Rebel

“Purple.” He tapped her nose. “Remember it. I’ll quiz you later.”



She slipped a spoonful of yogurt and fruit in her mouth, her mind filled with Purple? Really? and the combinations of flavors burst—sweet and refreshing, the perfect way to start a day.



“Oh man,” she murmured, then swallowed before she said, “Vanilla yogurt too? You are a god.”



He ran the back of his finger along the top of her thigh. “I thought we’d do something fun this morning.”



“Mmm,” she said around another mouthful, holding up her spoon to pause him while she finished her bite. “I told your dad—”



“And I told my dad I get you first. He has to wait until this afternoon.”



She licked her lips and smiled before dipping into her breakfast again. “How did that go over?”



“He went to the barn to pout.”



She laughed. “He was so excited about getting those sensors working.” She turned the spoon over and licked yogurt from the curved surface with a slow stroke of her tongue while watching Wes. “What are you interested in working on this morning, Mr. Lawson?”



With his hand on her thigh, he leaned in and kissed her lips, her cheek, her jaw, and continued down her neck.



“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Let me smear some of this yogurt on you. Breakfast will become a double pleasure.”



His mouth curved against her skin. He planted one more kiss to her shoulder, pushed off the bed, and started for the door. “Nope. We’ve got places to go. Change into jeans and tennis shoes.”



“Russo fashion faux pas, Lawson. Not going to happ—”



He turned back, brows raised in taunting invitation. “Beautiful day for sightseeing from the back of a motorcycle.”



Excitement sparked deep in her chest. She gasped, straightened, and set down her parfait. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”



“Thought that might perk you up,” he said as he closed the door. “I’ll be downstairs.”



Rubi jumped out of bed, rummaged through her suitcase, and pulled out the only jeans she’d brought—the capris Wes had loved on her at the set last week. She added her running shoes, vowing to make him pay for forcing her to wear them together, and tugged on a workout tank—the closest thing to a T-shirt she’d brought.



She brushed her hair, wound it into a ponytail and rubbed sunscreen on her face. With her parfait in one hand and her coffee in the other, she skipped down the stairs but pulled up short in the kitchen where she found his mother, his sister, and his two nieces. Wes was at the sink…doing dishes?



Okay, reality check. This was bizarre.



“How’d you sleep, Rubi?” Susie asked with a sunny smile.



“Wonderful, thank you.”



“Come meet my granddaughters.”



Ugh, really? But she went to the table where one of the girls tilted her face up until her bright blue eyes met Rubi’s. The fork in her hand was stacked with pancake, the syrup dripping onto her plate. The other, the one who looked a little older, only stared at the table.



“This is Abby,” Susie said, gesturing to the smaller one, then to the other, “and Emma. This is Rubi.”



“Uncle Wes’s girlfriend,” Abby said before stuffing her mouth with pancake.



Rubi smiled. “Hi, Abby. Hi, Emma.”



The older girl didn’t look up or say anything but turned her head toward Rubi. They were cute, no doubt. And terrifying. Rubi’s excitement over the ride turned into something more like desperation.



Wes turned off the faucet and sauntered over, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “Don’t push it, Abby. I know what you’re up to little lady.”



Abby grinned, showing a mischievous, gap-toothed little grin that made her blue eyes sparkle just like Wes’s. And Christ, that did insanely uncomfortable things to Rubi’s stomach. Like…nauseating things.



She smiled up at Wes. “Ready?”



“Where are you two going?” Whitney asked. She was dressed in business casual, black pants, and a pretty camel-colored shell.



“I’m taking Rubi sightseeing.”



Whitney snorted a laugh and set her coffee mug down. “Where? And in what? Wyatt’s old truck?”



“Here, dork,” Wes said, “where do you think? And no, on Wyatt’s underused bike.”



“I think dork is a bad word,” Abby said, then looked at Susie. “Isn’t dork a bad word, Grandma?”



“I see,” Whitney said. “So it’s really more of an-excuse-to-ride type of sightseeing tour.”



“Call it what you want.”



Whitney shot Rubi a poor-you smirk. “Hope you like vegetation, Rubi. You’ll get some really up-close-and-personal glances at trees, soybean fields, vineyards, maybe even the muddy Missouri River.”



“That’s no way to talk about your birthplace,” Wes chided. “Besides, everything is turning. We hit the fall colors perfectly. It couldn’t get prettier out there.”



“You’ve definitely been living in LA too long if you’ve forgotten how much you hated fall when you had to rake all those ‘pretty’ leaves.” Whitney rose from the table and carried her coffee mug to the sink. “Rubi, you’re going to have a headache if you ride with your hair up.” She walked toward her. “Turn around, I’ll French braid it for you.”



Um… Rubi shot glances around the room, then turned her back to Whitney. She quickly pulled the elastic band from Rubi’s hair and combed her fingers through it. “Oh my God, what a luxurious head of hair. I bet other women hate you for it.”



