Forbidden Crush Page 5

  Mindy refilled my water and whistled between her teeth. “Gonna be honest with you. Didn’t think a little thing like you’d come close to finishing that meal.”

  “Told you I was starving.”

  “A hard day of work will do that.” Her expression softened. “Sorry about docking you an hour. If it were up to me I wouldn’t care that you were five minutes late, but the sheriff is a stickler, and he’s been keeping a close eye on Hawk.”

  I put a hand on my chest. “My fault, not yours. What’s up with him?” I asked. “Hawk, I mean.”

  The butch woman snorted. “Honey, there’s not enough time left in the day to explain that boy’s situation.”

  “What’s the short version?”

  “Stay away,” she said bluntly.

  I let out a laugh, but she wasn’t joking. She put down her pitcher of water and crossed her arms over her chest. “I see that look in your eye. All the girls get it, whether they’re from Eastland or out of town. Hawk is nothin’ but trouble to everyone who gets close to him. Keep your head down, put in your community service hours, and then go home.”

  She started stacking my plates as if the conversation was over.

  “What’s everyone so afraid of here?” I asked.

  She only snorted. “Very funny.”

  “I’m being serious. I’m just a stupid girl who got stuck here on her way back to Atlanta. Why is everyone walking around on eggshells?”

  Mindy looked hard at me. Deciding whether or not to say anything. There was fear in her eyes as she glanced outside, then over her shoulder.

  “The Copperheads,” she finally said. “They own this town. Not the sheriff. Not the judge. Sid. Their leader. Nobody does nothin’ without him knowing about it.” She shook her head. “Hawk learned that the hard way.”

  She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  “Do your hours,” she said slowly. “And then get the hell out of here.”

  *

  “Hey there sweet pea,” my dad said on the phone. “You got a minute?”

  I flopped down on my motel bed. “I’ve got all the time in the world. There’s nothing to do here in Eastland. Give me some good news.”

  I could tell by the pause that good news wasn’t coming. Dad always hesitated before telling me something I didn’t want to hear.

  “I called Jerome. Old buddy of mine. Remember him? With the mustache you used to make fun of?”

  “I don’t remember, dad.”

  “Aww, come on. He came to your graduation party. Bald guy with the wife he met in Vietnam.”

  “Sure, dad,” I said with dwindling patience. “What about him?”

  “He’s sheriff one county over from you. Place called Anilene. He told me Eastland’s off limits. Told me to avoid it if at all possible.”

  “Good to know that now,” I mumbled.

  “Jerome says they don’t do favors for outsiders there. The sheriff there keeps his cards close to his chest. Doesn’t respond to phone calls, let alone requests for favors. I wanted to try anyways, since you’re my girl, but Jerome made me promise not to.”

  “That sounds like a theme. This town has issues.”

  “Point is,” dad said with a sigh, “there’s nothing I can do about your situation. No favors to call-in. I’m sorry sweet pea, but I can’t get you out of your community service or get your license back.”

  I closed my eyes and lay back on the pillow. The blisters on my feet were beginning to throb. “There’s got to be something. Anything, dad. I don’t think I can stay here three weeks.”

  I heard my momma talking to him. He responded and then returned to the phone. “I’ve got another contact I haven’t talked to in a while,” he said reluctantly. “An old friend in Macon. I burned some bridges with him years ago, but I might be able to convince him to help. Give me a day or two to see what I can pull. I’ll bring him a bottle of bourbon. That always did the trick back in the day.”

  “Thanks dad,” I said. “I’m sorry to ask you for this.”

  Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew my dad was waving a hand dismissively. “Anything for you, sweet pea.”

  I went back to the motel lobby. Billy was snoring behind the counter. I coughed into my hand until he heard me and woke up with a start.

  “I need to stay here another night.”

  “Uh huh,” he said. “Want the week discount yet?”

  I slapped a $20 down on the counter. “Nope.”

  Even as hope began to fade, I was still praying this would be my last night in Eastland.

  9

  Hawk

  I only felt free, truly free, when my bike was between my legs.

  It was a 2013 Indian Scout, with midnight black tires and a burnt red finish. Indian Scouts were the redheaded stepchild of the biking world. They weren’t comfortable for long-distance riding the way Harleys were. They didn’t have the raw speed of a crotch-rocket, either. They barely even had room for saddlebags.

  But fuck, they were beautiful. And fun as hell to ride.

  I hugged the turn and pulled onto the frontage road, the same one Charlotte and I had cleaned today. I knew where the sheriff liked to set up his speed trap, and it was half a mile back. Everything ahead of me was freedom.

  The tires gripped the pavement as the bike shot forward with easy speed. Even a slow bike was faster than any car. The wind blew back my hair and cooled me down, and tears pressed out of the corners of my eyes. This time of year was the best for riding. It was still cool, and there weren’t clouds of gnats in the air.

  I raced along the road while the bike purred between my legs.

  I knew I wouldn’t feel this free for long. I had to enjoy it while I could. For all I knew, this could be the last time I ever rode. Sid could put an end to all my waiting tomorrow.

  Fuck, I thought, he could do it tonight.

