My hand trembles because this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, and I know how messed up that is, considering the context. But Bull has constantly saved my ass when he didn’t have to. I want to thank him, but the last time I did that, things went south. And when Lotus offered him this phone, he was clearly uncomfortable. He doesn’t like to owe people. Besides his pride, I sense there is another reason for it.
So I nod instead, placing my cell back into my bag. I’m suddenly struck with an idea.
“Will you take a drive with me?”
He arches a brow, suspicion clouding his expression. “To where?”
Deciding to use his words back at him, I ask, “Do you always question everything?”
And in response, he does the same. “Yes. Especially when some strange woman asks me to take a drive with her.”
I can’t help but smile as I air quote. “You’ve seen me naked, Bull. I’m hardly some ‘strange woman.’”
However, when he tongues his upper lip while eating me up from head to toe, I drop my hands into my lap, suddenly wishing I had used another phrase.
He walks toward me slowly, bending forward and whispering into my ear, “I haven’t seen you completely naked.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I counter, “Not many people have.” And it’s true. I never take off all my clothes. The outfits I wear don’t leave much to the imagination, but the scrap of material covering my dignity makes all the difference. As for another man seeing me naked, the last time I had sex, I was drunk, and it was dark. Not my finest moment.
A heavy exhale leaves Bull, his hot breath burning me alive.
He pulls back, stopping inches from my face. His lips are so close to mine, all it would take is for me to shift slightly, and I could experience that sinful mouth again. But I don’t. I grip the sheets beneath me, and I measure my breaths as best I can.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I question hoarsely.
Bull nods, examining my face so closely, I dare not breathe. “I’ll go for a drive with you,” he clarifies, while my head bobbles uselessly.
I watch as he hunts through the dresser for a white T-shirt and slips it over his head. Covering all that inked skin should be a crime. Without thought, he takes off his sweats, giving me a glorious view of what he’s packing beneath his black boxer briefs.
Both his legs are also heavily tattooed, but he doesn’t give me a chance to admire them for too long because he’s stepping into ripped black jeans seconds later. I don’t conceal the fact I was checking him out because what would be the point?
Bull has this ability to read people. He may not know it, but I can see it when he looks at others and at me. He sizes everyone up, cataloguing everything he can about them, about their environment—just as any predator does.
He puts on socks and laces his motorcycle boots, then grabs a black hoodie.
I can’t help but notice he has zero belongings. Wherever he moved from, he didn’t bring much with him. His lack of possessions, as well as no contacts in his phone, leaves me with so many questions. I don’t have a budding social life, but I at least have a few numbers in my cell.
“Ready?” Bull asks, putting a hold on my conspiracy theories for now.
Grabbing my coffee, I give the black kitten a pat on the head. He barely moves, way too comfortable in his new home.
“Bye, Fluffball.”
I look at Bull and smile. “Fluffball? Is that his name?”
Bull raises his shoulders. “I guess so. I’ve given him plenty of opportunities to leave, but he won’t go.”
“I think he likes you,” I state, coming to a stand.
Bull appears surprised but also disgusted by my suggestion as he curls his lip. “Then I feel sorry for him.”
He’s not looking for any sympathy. He means it. He clearly doesn’t see what I do when I look at him. I don’t have a chance to correct him before he continues.
“Let’s bounce,” he says, putting on his hoodie. Nodding, I follow him out the door. We get into my truck and hit the road.
The music from the radio fills the silence as Bull seems content to look out the windshield. I keep my eyes on the road, which is harder than it sounds. I am drawn to Bull in ways I don’t understand. He hasn’t shared anything about himself with me, but I’m hoping that will change very soon.
“Does it hurt?” Bull asks after a long stretch of silence.
“Does what hurt?” I question, keeping my eyes forward.
“Your neck. You still have bruises from when…” He trails off, leaving his sentence unfinished.
Instantly, I touch the side of my throat where that bastard’s hands almost squeezed the life from me. If not for Bull, I would hate to think where I would be. “Not anymore.”
“Did you report it to the police?”
Shaking my head, I return my focus to the road.
“Why not?”
Clenching the wheel, I shrug. “They’ll ask too many questions, and besides, a stripper getting attacked isn’t high on their priority list.” Although I don’t see myself as a stripper, no matter what I say, the police will just think it’s some client I pissed off because I didn’t give him a hand job under the table.
I also didn’t want to report it because of the way Bull responded when I told him the cops were coming.
He was involved, so if I report it, they’ll ask him questions, and I don’t want to involve him in any more of my shit after everything he’s done for me.
“You’re not worried he’ll come back?”
“Of course, I am, which is why I was thinking of talking to Carlos.”
A grinding fills the truck. I don’t read into it.
“I don’t want to leave Lotus, but you’re right when you said he was out for blood. He knew me, but the question is, why would he want me dead?”
Needing a change in pace, I ask, “Do you have any siblings? I have a brother, but he left years ago. So it’s just me and, um, Jordy.” My son, not cat, I silently add.
Something shifts in the air.
Bull doesn’t reply, and just when I think he won’t answer, he says, “No. I do not.”
That is definitely a touchy topic for him, so I don’t press. “What about your parents?”
“What about them? I haven’t spoken to them in years. Mom found comfort in prescription pills. While my dad found his happily ever after in a woman half his age. But I don’t blame them.”
“Oh?” I question because they don’t sound like very supportive parents. I should know.
“Everyone has their reasons, Tiger. We all deal with life differently.”
That doesn’t really answer my question, but I decide to let it go because when I turn left onto a deserted gravel road, I need a moment to compose myself. I haven’t been here in so very long, but the feelings this place evoke in me are just the same.
The trailers are decayed and barely standing, but the homey ornaments like gnomes, potted plants, and wind chimes all hint that regardless of their run-down condition, they are someone’s home—just as they once were mine.
I continue driving until I get to the last trailer on the right. It’s obvious no one lives here anymore. The open door, attached by only one hinge, flaps in the wind, and all but one window is smashed. I park the truck and kill the engine, unable to make eye contact with Bull.