Her Unexpected Detour (Checkerberry Inn) Page 9

  The door slammed shut behind her, echoing like a thunderclap across the parking lot. Ignoring the sting of crisp spring air against her skin, she raced away from the bar and its muffled pounding music, angry shouts, and sounds of continuing destruction. Truck. She’d get to his truck, hope like heck it was unlocked, and then call the cops. Surely they’d help her save Brent.

  But as she raced down the second row of vehicles past the old barn, panic threatened to consume her. There wasn’t a single black Silverado in sight—there were dozens. And none had his Masterson logo on the side. Crap! Where the heck had he parked?

  She’d zipped through every row anywhere near the exit and was just circling around for a second pass when the back door slammed open and shut. Brent shot out like a bullet and disappeared into the darkness. A few seconds later, a truck two rows over boop-booped as its headlights came to life.

  “Kayla?” he cried.

  Relief washed over her as she took off in that direction. “Coming!”

  The back door slammed open again, sending another loud crack! across the dark lot. The oversized biker guy burst outside. He stopped and scanned the sea of vehicles, a line of bright red blood trickling down from a cut above his right eye. Kayla darted off the main aisle and began picking her way through the dark toward Brent’s truck.

  “Coward! Get back here and fight like a m—”

  Brent’s truck roared to life, drowning out the guy’s taunting. Kayla dashed across the last gap between her and Brent’s truck and sprinted toward it with all she had left. The passenger side door hung open. With the last of her energy, she dove inside.

  “’Bout damn time,” Brent growled. “Hang on.”

  The truck surged forward, and Kayla scrambled to pull the door shut before she toppled right back out. Brent veered away from the building and started through the maze of vehicles that sat between them and the main road. Kayla spun to face backward and hung on for dear life as the truck bobbed and wove through the lot. They were nearly to the main road when she saw the scary biker woman emerge from the bar, a broken beer bottle held high in her hand, its jagged edge pointed in their direction.

  “That woman’s crazy!”

  “Too bad you didn’t figure that out before you pissed her off.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “Well, your big misunderstanding might have earned me a few broken knuckles,” Brent said, grimacing as he curled and uncurled his left hand.

  “I am so, so sorry.” She turned in her seat and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “All I wanted was to spend a nice, quiet evening with my brother.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh! Tommy! He’s got to be worried sick about me.”

  “Well, call him and let him know you’re okay. I’ll drive you back to—”

  A chorus of motorcycle engines roared to life behind them. Brent’s gaze flashed to the rearview mirror.

  “Damn. Looks like we’re not out of the woods, yet.”

  Kayla twisted in her seat to sneak a glance out the truck’s back window. A swarm of headlights was funneling out of Chevvy’s lot. “Oh my God. Should we call the police or something?”

  “No time for that,” he said, squinting out into the darkness before them.

  “But we can’t outrun them in this thing!”

  “Not on the main road, I can’t. Now where is that damn…ah, there it is.” He threw her a devious grin. “You’d better buckle up, princess. The ride’s about to get a little bumpy.”

  Kayla scrambled to latch her belt. “Bumpy?”

  Brent cranked the wheel hard right. An oof! escaped her as the seat belt constricted around her chest. The truck skidded off the road and down a steep embankment.

  “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “No, I’m trying to save our necks. Do you trust me?”

  The truck leveled out and tore off through a farmer’s recently tilled field. Even with her seat belt fastened, Kayla bounced like a ragdoll in the seat beside him.

  “D-d-d-o I-I h-a-a-a-ve a ch-ch-ch-ch-oice?” she cried.

  The truck eventually came to a dirt access road, and the rough ride went from whiplash-inducing to merely teeth-rattling. Kayla twisted in her seat and hung onto its edge to get a look out the rear window. The band of bikers had congregated back on the main road around where the Silverado had started its unexpected detour. One headlight trickled down off the road and into the field behind them. Then another.

  “Brent…”

  “Yeah, I see ’em.”