  I’d made some questionable decisions in the past week. I still wasn’t sure if they were mistakes, or the right thing to do.

  I guess the future will decide that. If there is a future.

  I had to finish my community service and get out of town. Obviously the Copperheads would probably kill me before then, but a man had to have a goal. Something to keep him crawling out of bed in the morning. Something to live for.

  Charlotte’s something to live for.

  Since she showed up for community service this morning, she’d occupied a sizable portion of my attention. Smooth legs and a heart-shaped face. A badger’s attitude in a tight little body. I shouldn’t have had such strong feelings for her so soon. It was probably just lust. She was a hot thing, the best piece of ass to walk into this town since I could remember. I wanted to fuck her. That was all.

  Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about her smile?

  No, I thought stubbornly, swerving gently to avoid a pothole. I couldn’t do it. Fuck, dude. Why was I even thinking about it? If something happened between us and Sid found out…

  But I couldn’t shake this feeling.

  My bike brought me to the same place it did every night. I kicked out the stand and leaned my bike over. Just like I did every night, I took a few seconds to collect myself before walking through the gates.

  Into the cemetery.

  10

  Charlotte

  Just like the night before, a knock came on my motel door while all was dark and silent.

  I blinked awake, my eyes scanning the room. A shadow shifted underneath the front door. Someone was there.

  Knock knock knock.

  Three hard knocks. A wave of deja-vu came over me. I’d seen this before.

  “Coming,” I called, rushing out of bed to reach the door.

  The door swung open before I could reach for the handle. Hawk stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. The moonlight reflected off his colorful tattoos, and his eyes glistened with a smile that didn’t touch his lips.

  “Hey, Peaches” he said in that smooth, sexy voice.

  “What are you d
oing here?” I asked.

  “I’m here for my jacket.”

  I stepped up to him. I knew how this went. “You didn’t come for your jacket, did you?”

  Now the smile did touch his lips. “No.”

  Just as he had in my last dream, he kissed me with an urgency that took my breath away. He walked me backward while we kissed, hand sliding over my body with an eagerness to touch me. I fell back on the bed, bouncing softly. This time I was wearing a thin nightgown with nothing underneath.

  His hand slid between my legs. “You’re wet for me,” he said in his deep voice.

  Before I could respond, he dropped to his knees and spread my legs apart. His long tongue lashed out, licking my sex from the bottom to the top like it was a popsicle. He let out a moan as if it was the sweetest flavor he’d ever tasted.

  “I could eat you all night,” he said with a smile.

  I pushed up to my elbows so I could watch him go down on me. His beautiful face worked between my pussy lips, tongue kneading my inner walls. Moonlight through the window made his tattoos dance as his arms flexed and clenched while his fingers dug into my skin, holding me down.

  “Right there,” I moaned as his tongue found its way to my clit. It swirled around it, pressed hard against it, then swirled around some more. “There! Right there!”

  Hawk vibrated with silent laughter as he enjoyed my groans of pleasure. A finger curled inside my pussy, but only an inch. Back and forth he moved it, in and out, the smallest amount each time, and I squirmed underneath his grasp. Finally, when I couldn’t take it any longer, his finger shoved far into the depths of my pussy and curled back up against my inner wall. The orgasm was sudden and intense, like electricity coursing through my veins.

  Hawk rose and removed his shirt. Tattoos covered the muscles of his chest and abdomen, all the way down into his happy trail. He unbuckled his belt and his lusty grin deepened.

  “I think you’re ready for something real,” he said as he unzipped his pants. “I’m going to make you mine, Peaches.”

  He pulled himself out…

  *

  My alarm was an oppressive intruder, pulling me back into the waking world. This time my groan was annoyed as I slapped at it on the bedside table.

  “At least I’m waking up on time,” I muttered to myself.

  I stared at the ceiling for a long time, the memory of Hawk still fresh. I could almost feel his fingers digging into my skin. Only when his smell faded from my nose did I finally crawl out of bed.

  It was nice to be able to take my time this morning without being in a rush. I let the hot water wake me up as I washed my hair. The best thing about having my hair cut short was that it dried quickly. When I grew my hair out it took hours to get completely dry. I had to schedule my entire day around it. Short hair? No problem.

  And the best part about waking up early? I had time to put on socks and sneakers. The blood blisters on my feet weren’t going to get any worse.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  Unknown: Don’t be late this time

  I frowned at the screen before composing a response.

  Me: I’m literally walking out the door right now. You won’t be docking me an hour today!

  Unknown: Ain’t up to me, Peaches

  I felt a tingle of excitement when I realized it was Hawk instead of Mindy. After my dream, it felt like getting asked out on a second date. Proof that it wasn’t just a one-night stand.

  But last night was just a dream. “It’s not real,” I told myself as I headed out the door.

  The walk into town was refreshing at this time of morning. Everything was calm. Only a few birds were awake, and the cicada-like sound of the Georgia insects was a dim background noise. The walk got my blood flowing while I appreciated the sunrise glowing above the distant treetops.

