Page 32 of Reckless

I pass over the bag, which he puts all of his purchases into, then he puts it on his back, giving me a look that says not to argue.

“It’s not too busy,” he looks at the few people in here. “Let’s go to the exhibit real quick.”

“It’s your excursion. Lead on.”

It’s nice watching his enthusiasm. He reads everything as we make our way through. We take seats at the back of the auditorium to watch the short video about the monument. Then we head outside to the Avenue of Flags.

I take his picture with the Ohio and California state flags, then he asks a passer-by to take one of us both with the Chicago flag, putting his arm around my shoulder and leaning towards me. I smile but hold my breath as I’m pressed into his side.

We sit for a while, and I watch the flags and tourists while he reads the map and guide leaflets.

“Did I see food in here?” Jude asks, opening the bag. He hands me a water bottle and one of the cereal bars. “You’re always prepared.”

“Someone has to be. It’s like going on an adventure with a ten-year-old,” I laugh.

“Mock me all you want. This is fun,” he grins. “I’m a novice, remember. I’ll make sure we’re stocked up on the next excursion.”

“The next one?” I arch a brow.

“Yeah, I’ve been googling.”

“I should confiscate your phone.”

“Then I’d just have to pester you for information. And you don’t want that. I can behave like a ten-year-old when required.”

“Why do I believe that’s true?”

He winks, biting off a huge chunk of apple.

After a drink and some more snacks I brought, Jude takes more pictures, including one of me hiding behind my hands, laughing because I don’t want to take a picture. He starts chasing me, until it draws attention. He pockets his phone, grabs my hand and tugs me away from a group of tourists.

Then we head into the park, in search of the four presidents, who are pretty hard to miss in reality.

Jude still has hold of my hand.

Chapter 9

I lean back in the chair I’ve brought up to the roof. Krista is downstairs catching up on some emails and writing. She said she needed an hour. I didn’t want to disturb her, even though she said it was fine for me to watch TV in the same room as her. I’d never inconvenience her like that, plus I’m not a big fan of the TV.

We got to Rapid City around three and parked in a street lot she found. It’s not ideal, given there are a lot of people around, but no one can bother me up here.

I scroll through the pictures I took today. Once I got her to loosen up, Krista agreed to be in the photos. She is always pulling a face, never a normal smile. At the end of today’s reel, it lands on the photo I took of her outside the RV, her head tilted up towards the sun.

My dick is not pleased with me. I haven’t been able to attend to it while in the RV, because I don’t want Krista hearing that. It’s popped up more than once, especially in the middle of the night when I can hear her moving around in her bed, and my head fills with images it shouldn’t.

The more I’m around her, and the more I’m getting to know her, the harder it’s becoming to keep my head from imagining all kinds of things. She’s smart, funny, gorgeous. All things I’ve come across in countless women over the years, but there is something about Krista. She’s different. Carefree but smart. Funny and sarcastic with it. She won’t take any shit from anyone.

She’s got a lot of heart too. Few women would agree to me traveling with them. Well, if I wasn’t a famous musician, with millions of adoring fans who would kill to be in her place right now.

Closing out of the photo reel, I search for local restaurants. We need to be on the road soon to make it to the next RV park, but I want to do something nice for her. To thank her.

I find a bar and grill restaurant with tons of excellent reviews, and call about a table for two in a private spot in the restaurant. Luckily, they say they have some booths that are free at six, so I book one and give a fake name.

When I climb down the ladder and go back inside, Krista is staring at her laptop screen. She has a pen tucked into a haphazard messy bun on top of her head. Her tongue is poking out as she concentrates on what she is writing.

Holy fucking shit. I clear my throat and her attention comes to me.

“Hey. What time is it?” she asks.

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