” He gestured toward the bag. “Pick one.”
There weren’t any consequences associated with eating a fried burrito that I knew of. I coughed out a laugh. “What consequences are there with gas station foodstuffs?”
“The burrito’s pork. It has more protein than the egg roll – so it’ll stick with you longer – but it has a shorter shelf life. Impossible to say how long it’s been under that heat lamp, so it might be the carrier of a few strains of bacteria. The eggrolls, on the other hand, won’t fill you up as much, but they’re less apt to make you sick.” He gestured toward the sack. “That bag’s filled with consequences.”
His theory was batshit crazy. I looked in the bag and then at him. “You’re nuts. Where do you get your information?”
He shrugged. “It’s common knowledge.”
I’d eaten my fair share of meals that were cooked by questionable gas station attendants and left beneath flickering heat lamps, and I’d never had any adverse effects. I wanted the burritos, even if they were going to make me sick, but I figured he needed the protein more than me. He outweighed me by a hundred pounds, and he hadn’t eaten since lunch.
“I’ll go with the eggrolls,” I said.
He folded his arms over his chest and grinned a little. “Scared of the burrito?”
I was a risk taker, but I was also a nurturer, and he needed to eat more than I did. “I’m just going with the eggrolls. No real reason.”
He reached into the bag and pulled out one eggroll and one burrito.
I gave him a look. “Hey, you said one or the other.”
“It was a test. I was seeing if you were a risk taker.”
“Why?”
“It’d let me know how to plan the rest of the trip.”
I wondered what he meant, and further wondered if I was in for an adventure. I reached into the bag and pulled out a burrito. “Assume I picked the burritos.”
He bit the eggroll in two. “But you didn’t.”
“I did. I mean, kind of. They’re what I wanted, but I figured you needed them more than me.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re bigger than me, so you need more food. I gave up what I wanted to satisfy your hunger.” I cocked an eyebrow. “So, I’m a risk taker and a nurturer.”
“A nurturer, huh?” He poked the remaining eggroll in his mouth and then looked me over. “Yeah. You look pretty motherly.”
I was wearing cut-off shorts, ten-year-old Chucks, and a tee shirt I’d torn the sleeves from. I looked far from motherly. “I’m looking pretty Whiskey Tango right now.”
“It was sarcasm.” He gave me a quick look and then grinned. “You look cute.”
As far as compliments went, it wasn’t much. It was enough, however, to make me blush a little. I gnawed on my burrito and hoped he didn’t notice that my face had gone flush.
Due to the limited amount of space on his motorcycle, I’d brought only the necessities with me, and left the rest. One thing I couldn’t bring, however, was much money.
Fisher didn’t seem to care. He paid for everything, and didn’t ask for anything in return. Furthermore, he didn’t ask what I was running from, or what my long-term plan was. He seemed to be an in the moment kind of guy.
The more time I spent with him, the less I could imagine leaving. It seemed out of character for me, but I was becoming attached to him after knowing him for only two days. Despite what he did to the three men in the bar, he was calm, quiet, and courteous.
He bit the corner off his burrito and then leaned against the handlebars of the motorcycle. “So, you still planning on going all the way?”
I wanted to go all the way with him, but that wasn’t what he meant. “To the beach?” I asked.
“The coast.”
“There’s a beach on the coast, right?”
“Last time I checked.”
I’d never been to the beach, and the thought of doing so was enough to justify me staying with Fisher at least until we got there.
“I can’t wait,” I said. “I’ve never seen it. So, as long as you don’t get sick of me, yeah.”
“You’re pretty good company. Doubt I’ll get sick of you.”
I studied him. His face was covered in a few day’s growth of stubble. It only added to his masculine appearance. The tattoos scattered about his upper arms completed his bad boy persona. As he pushed his left hand into the pocket of his jeans, the muscles in his upper arm flared.
“Let’s hope not.” My eyes lingered on his bicep. “I’m getting kind of used to having you around.”
He poked the end of his burrito into his mouth and then patted me on the shoulder. “Saddle up. We’ll finish this conversation in Mesa.”
He talked very little, but his actions spoke more than words ever could, or would. Sexually, he was far more reserved than the men I’d been with in the past. If anything was going to happen between us, it was obvious I was going to have to be the aggressor. I had no idea how much longer I could wait, but when the day came, Fisher Know was going to get the ride of his life.
All I could do was hope that he liked it as much as I liked thinking about it.