  I never got a chance to relax like this in Savannah. Every hour of the day went into the business. I woke up early to buy the freshest supplies the moment the market opened, then packed and prepared them for the day. I had to research the best route for the food truck, all the stops we wanted to hit. The areas with the most foot traffic that we wanted to get to early to stake our spot. Then came the actual work on the truck when we opened at 11:00. We had some dead hours between lunch and dinner, but we couldn’t really leave the truck for very long. Sometimes I’d go for a jog, but not when the weather was hot because people didn’t want a woman covered in sweat preparing their food.

  Late hours were the busiest for us. We pulled in the most money sitting outside bars well into the night, feeding burgers to drunk people. Then, whenever the stream of customers slowed, we had to pack up the remains and give the truck a thorough cleaning. I was usually back in bed by midnight, and then up again before the sun rose to do it all over again.

  That made for a long day. Fulfilling, but still long. And without much time to stop and breathe.

  I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool morning air. Momma would have been proud of me for finding the silver lining in all this. Even if it only lasted until I got to town.

  The walk also gave me ample time to think about the dream. The first night could be explained away by the six-pack of beer, but last night I was sober as a nun. Granted, I couldn’t exactly control what I dreamed about. It didn’t work that way. But these dreams were so real. They left me feeling different the next morning. Like it had actually happened.

  They left me with feelings for Hawk.

  Just thinking of his name stirred something inside me. Hawk. He wasn’t the type of guy I normally went for. Scott was almost preppy, with a clean-shaven face and thick glasses. Heck, he even wore a button-down underneath his apron while working on the food truck. The thought of him getting a tattoo was too ridiculous to entertain. Like suggesting that a golden retriever play laser tag.

  But even though Hawk wasn’t who I normally found myself attracted to, he was attractive. Undeniably so. And the way he smiled at me, like he was covering up the thoughts he didn’t want to say out loud…

  I shivered. Get a hold of yourself, Charlotte. Today would hopefully be my last day in Eastland. The last thing I needed was a big old crush on one of the local bikers.

  I walked into town with enough time to stop by the diner and grab coffee. When Hawk pulled up in his truck at 7:58 I was sitting on the bench outside the community center sipping on my drink and feeling good about myself.

  He leaned out the open window. “Mornin’, Peaches,” he said in his easy drawl.

  “Good morning!” I said cheerfully as I handed him a coffee. “Told you I wouldn’t be late. I don’t know how you take your coffee, so I stirred in a little bit of cream and sugar.”

  “That was nice of you.” He took a sip and winced. “A little bit of cream and sugar?”

  “Yeah, sorry. It’s probably more like chocolate milk than coffee at this point.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  I climbed in the passenger seat. “How’d you get my number?”

  “Mindy gave it to me.”

  It felt like a silly question once it had been asked and answered. Where else would he have gotten it? “Speaking of Mindy, where is she?”

  “Busy at the diner. Said to clock ourselves in and out from now on, so long as she can trust us.” He shifted the truck into drive and then nodded down at the floor. “Nice shoes.”

  I pulled up my jeans leg and wiggled my feet. “Thanks. $15 at Target.”

  “Fancy. And congrats on being on time,” he added. “We’ll make a model citizen of you yet.”

  “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

  He smiled, which made wrinkles appear at the corner of his piercing eyes. It was the same smile he’d given me in my dream while unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper…

  I shook it off as we drove down the road.

  It was the same road we’d worked on yesterday, except today we were cleaning the other side of the road. It was much, much easier work
with proper shoes. I could actually focus on stabbing the trash and depositing it in my bag.

  “You’re getting the hang of this,” Hawk said after an hour.

  “High praise,” I joked. “I can pick up trash like a pro. Maybe I ought to make a career out of it.”

  Hawk picked up a plastic straw, tossed it in his bag, and then pointed at me with his stick. “I noticed you’re not limping. Guess your ankle’s better.”

  “And I noticed that you’re not wincing every time you take a deep breath. Guess you don’t have any cracked ribs?”

  “Nope,” was all he said.

  My curiosity was piqued, so that answer was not satisfactory. “So, was it a bar fight that landed you in jail the other night?” I’d given it some thought while trying to fall asleep last night. Sure, it was the stereotypical thing to assume a guy with tattoos and a motorcycle got into a bar fight, but it would explain both why he was in jail and why he was licking his wounds.

  “Nope,” was all he said again.

  I watched him for a few steps. I thought he was telling the truth. Whatever reason he was out here, it wasn’t for a bar fight.

  “Why’s your nickname Hawk?” I asked.

  “Who said it’s a nickname?”

  I gave him a level look. “Your parents named you Hawk?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “But my last name’s Hawkins.”

  Ahh. One mystery down. “What’s your first name?”

  “Simone,” he said with a straight face. “Like the gymnast.”

  I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. “Careful, or I will start calling you Simone.”

  “Call me whatever you want, Peaches. Any other questions, or is this interrogation over?” He grinned, and I grinned with him.

  “What do your tattoos mean?”

  “They mean all sorts of things.”

  I pointed at his arm. Three vibrant orchids were tattooed on his bicep, above the number 3194. “Got a thing for orchids?”