“Most women hate me for just about everything,” Rubi said without thinking how the comment would be taken until it was already out.



Whitney laughed softly, a sound conveying more understanding than humor. “I can imagine.”



Okay, this was…strangely intimate. Like a high school best-friend kind of intimate. She didn’t know the woman at all, yet Rubi felt close to her. She knew some relationships were like that—they just clicked. Like she and Lexi had all those years ago. Like she and Wes had the night at the airport. But it was rare for Rubi, so it made her feel…awkward.



But by the time all that registered, Whitney was done, fastening the band at the tail of her braid between her shoulder blades. “There you go—much more comfortable under a helmet.”



Rubi ran a hand over the braid. “Thank you.”



“No problem.” She shot Rubi another grin and started for the front door. “Y’all enjoy all those pretty trees, now.”



Wes moved around the table and kissed Abby on the head, then Emma. “Have fun with Grandma, girls.”



“Love you, Uncle Wes.” This came from Emma, soft and without ever meeting Wes’s gaze.



“Love you too, Emmie.” He put a hand on Rubi’s shoulder and led her the same direction Whitney had gone. “Bye, Mama.”



“Wait,” she said. “Rubi can’t ride in that.”



“I’ll give her my jacket,” Wes said.



“Good Lord, Wes, it will swallow her.” She pulled a black leather jacket off the back of her chair and walked it to Rubi with a smirk and a teasingly disgusted “Men.”



Rubi took the jacket. “Thanks.”



“Have fun,” she said, standing at the door as they trotted down the steps and turned toward the garage. “Be safe, please.”



“Always,” Wes called back.



The door to one of the bays in the three-car garage was already open, and Wes walked toward a sleek silver BMW.



“Yum,” she said with enthusiasm.



Wes barked a laugh. “That’s a new one. I’m assuming you’ve ridden before.”



“It was a really long time ago.”



Wes’s grin widened. He took the jacket and held it open for her. Once she’d zipped it up, he pulled two helmets from a shelf and handed her one. “I tricked these helmets out with an intercom system—the same one I use at work—and stereo speakers. So you just talk, and I’ll hear you.”



She slipped the helmet on, and Wes made sure it was secure. He pulled a jacket from the wall, a snazzy short-waisted riding leather, much like the one Jax owned and Lexi had coveted on their first pseudo meeting. After pulling it on, he straddled the bike and patted the seat behind him.



Once she was settled, he pointed toward the rear wheel. “This is your footrest. Your arms go around me. Your body up against mine.” He grinned. “Like, real close.”



“Are you trying to make me hot, Lawson? ’Cause it’s working.”



His lips quirked, and his eyes grew warm. “Relax and let your body follow mine. Just like you did last night. That was perfection.”



She slid her arms around his waist and squeezed. “Agreed.”



Twenty-Five



Rubi was in heaven.



She pressed her body against Wes’s back as he expertly guided the bike along the curving back roads. The roads overlooked vineyard after gorgeous vineyard all alight in golds and reds. His deep, smooth voice filled her ears as he pointed out different areas that held significance—every vineyard he’d harvested as a kid, every home of a high school buddy, every tiny lake hidden among the trees.



The sun was warm, the air thick and cool, the bike comfortable and fast, the trees absolutely brilliant shades of gold, orange, red, and green. She felt incredibly free, all her worries tucked far away. All but one—the realization that she was falling for Wes. Big-time.



She pushed the thought back into the shadows, just as she had for over a week now, and enjoyed the truly beautiful countryside. Wes took the tightest curves and corners with every ounce of his stunt-driving flare and Rubi enjoyed the fresh jolts of adrenaline. He’d cued a mix of Rubi’s favorite alternative rock—Fall Out Boy, Nickelback, Three Doors Down, Theory of a Deadman—and the invigorating music poured through the helmet, dimming only when she or Wes spoke into the intercom. Pretty damn slick.



She was beginning to realize that Wes Lawson was a freaking mechanical genius, and selling his rig for big bucks, setting him up financially for his future—if not for the rest of his life—had become increasingly important to Rubi. Good people deserved good things in life. She’d seen far too many people like her father gather all the wealth.



“These colors make me wish I was a photographer,” she said.



“The soil is so rich, everything grows here,” he said. “There’s silver maple, elm, mulberry, hickory, sumac, honey locust. The purple on your right are dogwoods and ash. There’s more than I could even name.”



They edged into thicker stands of trees, and the vineyards and farming fields slowly disappeared until only trees bordered the roadside.



Wes slowed and turned onto a gravel road that led into the colorful forest.



“Where are we going?” she asked.



“My secret hideaway.” His voice holding exaggerated mystery.



They wound in and around curves. The road turned to dirt and the elevation dropped once again as they started down the other side of a ridge. “Secret’s right. How’d you ever find it?”