Driving Chloe Wild: A Smoke Jumper Short Story by Marsh Anne

Author:Marsh, Anne [Marsh, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Anne Marsh
Published: 2014-07-14T16:00:00+00:00

***

It was a nine-hour drive from Vegas to Strong. Six hours into the drive, Adrian’s stomach announced it was time to stop and eat. Chloe’s stomach let out an answering growl. He was amazed he could hear it. She’d spent the last two hundred miles belting out country tunes at the top of her lungs. A smile tugged at his mouth. She could actually sing, which was more than he could say for himself. Listening to her hadn’t been a hardship.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” she allowed. He couldn’t tell if she was being polite or if she was remembering their agreement. After they ate, he got back in his truck and headed out to Strong. She stayed here. Wherever here was.

He spotted a restaurant up ahead and decided fate had weighed in. Someone had perched an enormous windmill on top of the restaurant, because clearly a billboard was insufficient advertising. The place also sported enough neon that even Vegas wouldn’t have been ashamed. Ten-foot letters announced that the house specialty was pea soup. Hopefully, there was something else on the menu. Steak. A hamburger. Any red meat would do. Since the place also had an attached hotel, he could make sure Chloe had a place to spend the night.

It was perfect.

“Maybe they have steak.” He guided the truck into parking spot close to the door where he could keep an eye on their things while they ate.

“Pancakes,” Chloe said decisively. “With extra butter and syrup.”

“Whatever you want,” he said. She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret.

“I need to change,” she announced and he had to agree. If they went inside with her looking like that, they’d be fielding stares. Plus, they’d probably have to get an extra seat for the dress.

She grabbed a handful of clothes from her suitcase and then crawled into his backseat to change with a strict admonishment for him to not peek. Hell, if she’d had second thoughts about his not being a gentleman, she needed to find herself another ride. While she stripped down and re-dressed, he tucked an explosion of clothes back into her suitcase. Maybe she’d sat on the damned thing to get it to close, because he had no idea how she’d gotten so much stuff into the suitcase in the first place. She had the softest, silkiest things, all tangled up with lace-covered bits and pieces. Things to get a man to thinking, although he had a sinking sensation that she could be sporting a flour sack and he’d still be thinking. She got under his skin.

When she finally emerged, hair standing on end, she wore a pair of cut-off shorts and an old I love Vegas T-shirt. She also sported a pair of pretty kick-ass boots herself. He didn’t look at her long, bare legs for more than a minute. Or three. He had his limits.

Instead of staring more, he set Momma Cat up with Purina, checked the water, and turned to Chloe.

“Let’s eat,” he said gruffly. “My treat.”

And then, when she gave him a suspicious look, he added, “Jesus.

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