  Kayla felt the truck slow to a stop.

  “Damn,” Brent mumbled. “The creek’s higher than I expected.”

  Her gaze flashed forward. Sure enough, a wide creek wound its way through the dark field ahead of them, its contents glittering beneath the moonlight like a giant mystic snake. “Is that a bad thing?”

  The devious grin returned to his face.

  “Only if we get stuck,” he said, and stepped on the gas.

  Chapter Ten

  Brent stepped out of his truck and slammed the door behind him.

  Why? Why had he felt the need to rescue this damned woman again? Granted, he’d gotten one hell of an adrenaline rush from the fight and the escape. But now he had a throbbing left hand and a wanted woman in his truck. A single woman. A sexy, single woman. Whom he’d seen naked…from just about every angle possible.

  He looked back to the cab and discovered Kayla had made no move to exit the vehicle. Either all that bouncing around had jarred loose something inside her, or she was still trying to get over her fright from the bar. Brent wanted to comfort her, to calm her down, but could he do those things and still manage to keep his heart safe?

  He ran his good hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Get it together, man. It wasn’t like she would fall in love with the country atmosphere and beg to never go home. He’d be polite, invite her in, and keep a safe distance. The coast would be clear in an hour or two. Then he could drive her into town, drop her off, and never look back.

  With a sigh, Brent walked around and opened her door. She sat frozen, eyes fixed on the dark woods around them, still clutching the seat belt stretched across her chest.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice rough. “No. I don’t know.”

  Yeah, he could relate. Brent made to rub the back of his neck, then sucked in a sharp breath as a jolt of pain flashed across his knuckles. The sound snapped Kayla out of her momentary paralysis, and she turned to face him as he cradled his hand.

  “Oh my gosh, you really did hurt your hand.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “No.” She scrambled down out of the truck. “No, we need to get you to a doctor.”

  “I said it’s nothing.” He turned away. “Besides, we can’t go back into town for a few hours. Your biker buddies will be looking for us.”

  She stepped around him and planted both hands on her hips. “Well, if it’s broken, we’ll just have to chance it.”

  “It’s not broken,” he growled.

  “Come on, you big baby. Let me have a look at it.”

  He stared down at those blue eyes of hers and mentally cursed. Like he had the strength to deny her anything. “Fine.”

  With great care she took his wrist in her hands and pulled it toward her. Her touch was feather-light on his skin. Gentle, almost a caress. The touch of someone who truly cared.

  “What kind of pain are you feeling?”

  Brent tried to answer, but his heart was in his throat. He wasn’t used to being handled like fine china, to being cared about by anyone but his remaining family. She looked up, concern clear on her face. He swallowed hard and tried again.

  “It’s not broken, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m a guy. I know what broken bones feel like because I’ve broken plenty of them before.”

  Her right brow arched. “And only guys break bones?
”

  “Out of stupidity? Yes.”

  “Okay, I’ll agree with you there. But you really should get that checked out.”

  He slowly extracted his hand from hers. “I think some ice will do the job.”

  Or some morphine, he thought. Too bad neither could heal the fissure forming in his ironclad heart. Never should have agreed to meet Miles tonight.

  “Ice would probably be a good thing.” She turned back toward the truck, whose passenger door was still hanging wide open. “Just let me grab my…oh.”

  “Oh, what?”

  “My purse. I left it in the booth back at Chevvy’s.” She put her hands to her cheeks now. “And Tommy—we still need to reach him, let him know I’m okay.”

  “Here, you can use my phone. I probably still have his number in here from the other day.”

  Which, of course, he did. Had debated deleting it all weekend, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so. Because he was a grade A, smitten, pathetic sap.

  “No, that won’t work. He doesn’t have it on him, accidentally left it at the shop.” Kayla dropped her hands to her sides and barked a hopeless laugh. “Brilliant.”

  “Then I’ll just call Miles. He’s, uh, there, too.”

