Good Girls Don't (24 page)
“Figuring what out? You mean, love?”
He smiled. Had she never said the word in reference to herself? She looked as though it practically choked her on its way out. “Yeah, love.”
The corners of her full mouth tipped down for a brief second, but Landon noticed.
“Never had it,” she admitted, then laughed through the awkward moment. “How’d we get on that?”
“You started it,” he reminded, “by talking about Lettie.”
“I guess I did,” she said as the third pyramid of cans hit the ground. The booth attendant asked Landon to pick his prize.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, pointing to the huge animals on display.
“I always wanted a Chihuahua,” she said, noting the three-foot-tall stuffed dog.
“That one,” Landon said, then accepted the big-eared toy from the man. “So, if you did find it, someday, do you think you’d be slow figuring it out?”
“Love?” she repeated, and he laughed out loud at the odd croak the word formed on her lips. Was she that terrified of the emotion?
“Yeah, Amy,” he said. “Love.”
“There’s no way to know,” she said. Then, as Landon took her hand and headed toward the next section of rides, he heard her whisper, “Yet.”
He fought the urge to give her a cat-that-caught-the-canary smile. He was making progress. True, they were just getting started in this relationship, and he had no idea where it’d head over time. Still, he wanted to know she was open to it leading everywhere. And now, he believed, she was.
Excellent.
Amy stopped walking. Her attention had moved to the House of Mirrors, where a father and daughter made their way through, laughing and poking fun at each other as they bumped into the walls.
Landon watched her examine the pair, her brow furrowing slightly when they exited the transparent building and high-fived their victory. Amy’s slender throat pulsed with a thick swallow.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, quickly regaining her composure. “Yeah, just thinking about giving that a try.”
He knew there was more, much more, to the emotion he’d seen on her face, but he also knew she didn’t want to discuss it further. No problem. He’d waited two years to know the real Amy Campbell. She was starting to get used to trusting him, to trusting any male, so he wouldn’t push her. Not now. Not ever. “I’m game if you are.”
She smiled, a beautiful, full grin that had caught his attention the first time they’d been introduced. Amy Campbell didn’t merely smile with her mouth; her entire face gleamed with enthusiasm, with life. And given the sadness that he’d seen a moment ago, he reveled in helping to produce that image. “Let’s go.”
They got in line and waited their turn. When they finally reached the top of the stairs leading to the display, Landon asked the attendant to watch their pet. Then he pointed to the stuffed Chihuahua.
The guy laughed, placed the big dog beside him and gave them the go-ahead to begin.
“Wait,” Amy said, putting her palm against his chest. “Ladies first.”
“I figured we’d go together.”
“Nope.”
He shook his head. “You’re wanting to race?”
“Definitely.”
“You realize you could hurt yourself if you walk into one of those glass walls,” he warned.
“I’ll risk it.”
“Dang, lady, are you this competitive at everything?”
“Guess it comes from those cheerleading competitions in high school. Or maybe it was track.”
Or maybe it’s the fact that she didn’t want to accept help from a man. Didn’t want to admit that she might need him, want him.
But Landon wanted her to realize he wasn’t that kind of guy. He’d never hold the fact that she desired his help, or that she desired him period, over her, as something to toy with her feelings, play with her emotions.
“All right,” he said. “Ladies first. I’ll turn around so I won’t see which way you head.”
“Fine.”
He listened to her giggle echo against the glass as she entered the maze; then he heard her yell, “Okay, you can come in now!”
Landon moved forward, but the entrance was low and promptly knocked his Stetson off his head. He turned to pick it up.
“You’ll never catch me that way, slowpoke,” Amy called. Her cute figure was distorted by the mirrors and glass walls, but she still looked breathtakingly gorgeous.
Landon grabbed his hat and laughed, then headed into the maze.
In less than four minutes, he exited on the other side.
He turned and saw Amy, her hands in front of her as she struggled to find her way through.
“All right, smarty,” she said, frowning at him through the wall panels. “How’d you do it?”
