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“You’ve got to be shitting me!” I snap, glaring at the flat tire on my car. Well, Joanne’s spare car that she’s letting me use.
As a part of some of the youth programs in the prison, we were able to get our license, which was beneficial for us when we entered the outside world again. We were also made to finish school. At the time, I didn’t care for any of these things, but I’m suddenly very grateful now.
I’m a nervous driver, and every time I’m behind the wheel, I feel a strong anxiety building in my chest, but I have to get back out there. I have to find a job. I have to get back into life. I can’t rely on Joanne forever.
Now I’m staring at her car, wondering what the hell happened. Somehow, in the time since I’ve gotten out of it and walked the entire main street looking for a job, it has gotten itself a flat.
I don’t know how to change a damn tire.
Hell, I don’t even know what the ever-loving hell I need to do so.
“Need some help?”
I flinch and stand upright way too fast. I stumble backwards and a big hand curls around my arm before I hit the pavement and hauls me back up to my feet.
I look up, fumbling. “Shit. I’m so clumsy. Thank . . .”
I trail off when I get a look at the man who pulled me up. He’s probably the most terrifyingly beautiful creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Of course, I haven’t had a great deal of men to look at, but this one . . . wow.
He’s tall, like, easily six foot. His muscles practically make up the entirety of him. He’s ripped, probably from head to toe. He’s huge in build, with broad shoulders, big biceps and the strongest-looking forearms I’ve ever seen. He has tattoos running all the way up them, disappearing under his shirt and popping out again at his neck, reaching right up to his ear.
Holy crap.
Then there is that face. He’s the very meaning of tall, dark, and handsome. Add a little danger, and you’ve got the perfect man. His dark hair is messy atop his head. His face is shadowed with a light beard that only makes him look more rugged. He has the most incredible deep brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s got a chiseled jaw, full lips, and a scar through his eyebrow.
He’s incredible.
“Don’t mention it.”
He releases me and I steady myself, feeling my cheeks burn. Am I blushing? Good lord, someone make it stop.
“Need a hand?” he asks again.
“Oh, ah, yes please. My tire is flat. I’ve never had to change one before.”
He looks at me, like he’s surprised by that. “That so.”
I give him a sheepish smile. “That’s so.”
“Let me take a look for you. Name is Tanner. What’s yours?”
“Oh, ah, Callie.”
Tanner.
Holy hot.
He walks to the trunk of my car when I pop it open, and pulls out everything he needs. He gets to work undoing my flat and replacing it with the spare.
“How come you’ve never changed a tire?”
Because I’ve been in prison since I was sixteen.
“I’ve just not been in a situation where someone has had a flat, I suppose.”
His eyes flicker up in my direction, and then he focuses back on the car. “You new to town? Haven’t seen you around this area before.”
“No, I mean, well . . . I suppose. I used to live here when I was younger. I went away for a while.”
“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?”
Shit.
Shit.
“To, ah, California . . .” I hate lying. Despise it.
“Nice,” he murmurs, tightening the bolts before standing and putting the flat into the back of my trunk and closing it. “All done. You live around here?”
I nod. “Yeah, about ten minutes away. I’m just out today looking for a job.”
His brows go up, and he crosses those big arms. “Yeah, what do you do?”
“Anything. Literally, anything. I just want to work.”
He nods, and then says, “My sister owns a cafe. She’s looking for new staff. It’s over the road about two blocks down. It’s called ‘Cece’s Place’. Tell her Tanner sent you; she’ll no doubt be willing to talk to you.”
“Really?” I say, my voice going higher with my happiness. “Thank you so much.”
He shrugs. “Know how hard it can be to get a job around here.”
I smile and tuck the card into my pocket. “What do you do?”
“Mechanic. Ex-military. Few friends and I got a garage just around the corner. Keeps me busy.”
“That’s super cool.” I smile.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, studying my lips.