  Brent reached for the cell in his front left pocket, then bit back a curse as his tender knuckles met denim. He blinked away the pain-induced water in his eyes and found Kayla staring up at him, wringing her hands.

  “Do you need some help?”

  It was an innocent enough question, coming from anyone else. But the woman standing before him wasn’t anyone else, nor was she all that innocent. Kayla stepped forward, those unassuming blues locked on his pocket. Slowly she reached out and gave the denim a tug.

  “This pocket?”

  Brent’s mouth went dry. If she touched him again, would he be able to resist touching her as well? Hauling her inside and depositing her on his bed?

  The answer to that would be a resounding no.

  “You know what? Why don’t we just go inside? I’ll call him from the cordless.”

  He turned and headed for the back door, grateful to put some distance between them. And while the idea of allowing her in made his palms sweat, the perfect distraction waited inside. One that was sure to keep her occupied. A scratch sounded on the other side of the door.

  Key in the lock, he turned back to find Kayla exactly where he’d left her, gaze fixed on the truck and hands wringing once more.

  “You coming?”

  She looked his way, apprehension clear on her face. “I don’t know…”

  The pain in his left hand was starting to really hum and what little patience Brent had was diminishing by the second. “I could really use that ice.”

  Okay, so his answer had come out as nearly a growl. She crossed her arms. And while it would be a whole hell of a lot safer for his libido if she didn’t come inside, the gentleman in him wasn’t about to leave her out in the elements.

  “Besides, you don’t want to stand around in the dark for too long,” he chided. “Never know when a bear might mosey into the yard.”

  “A b-bear?”

  The sudden panic in her voice brought a grin to his lips. “Yep. There’s a black one that tends to hang around here. Guess that’s what I get for feeding him.”

  Kayla hurried to his side, her gaze trained on the woods. “You fed it? What were you thinking?”

  A whimper sounded from inside the house, followed by another impatient scratch. Brent coughed over the sound and worked to keep his face neutral.

  “Well, he does keep the rabbits away. And I haven’t had a rodent problem since he moved in.”

  She took a step back. “Wait…moved in?”

  He turned the key and pushed the door open. In a flash, his six-year-old Newfoundland nosed his way around the door and barreled out. Kayla stumbled back with a shriek as the mass of black fur bore down upon her.

  “Kayla,” Brent said, “meet Bear. Bear, meet Kayla.”

  She lost her footing and landed square on her ass. Bear capitalized on the moment and drenched her with licks and kisses.

  “No,” she cried, bringing her arms up to protect her head. “Gah, enough already. Enough!”

  “Come on now, buddy,” Brent said with a chuckle. He laced his good hand through Bear’s collar and tugged him off the still-stunned Kayla. “She’s not used to having a hundred and fifty pound baby crawling all over her.”

  Bear whimpered but obeyed. He plopped his butt on the stoop and watched with bright eyes as Kayla slowly rose to her feet. It wasn’t often Brent had visitors.

  “‘A bear hangs around here.’” Kayla swiped a hand across her slobber-coated cheek with narrowed eyes. “Funny, Masterson. Real funny.”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t a complete lie. Black bears have been known to wander through the area. This one just happens to be of the canine variety.”

  Bear’s tail thumped impatiently against Brent’s foot. The stern look on Kayla’s face softened.

  “Can I pet him?”

  “Please, before he spontaneously combusts.”

  Kayla reached the back of her hand out to Bear. Brent warned his pup to behave, then released his collar. The overgrown fluff ball shuffled forward until his body was pressed up against her legs. Bear offered her hand a kiss. And then another. And then another.

  “Hi, Bear,” she cooed. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

  She bent down, and a broad smile lit her delicate features. Bear craned his neck to lick at her neck and face. Kayla laughed—a pure, unadulterated sound—and continued with her baby talk as she rubbed behind his ears. She looked happy, happier than he’d seen her since their dinner with Ruby and Miles at the inn. Right before she led him upstairs and into her suite. He turned away before the memory of what came next could weave its way into his thoughts and taunt him yet again.

