I’ve been off-roading once before, with Clay and Sebastian, but it wasn’t raining or muddy. And now, with the storm taking a short break but still brewing over us and this truck knocking me around so hard that my adrenaline is not only pumping but my face aches from the smile that refuses to falter, it’s a lot different—in more ways than one. I’m fairly confident we’re going to tip over at any time, but I haven’t asked him to slow down or turn around once.
“Ah, here we go!” Kingston’s voice carries an unsettling excitement, and when I follow his gaze, my entire body stiffens.
“No!” I’m shouting, despite my growing smile. “No way! We’ll flip! Or get stuck at the bottom! Or, I don’t know…die!”
He revs the engine, rattling us around even more as he speeds up and heads for a giant rock-covered hill with who knows what waiting on the other side.
Now I have the dirty mouth. “Oh, fuck!” I lower my head, afraid to watch, but one of his hands leaves the wheel to raise it back up.
“I’ve got you,” he tells me, his eyes sincere.
I’d mention, again, how I’d prefer his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, but I’m okay with us flipping or wrecking…as long as he’s looking at me like this when we do.
And rather than placing the hand touching me back on the steering wheel, where his other is nearly bending the metal circle with his deadly grip, he places it in mine. And I still don’t comment on the side of safety, or stop him. I clutch his hand tightly in mine as we jostle around the cab while climbing the hill, my eyes now wide open.
When we smack down at the bottom, his hand leaves mine to control the wheel. There’s an idea, I think, snickering to myself.
After several pushes on the gas, where I can hear the tires uselessly spinning faster and faster but he obviously can’t, he gives me a look of humored desperation.
“We seem to be stuck.”
I stare at him, “Ya think?” on the tip of my tongue. But I never say it, because we both just end up laughing.
“So,” he says between attempts to catch his breath, “you’re the off-roading expert. What do you suggest we do now?”
“We could wait out the rest of the storm that’s coming, like a couple of pansies, or…” I open my door, sucking in the fresh, damp air. “Make a break for it while we can and find something to put under the tires for traction. Come on.”
I jump out.
And land flat on my ass.
Kingston gets out and walks over, not landing in the mud on his ass. He stands over me, shaking his head and laughing wildly.
I try to get up several times, each one unsuccessful albeit an undeniable source of amusement for him. Since there’s apparently no way I can gain my footing in the mud, I finally just give up, lying flat on my back and doing what any humiliated girl would do: flap my arms and legs to start making the best damn mud angel in the world.
Chapter 18
“I can’t go in the house like this,” I grumble. I’m caked in now-hardened mud, sitting on my raincoat and trying not to touch anything so I don’t ruin his new truck.
“I can carry you,” he chuckles. “I’ll just take off my boots before I go inside.”
Eventually, when he’d stopped laughing, Kingston had helped me to my feet…managing to keep himself upright the entire time. Oh, I’d tried to pull him down and force him to make mud angels with me, but I’d failed. So I’m not about to be defeated, once again, by letting him carry me inside! I do have some dignity left…somewhere under all this mess.
“I’ve got it.” I get out of the truck, clumps of dried earth breaking off with my movements, and start to march around to the side of the house. “You go ahead inside.”
My plan is to strip down to my bra and panties on the back patio and cover myself quickly with my raincoat—which is exactly what I’m starting to do, one shoe and sock off, when a blast of freezing-cold water hits my back.
“What the—!” I shriek, making the mistake of turning around and giving him a wide-open target to spray with the hose. “Have you lost your mind!?” I use one hand to block my face, and move toward him in hopes of snagging the hose away.
“This will be much easier if you stand still,” he laughs, continuing to douse me.
“Kingston,” I start, realizing I don’t know his middle name or whether he even has one, “Hawthorne! I am going to kill you!”
“Almost done,” he replies calmly, as though he’s just watering flowers or something.
Oh, forget it. I give up and start spinning slowly, actually helping him finish the job. It’s too late to do anything else at this point. It’s not like I’d be able to wrestle the hose from him.
“You do realize I’m an even bigger mess now? The added bonus of me dripping through the house? Great idea.”
He doesn’t reply as he walks over and turns off the water. He then just stands there, frozen in place and gawking at me.
“What? We gonna wait until I drip-dry?”
With a sensuous gleam in his eyes and satisfaction playing at the corners of his mouth, he raises both hands, holds up all ten fingers, and winks.
What the…?
I let my gaze follow to where his has lowered, looking down at myself. My soaked shirt, no longer covered in mud, is now completely see-through. And my lacy yellow bra is doing nothing to conceal my erect nipples.