Page 14 of Tripp

The darkness of the evening was a perfect shield, so I kept my eyes straight ahead while we walked side by side across the large parking lot. I had no idea where I was going, but I kept on anyway. Eventually, I’d figure it out. The motel I was staying at was only a mile down the road. Worst-case, I’d walk the entire way, although the heels I had on would kill my feet before I made it there.

“I’m parked over here,” Tripp announced, grabbing my hand and hauling me toward a motorcycle. Once we neared his ride, I shook my head and retreated. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not gettin’ on that,” I refused, pointing toward the hunk of steel. “I’ll find my own way back.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Reaching out his hand, he waited for me to come closer, but I never did.

“I don’t want to.” No way was I going to straddle that machine. There was absolutely no protection between me and the pavement if something went wrong. Helmets only helped to protect the head from being crushed. What about the rest of my body? I just couldn’t trust my safety to a complete stranger, even though said stranger was most likely an excellent rider. Fate had lashed out at me enough during my life, I wasn’t about to tempt the fickle bitch and simply hope for the best.

While I was caught up inside my own head, he pulled his phone out and dialed a number. “Get out here. In the parking lot. I need your keys. Because I said so.” He hung up, not once taking his eyes from me. Moments later, the door swung open and a man walked straight for us. He was good-looking, his dark hair the same shade as Tripp’s, and the closer he came the more I could see a resemblance between the two.

“How am I getting home?” the man asked, throwing me a smile before tossing his keys at Tripp, staggering to the side before righting himself.

“I’ll have someone come get you.”

“Why don’t you just let me take your bike?” His jumbled words gave away that he was a little more than tipsy.

“Because, brother or not, I’d have to kill ya if you put a scratch on my bike. Seeing as how your ass is drunk and all.”

“I’m not drunk. Just feelin’ nice,” he blabbered, winking at me before turning his attention back to Tripp.

“Shut the fuck up and get back inside.” Tripp stepped closer and whispered something in his brother’s ear before ushering him back toward the club. Turning around, he strolled toward me, grasped my hand and led me toward a dark-colored truck. “I would’ve introduced you, but he’s not in any shape not to be crass, or even remember he met you for that matter. It’d just be a waste of time.”

Opening the passenger door, he waited until I’d slid inside and buckled up before rounding the vehicle to his side. Turning over the engine, he drove across the lot and came to a dead stop at the edge, glancing over at me for directions.

“Take a right. My motel is a mile down the road.” I settled into my seat and waited for him to propel the truck forward, but we remained immobile. “What?” I asked, admiring his profile during the ensuing silence, losing myself to the image of his chiseled jaw and slight stubble.

“The Buckshot Motel? That’s where you’re staying?” he asked incredulously, turning on the interior light and shaking his head before peppering me with more questions. “How long have you been there? And why . . . why in God’s name would you choose that place? Do you know what a cesspool it is? Of course you do, but what I can’t figure out is why you’re staying there.” He rambled on until he wasn’t even directing his words at me any longer. His demeanor was borderline snobby, which was quite comical coming from someone who looked like him. He was the furthest thing from uppity, yet he took it upon himself to condemn the only place I could afford, essentially making me feel worse about my predicament.

“Well?” he asked, raising his voice as if I hadn’t been paying attention the entire time.

“Yes, I’m staying there, and it’s because I can’t afford anywhere else. I’ve just moved here and I had a whopping fifty bucks to my name. I was lucky to find a job right away, so at least I wasn’t out on the streets.” Turning my body toward him so he didn’t miss the angry look on my face, I continued, “But now you’ve gone and fired me—for something that wasn’t my fault, I might add—so now it’s a great possibility that I’ll be homeless in a few weeks if I don’t find another place to work. So thanks for that.” The more I spoke, the angrier I became, although I tried to rein in my temper because my feet were killing me and the thought of walking a mile in the dark in these damn heels was too much. If I watched my tone maybe he’d follow through and give me a ride back to the ‘cesspool.’

We stared at each other, the slight tick of his jaw and squint of his eyes telling me something was going on inside that gorgeous head of his. He bit his lower lip, and I wanted nothing more than to dislodge it from his straight white teeth and suck on it.Oh my God! What is wrong with me?

Moving my body to face the front once again, I said, “Please just take me home.”

“Home?” he scoffed, flicking off the light before pressing on the gas and turning left.

“Where are you going? I said to take a right.”

“You’re not going there.”

“But my stuff is there.”

“We’ll get it tomorrow,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my place. You can stay there until you find something better. No way am I dropping you off at that shithole, and since I don’t trust that you’d be safe there, I’d be forced to stay with you . . . and no way that’s happenin’.”

There he goes rambling again.

Tripp

I can’t believe she expected me to drop her off at the Buckshot Motel. The place was well known for druggies and whores. They even rented the rooms by the hour, for Christ’s sake.

“How did you get back and forth to work? I know you don’t have a car if the only thing you could afford was that fuckin’ place.” My hands tightened on the wheel, my impatience for the entire evening coming to a halting close.

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