Her lips tightened when she heard the officer laughing as he casually leaned against her car door. Edging to the end of the trunk, closer to the driver’s side, Ginny could finally hear what the officer was saying, then wished she hadn’t.
“My wife would divorce me if I didn’t pull off for her to use the restroom.”
Gavin told the officer what she had been doing! She was never going to let him win Name the Celebrity again.
“I’ll radio ahead. Owen would have caught you when you crossed the state line. He takes it as his personal mission to catch any BOLO going through his section. Anytime one of his ex-wives needs a new car, he has his brother, the judge, make sure it’s up for auction. I’ll give you my card; if you get pulled over again, dispatch can fax them that the BOLO was removed.”
Ginny promised herself to pay attention to the name of the next county they passed through so she could make an anonymous call to the FBI to report the shakedown going down in the small town.
“You can return to your vehicle.” The officer’s permission wasn’t given with the same good, old-boy friendliness he gave to Gavin.
Pretending a dignity she didn’t feel, Ginny got back in the car.
Flashing lights behind her car illuminated the interior, showing Gavin’s locked jaw.
“I don’t know what you’re so angry about. I was the one being laughed at.” Offended, she mimicked his locked jaw.
“One more word … Just one,” he threatened.
Her lips opened, preparing to further air her grievances.
“Do it”—he narrowed his eyes on her—“and see what happens.”
Sitting forward in her seat, she thought about zipping her mouth and throwing the key away again, but she didn’t want to chance her luck. So far, today sucked … other than the hours she spent enjoying every second she was spending with him.
Losing her self-righteous indignation by the time he was doing seventy on the interstate, Ginny turned the music on, bopping her head to one of her favorite songs.
“You’re going to give yourself whiplash,” he warned.
Taking it as a good sign that he was talking to her again, Ginny broke her vow of silence. “Can you name the singer before I count to ten?”
“No.”
“Come on … You’re not trying,” she heckled.
“Billy Idol.”
“Lucky guess.” Ginny playfully turned toward him. “The next one is mine,” she told him as the music ended and another one started playing. She only had to listen to the first beat. “Cher.”
“You’re cheating.”
Placing a hand on her chest, as if she were offended, Ginny didn’t miss the flash of his white teeth as he tried not to smile. It was more like a grimace, but she wasn’t above taking what she could get out of him.
“I don’t call it cheating. I call it winning.”
“Still cheating.”
“Nope, I disagree,” Ginny said in a sing-song voice.
She turned serious when Gavin slowed to take an unlit exit.
“This is where you’re meeting Jesus?” Ginny apprehensively watched the dark, winding road ahead as Gavin drove. She didn’t see any lights from businesses or homes. The spooky factor had her rubbing one of her little charms as Gavin decreased his speed to pull off the two-lane road and into a closed gas station. The outside was boarded up with sheets of wood on the front windows. Gavin parked next to one of the pumps that didn’t have a digital cover.
“How well do you know this Jesus?” she whispered when he brought the car to a standstill.
“I’ve met him a few times. You’re safe, Ginny; he’s a Last Rider.”
Gavin gave her a surprised look at her sigh of relief. “You trust him just because he’s a Last Rider?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“Most of The Last Riders aren’t sterling citizens.”
“Most sterling citizens have feet of clay.”
Looking over her shoulder as headlights came up behind them, she wasn’t aware of the penetrating way he was watching her.
“Is that him?” Turning her head back to Gavin, she found his gaze on her.
“Yes. He has Neon with him.” Taking leather gloves out of his jacket, he put them on before reaching for the door handle and getting out of the car, leaving her alone inside.
With the music playing, Ginny couldn’t hear what they were saying as she saw two men get off their motorcycles, wearing Last Rider jackets and black gloves. One of them went to the gas pump next to her car and slid a key into the side. Taking the nozzle from the pump, he handed it to Gavin, who was standing by her tank.
As Gavin pumped the gas, the men returned to their bikes, taking out plastic bags that they placed on the trunk of her car.
Ginny felt the car move when Gavin removed the nozzle from the gas tank. She watched the entire interaction between the three men, noticing how Gavin didn’t speak two words to the other men and the space they kept from him.
Gavin took the bags from on top of the trunk as one of the men placed his key back into the pump. Then Gavin waited until the two men were riding away before opening the door. Inside, he handed her the bags before starting the car.
Sorting through the bags, Ginny divvied up the contents. Placing two bottles of water into the cup holders, she took out one of the prepacked sandwiches, a bag of plain chips, and a chocolate bar, giving the rest of the bag to Gavin.
“I thought you were starving?”
“I am.” Opening the sandwich, she took a bite as she opened the chips.
“There’s more sandwiches and chips.”
“I’ll take what’s left after you pick.” Taking a chip, she opened one of the bottled waters.
“What if I wanted the turkey that you took?”
“There are two more in there. You can have them.”
Gavin took out the only club sandwich that was easily twice the size of the one she had taken. Breaking it apart, he handed half to her.
“No, thanks. I—”
“I know you like subs. Take half.”
“How do you know I like subs?”
“Dirty Dan’s isn’t the only place you frequent. You like Geno’s Subs.”
“I take it Shade filled a notebook of everywhere I went in Nashville?”
“In Queen City and Treepoint too.” He opened a bag of barbeque chips and gave them to her.
Setting the rest of the plain aside, she took the barbeque chips.
“It sucks having everyone know so much about you.” Another swirl of heat hit her stomach at the sweet gesture of his unknowingly revealing he had observed something so mundane as her chip preferences.
“Yes, it does,” he agreed.
“Could be worse,” she said, digging for another chip.
“How?” Scrunching the empty bag of chips he just devoured, Gavin took the half-eaten ones away from her.
“The advantage is none of the sandwiches have cheese or onions, which I hate. I also got my chocolate fix for the day.”
“Do you have to look on the bright side of everything?”
“Better than being a Gloomy Gus, like someone who will remain nameless. Especially since neither of us will be breathing in onion breath for the rest of the night.”