Landon laughed. “Can I go in and get her?” he asked the attendant.
“Sure thing, bud.”
He moved inside, following the exact route he’d taken before. When he neared her, he slowed his pace, waited until he found the opening leading down the path she’d taken, then held out his hand. “Come on, Miss Independent. This way.”
“I would’ve found it eventually,” she said, but smiled when she grabbed his hand and followed him quickly through the maze.
“Thanks,” Landon said to the man as he handed them their stuffed dog.
“No problem.”
“All right, how’d you do it?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as they headed toward the Ferris wheel.
“An old trick I learned as a kid, the first time I went to the fair and tried to tackle the House of Mirrors.”
“I’m listening.”
“I ran in and promptly barreled into the first wall. Here’s the evidence,” he said, pushing back the hair on his forehead to reveal a tiny scar.
“Ow!”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t quit, even though my mother stood outside the place begging me to stop. I kept banging into wall after wall, until finally the man running the booth came in to help.”
“Stubborn, huh?”
“When I want something, I can be.”
She tilted her head as though trying to read more into his answer, which was fine by Landon. He meant more by it, and she might as well understand he didn’t give up easily. At anything.
“So then what?” she asked.
“He came in and told me how to get out; then I simply walked through.”
“How do you get out?”
“Right hand, right wall.”
She stopped walking. “What?”
“You keep your right hand on the right wall. Never venture toward the center and never make a left turn. As long as you keep heading in the right direction, you’ll never go wrong.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
She turned around and marched back toward the House of Mirrors.
“What are you doing?” Landon asked, though he knew.
“Going to beat ya.”
“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He followed her through the line and back up the steps, handed off the dog to the guy at the door, then let her enter first.
Within three minutes, Amy had exited the display and was doing a celebratory dance on the exit platform when he walked out.
“Happy now?” he asked.
“Incredibly.”
They continued through the park and once again let the attendant dog-sit while they rode the Ferris wheel and took their turn rising to the top of the park as the metal structure circled through the air.
“Look, there’s your truck,” Amy said, pointing toward the parking lot and the big black Dually parked near the gate. “It almost looks spotlighted under the entrance sign.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“It seemed to get dark fast,” she said, noting the charcoal sky.
“That’s why I wanted to come early. Actually, the fair closes in a half hour.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointment in the single word. “Man, I wanted to ride that too.” She pointed toward the Wheelie, a round apparatus that circled horizontally on the ground, then extended vertically and continued its rapid spin.
“We’ve got time,” he said, pleased with her announcement. He’d planned on steering her toward that ride at the end of the night, anyway; he had his own plans for the Wheelie.
They climbed out of the Ferris wheel, grabbed the stuffed Chihuahua and jogged across the park to get in line for the ride.
“This looks like fun,” Amy said.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Within minutes, they boarded a tiny metal box built for two.
“Holy cow, it’s smaller than I thought,” Amy said, taking Landon’s hat while he climbed in. There was no way his Stetson would fit inside the confines of the car. “Where do you want me to put this?” she asked, holding up his hat.
“I’ll put it with your dog, if you want,” the fellow running the ride said.
“Thanks.” Amy handed him the hat and the dog, then climbed in to sit in front of Landon.
He pulled the top hatch down and waited while the attendant ran around the cars and checked to make sure they were all locked in.
“Last ride for the night,” Amy said. “But I’ll bet it’ll be a good one.”
“It will,” he promised as the engine on the structure whirred to life and they started circling.
The wind produced from their rapid swirl whipped through the slits at the top of the car and caused Amy’s ponytail to slap his face.
Amy squealed her excitement, but her squeal halted immediately when Landon’s hand ventured up her thigh.
She turned her head. “Landon?” Her voice was near silent, due to their fellow passengers’ screams, but he heard.
His thumb moved within the loose leg of her shorts, ventured into her panties and focused on her clit. “Yeah,” he breathed into her ear while she arched in the seat. He nipped her lobe. “Tell me not to stop,” he said, circling the tender area and sliding his fingers down her heated folds. “Tell me you want to come.”
