Page 17 of Eight Second Hearts

I take the receipt and shove it in my pocket once Ramiro finishes.

“Good. That way you get reimbursed for it with your magazine,” he says with a nod. “Smart move.”

I don’t have the heart or the patience to explain just how shitty the magazine is for leaving me with this. They won’t reimburse me for anything. And if I don’t get the story, all this money will have been wasted. I have some information about the three, my own observations, but I need the interview. Frank won’t accept it without an interview.

Beau goes inside and loads up on snacks, but I don’t bother. I’m in money saving mode now, and I don’t want to blow what I have on regular snacks. I’ll save it for cheap meals. Taco Bell is always a lifesaver. Instead, I lean against the truck and scroll through my phone, making sure I haven’t missed any insane news.

My phone rings as I stand there and my thumb hovers over the screen. The words, “Prescott Correctional Center” flash across the screen and I stare at them.

“You gonna get that?” Tripp asks.

I hadn’t even realized he was beside me, so I jump and nearly drop my phone. Luckily, I don’t. I quickly hit the red button and shove my phone in my back pocket.

“Wrong number,” I offer as explanation before climbing inside with Bilbo.

To his credit, he doesn’t respond to my obvious lie. I get the feeling Tripp Savage doesn’t care one way or the other what anyone does in this life as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him.

He climbs into the driver’s seat and sits quietly, his hands on the wheel. At first, it’s fine while we wait for the other two. He doesn’t start the truck, I assume to save gas when this behemoth costs as much as it does. So, we literally sit in silence.

The tapping starts after a minute. It’s his finger on the steering wheel at first, a slow gentle tap that draws my attention. It turns into his hand sliding along the steering wheel. He straightens in his seat, and I see his eyes dart to the center console where a silver flask sits. He hasn’t touched it since we’ve been in the truck, but I watch him stare at the flask longingly, tilting my head to study him better. I say nothing. I make no noise. I just watch.

The front passenger door opens, and it breaks the tension in the air.

“What did you two grouches talk about while we were loading up on snacks?” Ramiro prods as he climbs inside, a grin on his face.

I think that’s the moment Tripp realizes he wasn’t alone in the truck, that I’d witnessed his longing. His eyes flick up to the mirror and meet mine, and I’m reminded again just how pretty they are. Right now though, there’s something swirling there, a dare. Say something. Ask. I dare you.

“Nothing,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “Pretty sure Tripp was just busy wishing I didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Ramiro nods and claps Tripp on the shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ve still got another ten hours to go.”

Beau climbs into the backseat again, a large bag in his hand filled to the brim with snacks. “I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he says as he dumps it all out on the seat between us. He peels open a beef jerky stick and hands it to Bilbo who takes it with a happy wag of his tail. “So I got one of everything. Salty, sweet, savory, I got it all.”

My brows shoot up. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Beau presses his hand against his chest and looks shocked. “Of course I had to get my girl something! How could I not?”

“Not your girl,” I say, pointing at him.

“Yet,” he corrects me with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “My goal is to have you halfway in love with me by Tucson.” He picks up a candy bar. “And I’m going to do it with chocolate.”

I snort, and it’s arguably the least lady-like sound I could have made. It only makes Beau smile wider, his smooth face pleased at my reaction. “You think you could make me fall in love just like that?”

“I could make it faster,” he says, leaning in. “But you’d have to take your clothes off for that.”

I can’t stop the laugh that tumbles out. Beau Rogers is over the top, but I’d expect nothing else from a rodeo clown, so I take the damn chocolate. Why not?

“Thank you,” I say, tearing it open. “Let’s see if you can make me fall in love then.Withmy clothes on.”

“I enjoy a challenge,” he purrs.

An hour later, Beau is asleep again, crashing after tossing back a too large energy drink that gave him a sugar high. He’d literally passed out after propositioning me again. Hell, I’m not even mad about it. Beau Rogers is an attractive man who could damn near have any woman he wanted. It’s a high fucking compliment for him to be so into me. If I wasn’t so concerned with being professional, I might have taken him up on the offer.

Hell, I still might if I don’t get this interview. Make it worth it at least.

“Sorry about him,” Ramiro says from the front seat. “He means well.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I answer, waving away his words. “He’s nothing if not entertaining.”

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