  “I really need that ice.”

  Kayla sat at Brent’s dining room table, stroking the top of Bear’s head as she scanned the homey décor around her. It was nothing like she would have pictured for its moody, muscle-bound owner, with its cheery rooster-themed wallpaper and worn but spotless Shaker furniture. Then again, maybe this was how the previous owners had decorated it, and he’d never bothered to do any updates. That made more sense. After spending all day working construction, the last thing he probably wanted to do was come home and do more.

  Overhead, a board creaked. Brent had come in, filled a plastic bag with ice, set the oven to preheat for a frozen pizza, then mumbled something about needing to change out of his beer-soaked shirt as he walked past. She reminded him to call Miles so he could let Tommy know she was all right, and had gotten nothing more than a grunt in return. Clearly, he was tired of coming to her rescue.

  Truth be told, she was tired of needing to be saved.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes and recapped the debacle at Chevvy’s. God, she was lucky to have gotten out of there intact. Hopefully Brent was right about his hand not being broken. She felt guilty enough interrupting his weekend time and time again.

  “So, why are you still here?”

  Kayla opened her eyes to see Brent walk by without a second glance, his ice-wrapped hand tucked safely into his chest. She sat up straighter, heat flooding her cheeks. Bear, unwilling to lose his personal masseuse, pressed his massive, furry body tighter against her leg. “Excuse me?”

  “Here, in Mount Pleasant. I thought you were leaving Saturday,” he said as he gingerly slid the pizza into the oven. “As soon as the tow truck pulled you free.”

  “Oh.” Kayla relaxed, but only slightly so. “Trust me, I wanted to get on the road. But when we got there, the driver said my car wasn’t drivable. Something about a smashed bumper and sub something or another. So he towed it back to my brother’s shop.”

  “Speaking of which, I called Miles. He said your brother was talking to the cops who showed up after we left, and he promised to let him know you were all right. Thirsty?�
�

  “Yes. Poor Tommy, I bet he was freaking out.” If he even saw any of the fight. For all she knew, he and Heather had been making out and missed the whole thing.

  “Miles will set him straight, and we’ll get you back soon enough.” Brent pulled two Miller Lites from the refrigerator. “I’ve got this or water, pick your poison.”

  “Beer’s fine, thanks.”

  He walked over to the table and set one down, then went to twist the cap off the other and scowled at his iced hand.

  “Here, let me help you,” Kayla said, reaching for the beer. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Thanks. So, can Tommy fix your car?”

  “He seems to think so,” she said, twisting both caps off as he took the seat across from her. “But the parts are going to take a few days to come in.”

  “That sucks. So, what, you’re staying with him in the meantime?”

  “No. His roommate came down with the flu. Tommy’s been over at his girlfriend’s place.”

  “So where’d you end up then?” he asked. “Hampton Inn? The Chippewa?”

  “Neither. Last night, I stayed at the garage. Tommy keeps a couch up in the loft. I hoped it’d be a one-night deal.”

  Brent’s right brow rose, and heat flooded Kayla’s cheeks.

  “I mean, you know. Sleeping on the couch. At my brother’s. A one-time thing.” Lord, she was just digging this hole deeper and deeper.

  He stood with a frown and headed back toward the kitchen. When he wasn’t laughing and joking, Brent could almost be downright intimidating. Except he wasn’t, not to her. Mr. Tough Guy had one giant, soft underbelly. Well, beneath his nicely sculpted six-pack. She lifted the amber bottle to her lips and tried to wash that image from her mind.

  “Ruby will be pissed, you know,” he said, drawing two plates from his cupboard.

  “Because…?”

  “Because you traded the Checkerberry Inn for a night on some lumpy couch.”

  Only Ruby? She pushed the disappointment from her mind—it had no right to be there. “But the inn isn’t open for the season. Besides, I wasn’t going to make the tow truck driver haul me all the way back out there.”