“I . . . do.”
The cars circled faster, wind whipped harder as he worked his thumb over her tender cleft and she gasped. He increased the friction, circling her as quickly as the cars on the ride circled into the sky, while Amy bucked beneath him.
“I’m about to,” she said, her hips lifting off the seat to press harder against his hand.
He slipped two fingers inside, then groaned at the tightness of her, gripping his fingers like a fist. “Hell, Amy, you’re incredible.”
“Have to . . . scream,” she said, and he could feel her holding back on the emotion her body yearned to set free.
“Let it go,” he said. “Come on, Amy. Let me be a part of it this time. Don’t wait. Don’t go home and do it alone. Let me get you there. Everyone’s screaming. Go ahead, set it free. Let me feel you let go.”
And she did. Powerfully, violently, completely.
E
rika picked up another black seashell and placed it in her mesh bag, then continued walking down the beach, kicking the water as she progressed and wanting to drown in her misery.
Butch and the biker babe. He’d promised nothing had happened.
Yeah, right.
Because what she’d seen merely moments ago let her know something had happened. Or if it hadn’t happened before, it was sure happening now.
What made her look through the window before opening the door to their room? Had she heard them? She didn’t think so, but for whatever reason, she’d sneaked a peek through the crack in the curtains, like some high-school kid spying on her boyfriend. She saw Butch, naked and writhing on top of the biker babe. The big rebel flag tattooed on his back waved at Erika as he thrust in and out of the squealing female.
Erika’s chest clenched, lunch threatened to make a rapid exit.
“Stop it,” she warned her stomach. “He’s not worth it.” And that was the truest statement she’d made all week. Who had she been trying to fool? She’d pretended she was all grown up and had found the man of her dreams from the get-go, had honestly thought she’d tamed a wild man.
“Hmph,” she said, picking up another black shell. At least half of that was true. Butch was wild, all right. But he hadn’t moved one centimeter toward taming the beast. And right now, she could care less—about taming him, loving him or staying with him another day.
Which really ticked her off, given all her clothing was currently tucked away in a dresser merely feet away from the naked biker duo.
She laughed out loud. “Naked biker duo” sounded like cheesy cartoon characters.
Picking up another black shell, she stepped into the surf, rinsed it off, then watched as the ridges captured the afternoon sunlight.
How long until Butch got done banging leather lady? And how could Erika get her things out without causing a scene? Moreover, where the heck would she stay until it was time to go home? And since she’d ridden over on Butch’s motorcycle, how the heck would she get home?
She sniffed, breathed in the salty air. Dang, this was a bad day, regardless of the white sand, turquoise waves and golden sunshine. Proof that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
“I thought you only liked the white ones.”
Erika turned, not believing she hadn’t dreamed the voice. “Evan?”
He walked toward her, his bare feet leaving prints in the sand and his Georgia Bulldogs T-shirt pulling across an impressive set of pecs. Funny, she hadn’t noticed before how muscled he was.
“I thought you left already.”
She had asked at the front desk, but there wasn’t a room registered in his name. She hadn’t known the name of the friend he was staying with, but even so, the guy said the “college group” had left.
That
had begun her bad day. Butch and the biker babe merely added insult to injury. But now things were definitely looking up.
“I was supposed to. But the guy I rode with met a girl and wanted to spend some time with her before we head out. We’re leaving in a couple of hours.”
Erika had ventured out into the water to rinse off her latest shell, and he stepped in after her. At the same moment, a large wave burst toward the shore and smacked both of them.
Erika blinked through the salty splash on her face. Then, realizing she’d dropped her bag of shells, she turned to chase them as they drifted with the waves.
“Hang on, I’ve got it,” he said, reaching out and snagging the bag. Then he looked up at her with blue eyes the exact color of the waves around their feet.
“Thanks.” She took the bag, pausing when her fingertips brushed his.