He presses a key into my palm and raps his knuckles on the hood. “She’s solid, with some years on her, but still runs strong.”
“This is yours?”
He shrugs noncommittally. “You could say so.”
“I’m not taking a stolen truck, Edge.”
“Title’s on the seat. The least you could do is utter a thank you, mouse. But maybe it’s not words from you I want.”
My brow furrows as he invades my space. His meaty hands grasp either side of my hips as he pushes me back against the driver's door. His swollen lips close in on mine. My hands rest on his forearms. I’m not sure if I’m attracted to him per se, but I’m curious to find out if I’ll feel anything at all or if yesterday was just a fluke. He smells of fresh soap and coffee. One hand cups the back of my head as he opens my mouth with his and his tongue searches for mine. Searching for my acceptance. His other hand moves up, slowly rubbing over my tiny breasts. I hiss into his mouth as my nipples harden at his touch. He moves over them lazily in broad daylight. His hand circling, his fingers pinch me lightly. A wave rolls through me. My hips buck forward. His kisses and touches are long; lazy. He’s in no rush to take more but won’t let up either. I kiss him back because I can. Because I’m alive and free and never made out with anyone in a hotel parking lot just for the hell of it.
He grunts, angling his hips closer. I free myself from his mouth, my hand cups his bruised cheek. “Who knew only a little mouse could satisfy the beast? Especially when he had a full course of tits and ass at the buffet but still left hungry?” With that, I push forward making him move back and open the door to the truck, quickly inserting the key into the ignition. Our eyes lock through the glass. His are wide. I wink, blow him a kiss then reverse, leaving him stunned and horny in my wake. In the mirror I glimpse my flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and mussed up hair. Damn, if I don’t look just a little bit hot.
He stares after my taillights with his hands fisted by his sides. I know I haven’t seen the last of him, but I needed to get the hell out of there before I let some Bloody Scorpion biker make me want for things I know he can never give. I’m not delusional into thinking I could be a woman to make a man like that change. Edge is bad with just a hint of good. I came here to start a new life. Getting involved with an MC man was never on my horizon. Besides, Edge has a different woman by the hour for all I know. He thinks nothing of pleasuring one woman than another, if last night is anything to go by.
Using, the navigational app on my phone I set my new destination. “New life, here I come! No more, being a mouse, Amber. It’s time to change.” With that vow, I start making a new list. I’ve been given a second chance. It’s time to truly be re-born. I turn on the radio, blasting a country station. As the truck rolls down I-40, I even do something risky like open the windows. The air whips through the cab, blows my hair back and I’m relieved when no dust particles cause my lungs to clench.
I’m making good time to Santa Fe and my foot presses the gas pedal to the floor. The truck doesn’t cough or protest like my Subaru did. Instead, it accepts the challenge. I laugh out loud.
I’m free.
I’m flying, still high from the bad boy biker’s kiss.
But my grumbling tummy wants more than the butterflies. I need coffee and food. Phase one of my new plan is to gain the weight I lost and add some. I’m going to have a curvy body. Somehow. Someway.
I pull off an exit and sail into the lot of a diner. No one glances my way once as my skinny chicken ass glides into a corner booth. But that will change. I sense it. I’m not running from any sordid past, brutal ex, or broken-down family. My past is as boring as my mud-colored hair and that’s the problem. It’s time to paint my life with bold, fresh color. It’s time these sexy, beastly men stop categorizing me as a plain Jane. I don’t have a pug nose or thin lips. I don’t need plastic surgery. I need to change the inside as much as the out. I just never cared or bothered to paint my canvas. It was easier just to stay invisible for so long.
But I don’t want to be an unseen ghost floating through life anymore. I want to be the desert rose.
It’s not about a man either. It’s about letting myself feel sexy, womanly and in charge of my own narrative. Taking a pen out of my purse, I get started on my new to-do list:
“That’s quite a list.”
I drop my pen, flip the napkin over, quickly looking up feeling so exposed. “Uh, I’ll have a coffee with full cream and sugar. A toasted blueberry muffin, buttered toast… white not—that whole-wheat crap, and a fried-egg sandwich with bacon and cheddar cheese.”
The waitress cocks a hip, “Girl? Now where are you going to put all that?”
I smile faintly. “I’m famished.”
“Clearly. You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, then. You’re a tiny thing…and we hate wasting food after what we’ve been through…”
“I know firsthand. Please don’t preach to me.”
“You a survivor?”
My chin lifts, “damn straight I am.”
“Good for you, honey. Eat up. It’s on me.”
“No, really I can pay.”
She places a hand on my arm. “My cousin didn’t. Please.”
“I guess, I’ll have to eat every last bite now.”
She smiles with her eyes as she walks away to grab the pot of coffee on the burner behind the counter. My eyes look out the glass window to the horizon. Life’s almost returned to normal after years of intermittent lock downs and death. Trillions of dollars and so many leads touted by major pharma companies—and yet it was a high school genius working in a lab at a local community college who broke the viruses genetic code and found the cure. The boy is nineteen now and has more money than Mark Zuckerberg and that guy who runs Amazon.
The waitress brings over my coffee and after adding a generous dollop of cream and three packets of regular sugar, I raise the mug to my lips, close my eyes and savor the taste. “To backyard geniuses,” I murmur.
My cell buzzes on the table causing me to grimace. I debate ignoring it for the tenth time but after what my family went through, I know I can’t.
“Mom?”
“Where are you, Amber? I have not been able to sleep. I kept picturing you lost on the road somewhere.”
I pick up the spoon, using it to slowly stir the coffee. “I’m fine. I was just tired from all the driving and crashed at a hotel for a day.”
“Did you sanitize everything? Please tell me you didn’t touch the comforter.”
“The pandemic is over, Mom.”
I hear her shudder through the phone. “We almost lost you and now I feel I’ve lost you anyway…”
“I need this for me.”
She sighs. “I know. But it still kills me. I just want to hold you tight and never let go.”
“I’m twenty-four—not four.”
“You’ll always be my baby.”
My eyes roll as the waitress returns placing three plates in front of me. “I’ve got to go. My food just arrived.”
“Come back. Please.”
My fingers clench on my fork. “I-I can’t. I’m sorry. This is my second chance. My time to figure out what I want to do with my life.”