Page 11 of Outlaw

Outlaw’s not asking me for sexual favors, so what’s he getting from this? Does he really care that I get to Yellowstone to watch Danny smile at a parade of buffaloes? Something tells me that’s not the case.

The weight of Outlaw’s frame shifts in bed. God, I love this. I’ve never laid next to a man before, but if I ever were to again, I’d want him to be exactly like the man currently next to me. Everything about him is perfection.

His phone starts buzzing at his bedside. He reaches toward it with his giant palm and answers. “What?”

God, I love his voice.

“Mr. Klein?”

Mr. Klein? His name is Outlaw Klein. I bite back laughter. I never thought about him having a last name. I guess I figured he was like Madonna or something. His mail just comes to ‘Outlaw,’ and the post office knows to bring it to the giant who lives deep in the mountain.

“We have your sister, Carmen, here. She had another seizure. She’s stable now if you want to come get her.” I’m not sure if the phone is on speaker or not, but I hear everything like it is.

“Copy.” He has no emotional reaction, as though this has happened many times. Then again, maybe he never has any emotional reaction. Maybe that’s a red flag. Then again, I guess he has shown me empathy by giving me extra time. This is so confusing.

The phone drops back onto the counter and he rolls up with a grunt. “Get dressed.”

“Is she okay?” My tone is frantic. I’ve only known one person to have seizures, and that’s my sister. It’s how she passed. She had a major seizure which led to her car accident.

“She’ll be fine. This happens a lot. We’re going to be made fun of terribly, though, so get ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she likes to be right. So, when she sees that you spent the night, she’s going to laugh her ass off and never let us live it down.” He tugs on a pair of jeans and pulls a flannel over his t-shirt making the whole lumberjack vibe complete. “You want coffee?”

“Sure.”

He steps out of the room, and I tug on my dress from last night and check myself in the mirror. I look like hell. There are dark bags under my eyes, my hair is wild, and my cheeks look puffier than usual. I could also use some saline. These contacts weren’t meant to be slept in.

I rummage through his bathroom until I find a small travel sized bottle of eye drops and make use of it. People say you can tell a lot about a person through their medicine cabinet, but I refute that fact wholeheartedly. This man has toothpaste, mouthwash, and this small bottle of eye drops. That’s it. What can I tell with that information other than the fact that he keeps things uncluttered? I guess that’s a good thing.

“Come on,” he groans, holding out a mug of liquid. “The queen doesn’t like waiting.”

I don’t know much about his relationship with Carmen. I knew she had a brother, but she never gave much detail. Then again, I would’ve listened much closer had I known her brother was Outlaw.

“So,” I say, following him out toward his truck, “are you and Carmen close?”

He nods and opens the door, helping me inside. I wonder if it’s habit or if he’s doing it just for me. Last night he turned his back and let me climb off the bike on my own. I could tell that bothered him, but I figured it was his way of keeping control.

“Our parents died when she was young. So, I stepped in. There’s almost twenty years between us. She feels more like my daughter than my sister.”

I nod. “I’m sorry… that they passed. You mind me asking how?” I’ve always been too nosy for my own good. Part of me expects him to shut me down, but he doesn’t.

Why? Why would a man who’s only focus was to keep me captive tell me any personal details?

“Nothing dramatic. Old age. They had me and started fresh with Carmen later in life. She was fourteen when I took her in full time.”

It dawns on me just now that Carmen and I are the same age. God, I’m probably making a fool of myself with this guy. He doesn’t look at me like a sexual seductress. He looks at me like a kid. He probably fell asleep laughing to my stupid, awful, inexperienced blow job, and ugh…

I bite back a wave of nausea.

“You okay? The coffee bad?” He glances toward me then back at the road again. The night is especially dark with no moon and even the stars are clouded over. I’ve always loved nights like this. There’s something mysterious about them.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just exhausted today. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I’m sorry. We’ll have you in your room tonight.” He’s not speaking in single word sentences anymore. A rested Outlaw is a good Outlaw.

I nod and drag my gaze away from him and out the window. Technically, I don’t want my own room. I want to be in his. I want to snuggle up next to him like I did on his bike.

---