Page 14 of Color of Love

Chapter 5

Saturday night was girl’s night. Justine, Taylor and Christy used to do sleepovers when they were teenagers but when Christy left town, that had stopped. Now that Christy was back, they picked up the tradition again and did it once a month. They all turned up at Taylor’s, in their pjs, ate snacks, drank cocktails, and watched scary movies before falling asleep in a pile on the floor. It was the highlight of Justine’s week every time; so what if they were in their thirties now?

Normally she wore her cozy flannel pajamas, but the temperature had risen towards the end of the week, so she changed into a cotton shorts and tank top set. She grabbed the fresh batch of fudge brownies she’d made and got into her car to head for Taylor’s. As she drove down the dark country roads to get to the Rusty Bucket, singing along to the radio at the top of her lungs, her thoughts veered towards Blake, where they seemed to go far too often lately.

He was an enigma. Brooding, serious, mysterious and the way he held himself screamed alpha male. She’d never met a man like him. Annoyingly, she couldn’t get him out of her head, mainly because he was wreaking havoc in her professional life, refusing to drop his guard and let her help him. She’d never had a client this stubborn before and she began to wonder what it would take to break him. Had his other psychologists given up on him because he couldn’t be helped or because he didn’t want to be helped? Whatever it was, she wasn’t a quitter; he would have to quit her first.

What was he doing now? It was late, was he in bed? Was he in bed, alone? She bit her lip, she didn’t care what he did, she only cared from a professional viewpoint. Frankly if it helped him, he could bang his way through the town, and she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. She huffed. Okay maybe she would care a little.

He was attractive, there was no denying it, and intense in a way that made her want to bask in his attention, roll over and submit to him like a little kitty cat, just wanting to please him. She felt heat pooling in her core at the thought of pleasing him. Ugh, she needed to hurry up and start exploring intimate relationships.

The first Ladies’ Night was taking place next weekend at the bar, and she couldn’t wait. She was so busy thinking about how many men would turn up, that she didn’t notice the streak of orange that dashed in front of the car until it was too late. She screamed and slammed on her brakes, but she felt the distinctive thud as she hit the fox. She slowed her car, pulling off to the side of the road, her tires crunching over dried leaves and twigs at the edge of the forest.

She sat there for a moment, trying to get her breathing under control. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was going to have to go and look for the fox. She loved animals and couldn’t bear the thought of it suffering. Her only thought was that hopefully it had been hit hard enough that it was already dead and not lying in agony.

It was pitch black outside, not a soul around. The bright lights of her car illuminated the road ahead. She rooted around in her glovebox and found the flashlight she kept in there for emergencies, took a deep breath and got out. The balmy evening air warmed her, the silence of the night so intense it was deafening. She flicked the flashlight on, shining it over the road as she began walking back. Her footwear consisted of fluffy black sliders which were rapidly filling up with twigs and leaves, not the best footwear but she hadn’t expected to be traipsing around in the dark.

She continued walking until she spotted tire marks on the road, most likely hers. She looked around. She couldn’t see anything, then she heard a faint whine. Her heart pounded in her chest, her brain screaming at her to get back in her car and drive off. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t leave the animal out here to suffer. She steeled herself, mentally put on her big girl panties and turned her flashlight towards the row of trees edging the forest. Calling herself all kinds of idiot, she stepped off the road and into the trees.

*

Blake lay in bed, tossing and turning, willing himself to sleep. He thought that if he went to bed earlier, it might take him a while to drift off, but it would still be earlier than normal. Apparently not. He finally gave up just after eleven and got up, his insomnia not willing to give him a much-needed break. He was on edge, antsy in a way he hadn’t been for a while. He had worked himself hard today, working out for hours, punishing his body, willing it to collapse with exhaustion but that had the opposite effect. His body ached but his brain was wired.

He looked out of his bedroom window, the breeze ruffling the trees, the moon high and bright in the clear sky. It was the perfect night for a ride. He smiled to himself, the first genuine smile he’d had in weeks as he changed into jeans and t-shirt. He pounded down the stairs, grabbed his helmet and leather jacket from the hall closet, stuffed his feet into his black Doc Martens, pocketing his keys and phone.