I’m suddenly very conscious of myself. Do I look good? Am I what men find attractive? I don’t even know what the style is these days.
The horrible truth is . . . I’m still a virgin.
I mean, I was when I went away, and obviously, I wasn’t going to sacrifice the V-card in prison. I don’t even know what a date feels like, let alone how it feels to be a with a man.
I do know that my body is very aware of the man standing in front of me. A dull ache is forming between my legs that is not going to leave me until I go home and make it disappear.
Yes, my body is ready for sex.
I just have no idea where to start.
“We’re havin’ a party this week, celebrating our first anniversary bein’ open. It’s for everyone. You want to get out, see the town and meet people, you’re welcome to come.”
Oh God. He’s inviting me out. I swallow, and say, “That sounds good.”
“Give me your number; I’ll text you the address.”
I give him my number. Jo got me a phone as soon as I got out, too. She said I’d never get a job if I didn’t have a way for people to contact me.
“Thanks, I’ll send you the address and then you’ll have my number, too.”
Oh boy.
“Great, thank you for all your help. I really appreciate it.”
He nods and says, “Catch you around, Callie.”
I watch him walk to his . . . motorbike! How did I miss that? It’s parked right in front of Jo’s car. I try not to eye him as he throws on a helmet and gets on the massive green machine and starts it. A loud rumble fills the street.
I keep my eyes on him as he disappears. Only when he has do I turn to the car.
Well, that was unexpected.
Maybe this isn’t going to be so scary after all.
~*~*~*~
“YOU ALREADY GOT A NUMBER?” Joanne cries, staring down at the card I’ve handed her. “How is this even possible?”
“I got a flat tire,” I tell her. “He fixed it.”
“You mean I got a flat tire.” She grins.
“Shit, yeah. I’ll get you another tire.”
She waves a hand. “Do not even worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. Now, tell me more about this mysterious guy. Was he hot? Rugged? Rich? Talk to me.”
“He was hot.” I nod. “Rugged. Rode a motorbike.”
“No shit!” she cries. “How awesome. Did he have tattoos?”
“All. Over. Him.”
“Oh God,” she squeals. “My poor vagina!”
I laugh. “Calm down over there. He invited me to some anniversary party for his garage, if you’re up to join in?”
“When?”
“On the weekend.”
“Do you think he has hot friends?”
“Honey, you’re married.”
She huffs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look. I’m totally in, anyway. I’ll check Patrick doesn’t have a date lined up, but I’m sure he doesn’t. I’m all over this.”
I grin.
“Tell me you’re going to climb that man like a damned tree?”
I snort. “Not . . . not likely.”
“Come on, you’ve been in prison for so long. You must be desperate for a man.”
I purse my lips. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one.”
Joanne doesn’t know this about me. She has no idea I’ve not been with anyone. To tell the truth, we all told tales when we were young, about having sex and being with men, but it was just that for me...a tale. The conversation hasn’t come up again since, obviously we had better things to talk about when she visited me in prison.
“Wait a second,” she gasps, putting her hands over her mouth and muttering through home. “You’re a virgin? But when we were sixteen you told me you and-”
I roll my eyes and cut her off. “I said what everyone was saying, that I’d done it. I haven’t. It’s no big deal.”
“Honey, I cannot believe you kept this from me. You need to do something about this, asap. You’re missing out.”
“I was planning on dealing with it soon . . .”
“Dealing with it.” She rolls her eyes now. “It’s not a naughty child; it’s something pretty important. Don’t just throw it at anyone, but honey, you need to throw it at someone. Say, like, a hot guy at a party on the weekend . . .”
“I’m certain he probably has girls every damned week of his life. It would be awkward. I don’t know . . . anything.”
Her eyes go wide. “Nothing?”
“Well, I’m not stupid. I know how everything works; I’ve read enough books to know what romance is, but when it comes to experience, I don’t have any.”
“What about that guy you were seeing before the accident . . . what was his name?”
“Joshua.”
