“There’s my foul-mouthed sailor.”
Leaning down, he nudged my shoulder with his. Then he draped his arm over me and urged me toward the exit as he tossed my tea in the garbage and then hiked my bag up on his shoulder.
When we came out of the library, there was a dark blue pickup double-parked on the sidewalk.
Blane opened the door. “Your chariot awaits.” He slipped in the driver’s seat and buckled up. “You can take the boy out of the swamp, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the boy.”
“I like the truck. I wouldn’t expect anything less masculine or chauvinistic.”
“Exactly. Stereotype much?”
He put the truck in gear and turned onto College Avenue, and then headed to the main road out of town.
“You good?” he asked, adjusting the heat and tilting the vent toward me.
I nodded. “You?”
I noticed he had a leather jacket on that shifted with his every movement, and I imagined his muscles flexing underneath.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“Yeah, but I’m not telling.”
“Okay, as long as you still promise not to rape me.”
Without warning, Blane whipped to the side of the road and threw the truck into PARK on the shoulder. His eyes were wide as he turned to me.
“Cate, I was joking, but I hope you know I would never do something like that. It was a bad joke.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?” He stared deep into my eyes as if he was trying to show me the secrets of life.
“Yeah, women throw themselves at you. No need for rape.”
When he sucked in a sharp breath and banged his hand into the steering wheel, I said, “Okay, that was a bad joke too.”
“Good, so we’re clear. I’m a good guy?”
“The jury’s still out, but at least we know you don’t take advantage of short, chunky girls in the woods.”
“Cate,” he growled.
“I’ll stop,” I said, only to shut him up. I didn’t think I would survive another minute on the side of the road in close quarters with the man of my dreams. The way the ends of his hair curled up and caught the moonlight hypnotized me.
Yep, this feminist is now an alpha-male basketball junkie.
Blane put the truck back in gear and pulled back in the lane. We continued driving in silence until he turned down a rural road, dark with no street lights, that seemed to lead into a farm.
“Can we be here?”
“Don’t worry.”
We bounced down the rutted dirt road, passing a pasture and a barn, and finally came to a stop outside a sports court. It looked so out of place, a cement blacktop in the middle of nowhere with a hoop erected on either side.
“What’s this?”
Ignoring my question, he said, “Come on,” and flung open his door.
I followed suit, my hand shaking a bit on the handle, my heart fluttering even harder. And it wasn’t just the thought we were trespassing that made me shiver all over.
Blane opened a trunk positioned at one side of the court and pulled out a basketball and a blanket. He tossed the ball all the way from the other side of the lawn and it whooshed through the hoop, nothing but net. But he didn’t go and retrieve the ball that bounced and rolled to the other side of the grass lining the court.
Instead, he came and took my hand to lead me to the center of the court. With a flick of his wrists, he arranged the blanket on the ground and then said, “Sit down.”
I did, surprised that the wool blanket kept my butt warm on the cold surface. Or maybe that was just my butt fat.
Blane dropped down behind me, straddling me before pulled me back against his chest. I went willingly, but held my breath.
This kind of stuff didn’t happen to me. This was reserved for the movies and pretty girls.
“Nice, right?” he asked, his chest humming against my back.
I felt every syllable float between us. We were so close, I could feel each ripple of his abs. Surely, he felt my body shaking with nerves, my heart beating a frantic pace.
When I gave a small nod, he said, “This is a booster’s house, so don’t worry.”
“Oh,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say.
“He lets us come out here, and he knows I keep the blanket.”
At that, I tried to pull away. Keep the blanket? All too quickly, I realized I was being introduced to the Stealer’s Grand Plan of Seduction.
“Stop!” he said, and kissed along my neck. Like a fool, I allowed him access when he was trespassing all my feelings.
“What is all this?”
“The Stealer’s Grand Plan of Seduction.” When I pulled away from him, he said, “You said it out loud just a few moments ago . . . like when I spoke my thoughts aloud when we first met.”
I scrambled to my knees and turned to glare at him.
“No grand plan,” he said with a grin, holding his hands in the air in surrender. “I’ve never brought a woman here.”