“Ta-Da,” I say and she laughs.
“What am I looking at?”
I set the bag of food down. “A picnic… on the side of the interstate.”
“A picnic?” she asks, arching a brow at me and I shrug.
“Or we could go back inside and let sweet Robyn wait on us.”
She stares at the door of the restaurant for a moment before grabbing my hand and climbing in the bed of the truck. As soon as she’s situated, I climb up behind her and start passing out our food.
“So,” she prompts as she unwraps her sandwich. “What do you do when you’re not out saving women?”
“I work at the club’s bike shop.”
“And that’s your dream job?” she asks before taking a bite of her sandwich and I tilt my head from side to side.
“Kind of… I’d really love to build custom bikes and restore old ones.”
She nods. “That’s really cool and it sounds like something you could easily incorporate into the work you already do. Would your president be on board to add another aspect to the business?”
“I think he would be but I haven’t asked.”
“Why not?” she asks and I sigh as I grab a chip, popping it into my mouth as I look up at the interstate.
“I don’t know… not good timing, I guess.”
“That’s bullshit,” she proclaims. I whip my head toward her and narrow my eyes as she covers her hand with her mouth. “I’m sorry. That probably sounded really bitchy but in my opinion that’s just something you tell yourself to feel better about the fact that you haven’t gone after what you want.”
I flinch at her honesty as I clench my fists. “What do you do then if you’ve got all the goddamn answers?”
“I run my own company,” she answers, challenging me with her gaze to be rude to her again and I suck in a breath and let it out before running my hand through my hair.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
She nods. “It’s okay. I’m sorry if I was harsh but I meant what I said.”
“Understood,” I say, nodding in agreement. “What does your company do?”
“I’m a jewelry designer.”
My eyes widen as I look up at her. “Yeah? Anything I would have heard of?”
“You been buying a lot of nice jewelry lately?” she asks, arching a brow before she drops her gaze to her food. I laugh and shake my head.
“Uh… no, not exactly.”
She shrugs. “Probably not, then.”
“That’s cool, though,” I reply as I lean back against the side of the truck bed. “I’d love to see some of your designs.”
Meeting my gaze, the corner of her lip twitches. “Not today.”
“Touché.”
“You know about art?” she asks as she mirrors my pose, leaning back against the side of the truck, and studies me. I shrug.
“A little bit. My mom is an artist.”
“Yeah?” She sits forward, her eyes lighting up. “What does she make?”
“All sorts of things - pottery, jewelry, paintings, sculptures… the list goes on. My dad built her a little shop in their backyard and she’s got it full to the brim with stuff.”
She grins. “That’s so cool. Does she sell her stuff anywhere?”
“Yeah. She’s got a little table at the artists market on the weekends. Does pretty well for herself actually. Not that she cares. She’s a total hippy - all about the joy of creating.”
“She sounds a lot like my mom,” she replies, sadness creeping into her tone and I reach over to grab her hand. She blinks and her gaze meets mine, almost as if she was pulled from her memories by my touch.
“What was your mom like?”
A wistful smile tugs at her lips as she looks over my shoulder. “Amazing. She was a musician, a business woman, and like I said, a total hippy but to me, she was just the woman who tucked me into bed at night, danced around the kitchen with me while we baked cookies, and told me everyday that I could do anything I dreamed up. She always urged me to reach for the stars. My dad always says that she would light up any room she walked into and people just adored her.”
“Oh, so that’s where you get it from,” I whisper and her gaze snaps to mine as tears gather in her eyes.
“Thank you for saying that.”
I nod. “I meant it. There’s something special about you, Juliette. I’d have to be blind and stupid to not see it.”
“Funny,” she muses, her gaze flicking over my face like she’s trying to memorize me and my heart pounds in my chest. “I was just thinking the same about you.”
Chapter Eleven
Juliette
“I’m bored,” I whine, scrunching up my face as I lean forward and turn the music down. Sinking back into my seat, I turn to the window. We’ve been back on the road for a few hours now but my ass hurts from this seat and I can only stare at the trees along the side of the road for so long before I lose my mind. Sawyer laughs, drawing my attention back to him with the warm, addictive sound.
“Is there something you’d like me to do about that?”
I flash him a grin. “Let’s play twenty questions.”
“Oh, God,” he groans as he throws his head back and rolls his eyes. Arching my brow, I cross my arms over my chest and pin him with a look. He may be perfectly content with not talking as he drives us back to Louisiana but since I’m not able to turn my phone on and I didn’t think far enough ahead to bring a book with me, I need him to help entertain me. Glancing over at me, he sighs. “Fine, but no stupid questions.”
“And what exactly constitutes a stupid question?”
“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, imitating a typical teenage girl voice as he grabs a lock of his hair and twirls it around his finger. I throw my head back and laugh.
“What’s your sign?” he continues. “What’s your favorite food? Shit like that.”
Once I get control of my giggles, I nod and meet his gaze as I try to make my face serious, giving him a mock salute. “Got it. No stupid questions and absolutely no fun will be had in this truck.”
“You’re lucky I’m driving and can’t do anything about that comment,” he growls through the grin on his face and my heart thunders in my chest as the heat builds in his eyes. From just one look, I’m imagining myself stripping naked in front of him and letting him have his way with me. My nipples pebble and warmth flushes over my skin as I clamp my lips together, pretending to be thinking of my first question.
“Okay,” I whisper before clearing my throat. A question pops into my mind and I flash him a smile. “If everything in your house had to be one color, what color would you choose?”
He glances over at me with wide eyes before shaking his head. “You sassy little shit.”
“What?” I ask, trying my best to look innocent as I fight back laughter. “It wasn’t one of your banned questions. Answer, please.”
“It absolutely was one of my banned questions!”
I shake my head. “No, I remember clearly. You said I couldn’t ask you your favorite color and I didn’t.”