She claps. “Yeah, him. You two made out all the time. Surely you went further than that?”
“I gave him a blow job.” I shrug. “He very clumsily fingered me. That was it.”
“Oh boy. This is just . . . oh boy.”
“Shocking, I know,” I mutter. “But I didn’t exactly have many opportunities in the last six years.”
Jo’s face falls. “Honey, I’m sorry. That was insensitive. Of course you didn’t.”
I smile at her. “Don’t sweat it. It’ll happen . . .”
“Well, if you want to know anything, I’m your girl. I mean, I’ve only been with Patrick, but I’d say I know enough to answer your questions. Besides we’re not in high school anymore. It’ll all come fairly naturally to you when you’re in the heat of the moment. My only advice? Let the man lead, and make sure he really, really, really gets you worked up before he throws it in.”
I snort, and then laugh. “Throws it in?”
“Well, you know, slips it in.” She giggles.
I shake my head with a grin. “I have a criminal record and yet I’m a virgin. What are the odds?”
“We’ll fix it for you. Don’t you worry.”
“Knock, knock.”
We both turn to see Patrick walking into the room. Patrick is . . . well . . . so damned perfect. In the clean-cut, always-wearing-a-suit kind of way. He’s well-off, no doubt about it. He runs his own company. He’s the handsome billionaire that all the ladies want. Hell, they write books about them, right?
Patrick, yes, he’s good-looking. From his well-styled, ashy-blond hair, to his blue eyes and chiseled features, right to his tall but well-built body. He’s rich. He’s confident. He’s no doubt what a lot of women are looking for.
He also farts during sex. I bet they don’t write that in the romance novels.
I bite my lip at the thought. As I study him and his slick grey suit, all I can imagine is the moment when that happened.
I bite my lip harder. Dammit, why did she have to tell me that?
“Callie, it’s wonderful to see you.” Patrick smiles.
It’s forced. We both know he doesn’t like me.
Whatever.
“You, too. How have you been, Pat?”
He hates Pat. Jo gives me big eyes over her shoulder, but I ignore them. This douchebag has never been my favorite kind of man for my bestie. I hate that she feels like she’s stuck with him. Nobody should ever feel like they’re stuck. Nobody. No matter the circumstances, there is always a way out.
I’ve learned that.
I’ve learned a lot of things.
“Wonderful. I was just dropping in to check if you’d like to go to dinner tonight, darling?”
He’s talking to Jo now, obviously. I want to cringe. Yuck. He’s so . . . fake. So sugary sweet.
He’s a wolf in lamb’s clothing, no doubt about it. There is something—there has always been something about this man. His power, for sure, but something else. A deep underlying bully lies within Patrick. I think Jo knows that. I think Jo knows that better than anyone, and that’s part of the reason she won’t leave. Is she afraid? If so, she won’t speak up.
She doesn’t say much about the man she decided to make her husband.
“Sure,” Jo says, but I see the way her body slumps slightly. She doesn’t want to go. I wish she’d tell me what was really going on. “What time?”
“I’ll come and pick you up at six. Can we have a word outside?”
She nods.
“Good to see you, Patrick,” I call, watching them walk out.
Ten minutes later, Jo comes back inside. She looks . . . withdrawn. Tired, even. Like whatever he just said crushed a little piece of her soul.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah, just the same old fight, you know? He wants me home. He likes to remind me of the power he holds. Of what I won’t have if I really leave him and move out on my own. That all these perks I’m still living with will no longer be. Of course he finishes it with an ‘I just miss you, darling. I want you home with me.’”
What a load of crap. “Is it really so bad that you can’t leave?”
She looks away for a brief second. “I want to make my marriage work. It’ll be fine. Let’s talk about what you’re going to wear on the weekend.”
Swift avoidance of the conversation there. Well played, really. “I’ll wear whatever you have to lend me.”
She laughs, but there is sadness in her eyes.
I wish she’d talk to me.
I really, really do.