The evening air smelled fresh, a hint of citrus teasing his nostrils, the scent that surrounded the town. He went around the side of the house. The police cruiser that he used most of the time was parked on the driveway but inside the garage sat his precious baby, his Triumph motorcycle. He hadn’t ridden much recently and couldn’t wait until he was flying down the open, deserted roads of the rural town.

Opening the garage, he paused. There she was, her sexy black paint and metal shining at him in the moonlight. He felt his smile widen. He put his helmet on and swung his leg over, seating himself on his Triumph, adjusting his weight. He turned the ignition, the engine roared to life, loud and purring. The vibrations calming him, the sound soothing his nerves and centering him. He revved the engine and the sound reverberated off the brick walls of the garage then he sped out onto the street, feeling invincible.

As he drove out towards the back roads where he could really push the bike to the limits, he felt amazing. Why couldn’t he feel like this all the time, so carefree and relaxed? He took several deep breaths, the breeze rushing through his helmet and sinking inside his lungs.

He rode into the night, everything else falling away, until on a long stretch of road, he saw a car up ahead. He slowed the bike slightly when he spotted the driver door was wide open and the headlights were on. What the hell?

His adrenaline kicked in as he surveyed the situation. A late night, empty road, no one around for miles, what danger lay ahead? All his positive, calm energy disappeared when he pulled up alongside the empty car. He killed the engine and got off the bike, resting it on the kickstand. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called the station.

“This is Deputy Miller, has anyone reported a car abandoned at the side of a road? Any reports come in at all tonight?” he asked when one of the young officers answered. There was a pause as the officer checked the system and Blake looked around, scrutinizing the area.

“Not that I can see, sir,” the officer replied.

“Can you run a check on some plates for me?” Blake read out the plates and as he stood waiting for the info, he heard a noise in the brush next to him and spun, eyes trying to focus on the pitch black of the forest.

“Who’s there?” he called, injecting a layer of menace and authority into his tone. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he waited. Nothing. He heard another twig snap, closer this time. His breathing deepened, there was nothing worse than knowing an enemy could see you, but you couldn’t see them.

He closed his eyes, sharpening his instincts, homing in on his years of military training to guide him. When he heard another twig snap his eyes shot open, there, just to the left of him. He ducked down behind the car and crawled around the side, ready to attack whoever was roaming in the woods so late at night.

As they came closer, he stilled himself, he didn’t have his gun with him for protection, he would need to rely on his fists. He smiled to himself in the dark, no problem there, I’ve been itching for a fight. When the assailant came closer, he pounced, grabbing them, and shoving them against the trunk of the car. A high-pitched squeal rang out and he jolted back, looking down into the wide, startled honey eyes that had tormented him for weeks.

“Justine?” he rasped, his mouth going dry as he took in her disheveled appearance. He ran his eyes over her, checking her for injury. What he wasn’t prepared for was the most adorable orange and green pajama set that he’d ever seen. The material was dotted with cartoon carrots in ninja outfits and read, ‘I’m skilled in carrate’. His lips twitched at the pun. His humor faded when he took in her long, toned legs stretching on for miles, long enough to wrap around his waist and hold on for the wild ride. He shook his head, dislodging the thought. Her feet were shoved into fluffy…were they slippers?

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he shouted, backing away from her, his nerves getting the better of him when he realized he could’ve seriously hurt her.

“Me? What the hell are you doing out here?!” she yelled back, her eyes narrowing at him. He frowned at her, surprised she wasn’t afraid of him.

“I’m out here because I was checking what the hell this car was doing here!” he shouted again, annoyed that even though he was the one in charge, he was explaining his actions to her. He still held his phone in his hand, he lifted it back to his ear and said goodbye to the officer on the other end. He ran his eyes over her again, lingering, he noticed her nipples hardened under his stare. It didn’t look like she was wearing a bra.

“Are you alright? What are you doing out here in your pajamas?” he asked, glancing around, to make sure no one else was going to jump out at them.

“I’m heading to a…sleepover,” she began, her voice dipping on that last word and her cheeks flushed. He became inexplicably angry, fury flooding his veins at the thought of her heading over to some guy’s house so late. He knew there was only one reason for a ‘sleepover’ at this time of night: a booty call.

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