for the ladies, or I will tear you a new asshole.”
Lessons from the great Larry Cannon.
My sister, Abby, is on the flighty side, her feet going one way, her head in the clouds drifting somewhere else, and I always look out for her. Nina’s level of accident-prone is Abby to the tenth power. If Pops knew I let her travel on her own, he’d be up my ass so fast I wouldn’t be able to sit for a month.
I value my ass.
When I pass the sign into Waipu, I scan the one-horse town, hoping Nina’s ride took at least one scenic stop along the way and didn’t drive as surprisingly fast as this tin can allowed. The thing shook and rattled whenever the needle hit eighty, but it didn’t overheat.
The main street is quiet, dotted with wooden storefronts and the odd person carrying a shopping bag. A boy rides by on his bike, his dog beside him with its tongue lolling while it keeps time. When I pass a girl bent over ninety degrees under the weight of her bags, I blow out a breath, relieved. Nina’s blue pack is hitched on her back, her smaller one hooked over the front of her shoulders and cradled against her chest. Her chest that is probably sore as hell.
I pull over to the side, releasing my seat belt and shoving the door in one swift motion. My first few steps are awkward, my foot dragging the way it does, but I recover quickly and stop in front of her prone shape. “You must really have a thing for sidewalks,” I say.
I hear, “Shoot,” and some mumbling, but she doesn’t stand up. “Yeah, well, you know me,” she says to my feet. “Love the asphalt.” She tilts her head to peer up at me. “What are you doing here, Sam?”
Being this close, I can tell she’s holding her front pack away from her chest, which is probably why she’s doubled over and walking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I move behind her and bend toward her ear. “I’ll answer your question when I get these packs off your shoulders. Deal?” I can practically hear her thinking as she scrunches her face in that adorable way of hers.
Finally, she groans. “Deal.”
She shimmies the front pack over her arms and lets it fall to the ground. I reach around her shoulders to find the clasp at her chest and unclick it while she undoes her waist strap. The dick I am, I let my thumbs graze her neckline to touch her smooth skin again. A soft puff escapes her lips.
Grabbing the pack from behind, I ease if off and drop it at my feet. “Better?” I ask.
She arches her back and rolls her shoulders. “Much, thanks.” She swings her torso from side to side like she’s doing an exercise video. When she’s done, she cocks her head. “I get why you ended up at the first hostel. A strange coincidence, but I get it. But this?” She motions to me and to my car. “This is creepy. Did you follow me?”
I run my hand along my neck, glancing away, then back at her. “Truth?”
“Truth.”
“Yeah, so, my grandfather has this thing about women. I won’t get into it. He’s a little chauvinistic to say the least. But if he knew I let a girl like you travel on her own, he’d string me up by my balls.”
Her eyes widen then fall heavy as her gaze dips down my body, landing squarely below my waist. “Sounds painful,” she murmurs. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
My dick lengthens automatically.
I’m a teenager all over again when I’m around this girl, those eyes, and that damn look. I grab her smaller pack and hold it just so, making sure I block my growing hard-on. “Seriously painful,” I say. “No one messes with my pops.” God, I want to jump her. The taste I stole earlier has only heightened my attraction. “Anyway, when I heard you left and where you were headed…” I exhale, wishing I didn’t sound like such a douchey stalker. “I decided to look for you.”
With her view now blocked by my strategic placement of her bag, she looks up at my face, crosses her arms, and grips her elbows. “Okay, that’s maybe a little less weird. Maybe. But what did you mean, just now—a girl like me?”
To avoid embarrassing her further by reliving the boob-flashing thing, I tread lightly. “Look, I heard what