“So you’re judging me to be a bad guy just based on this goat situation?” he asked.
Why did it bother him? He didn’t know her. She was clearly just traveling, spending the night in Autre. He’d probably never see her again. Why did he care what she thought?
But everyone thought he was a good guy. Okay, sure he was the baby and his brothers and even a couple older cousins, at times, rolled their eyes about how spoiled he was. But he knew it was mostly because they were jealous. No one thought he was actually a bad guy. No one believed he was lazy.
“How am I supposed to base who you are on anything else?” the woman asked. “I don’t have any more data to use.”
Well, she had a point. Zeke was so used to spending time around people who’d known him, literally, his entire life, that he didn’t have to worry too much about making good first impressions.
“I’m a great guy,” he said.
She glanced at him with one brow up.
Okay, so maybe even bad guys said that they were good guys.
He elbowed Michael. “Tell her I’m a good guy.”
“He’s a good guy,” Michael said.
The woman didn’t reply. She also didn’t seem that impressed.
But even more, she didn’t seem concerned, or unimpressed, or really like she had any feelings about it whatsoever.
That almost bugged him more.
Why did he want her to have feelings? He wasn’t even specifying that they needed to be good feelings. He just wanted her to have feelings about this, or him, or something.
They were back at the motel.
Michael started for his truck and Zeke thought fast.
He focused on the woman. “Do you have any ibuprofen in your room?”
Now she at least seemed surprised. She thought about the question for a few seconds. Finally she nodded, “I do.”
“Can I have some?”
“I’m sure your paramedic friend has some.”
Michael opened his mouth, but Zeke shot him a frown. “He’s out.”
The woman looked from Zeke to Michael and back. “I’d guess the convenience store has some.” She pointed in that direction. About twenty yards behind Zeke.
“It’s way over there and my head is pounding.”
She put a hand on her hip. “You can’t wait till you get home?”
“My motorcycle is trash.”
So it wasn’t exactly trash. He wasn’t even sure that it wasn’t drivable. But he wanted something more from this woman than detached and dismissive. He wanted her to either tell him to fuck off or come on in.
Yes, he was generally well-liked. He was definitely spoiled. But he was something else that younger brothers tended to be experts at—he could be annoying to the point of making anyone snap.
“And your paramedic friend won’t give you a ride?”
“Michael is very busy. He can’t be using his work truck, and his work hours, to chauffeur a friend around.”
“There’s no one else you can call? I assume this town doesn’t have Uber or Lyft?”
“Nope, no taxis. Nothing like that.”
“And you have no friends.”
“Well as you’ve seen tonight, I’m kind of an asshole.”
She studied him for a long moment. Zeke just let her. He met her eyes directly. His head really was hurting, so if she did have ibuprofen in her motel room, he would absolutely take her up on it. But he was a thousand percent certain that she knew that wasn’t what he was looking for.
Thing was, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. A reaction more than anything. A smile, an outraged gasp, an exclamation of some kind. A moan.
That last one hit him out of the blue.
But then he thought about it. Yeah, a moan. He would absolutely take one of those.
Zeke was aware that Michael was still standing by his truck. He was off far enough that the conversation was mostly happening between the woman and Zeke, but Michael was there in case she felt uncomfortable. Or, honestly, if Zeke ended up needing a ride.
Which Michael was probably pretty sure he would.
Finally, after what felt like two hours of thought, the woman shocked Zeke when she said, “Okay. I’ll give you ibuprofen.”
“Awesome,” Zeke said sincerely. Regardless of what ibuprofen really meant.
“So I’m okay leaving you?” Michael asked.
Zeke waited for the woman to answer.
“I assume that as a first responder you wouldn’t leave me alone with an ax murderer.”
Michael chuckled. “No, ma’am. Even if I wasn’t a first responder, I think I’d try to keep people away from ax murderers.”
“Or really a murderer of any kind? I guess ax murderer is pretty specific,” she said, showing that hint of humor again.
“I would not leave you with a murderer of any kind,” Michael said. “He’s a good guy. And I mean, after all, you’re not a goat so you don’t have to worry about him trying to run you over, or being neglectful, or uncaring.”
“Fuck off,” Zeke muttered.
But the woman nodded. “I guess that’s a good point. He seems to think that I should be very concerned about him just because we’re both human beings. I assume that he would extend that same level of care and concern to whatever I might need from him.”
Zeke’s gaze snapped to hers.
That sounded dirty. He didn’t care what anyone said. That sounded dirty. And not just because he’d whacked his head earlier.
The woman’s face was completely impassive however.
He looked over at Michael. Surely his friend thought that sounded like innuendo.
But Michael was already climbing behind the wheel, giving them a quick wave over the top of the truck. “Goodnight.”
Zeke turned back to the woman, planning to ask her just what kind of needs she was talking about, but she, too, had already turned away and was walking toward the motel.
Well, that was where the ibuprofen was and he was starting to think some painkillers were a good idea. He followed her.
The woman unlocked the door to number one eleven.
One eleven was funny, considering the motel had thirty rooms.
The door swung in, the woman stepped inside, and he followed.
She shut the door and turned to face him with her back pressed against it.
“I’m not sure if I have ibuprofen, actually,” she said.
He lifted a brow. That was…interesting.
It occurred to him briefly that she had asked Michael if she was safe with Zeke.
But no one had asked if Zeke was safe with her.
She was tiny, but she might have a weapon. She might be a black belt in karate. She might be about to release toxic fumes into the room. All of those things would really suck because they would certainly even up the physical playing field here.
But if it was just one on one, he could totally take her.
His body should not have responded to that thought the way it did.
But there was no denying the heating and hardening he experienced.
Now that they were inside in full light, he realized that her eyes were a deep moss green. Her skin was fair, as if she rarely spent time outdoors. She was slim but her arms, in the sleeveless shirt, showed muscle definition. Either she worked out or she had a physical job.
He was willing to take a chance here that she wasn’t an ax murderer.