They are from two different walks of life. She's the spoiled daughter of a wealthy man, he's a bull riding loner--they have nothing in common. But one fateful night their lives intersect, and life as they knew it forever changes.
Kicking the deflated tire of her black Mercedes, Elizabeth shouted a curse into the air. The oath became lost in the howling wind, stamped out like a match under the pelting rain. She tried in vain to open the door again, banging it with wet palms that slipped across the waxed automobile when she remained locked out. Rounding the car, she tried the passenger side door. It was silly, she knew it was locked, but it was worth a try.
Had she known when she left the stifling confines of her home that her brand-new Mercedes would get a flat tire and she'd end up locked out in the pouring rain on a back road, she would have had that second glass of wine, escaped to the security of her room, and taken a hot bath.
She shivered. A hot bath would be wonderful right about now, but she was a long way from home--not that she wanted to be there anyway--and there wasn't another car in sight.
She blew out an angry breath and turned her back to the car. A light flickered behind her. She turned around and cupped her hands against the window. Dipping her head down between the shield her hands created, she saw her cell phone blinking in the passenger seat. The screen lit up and 'Caroline Webber' blinked across it. She banged the window.
Had she been smarter, she would have stayed in the car and waited for her mother to call back. But she had been her usual impulsive self, and now she was stranded in the rain while her phone rang inside the car.
She wrapped her arms about herself and stepped away from the dirt shoulder she'd pulled off on, and back to the road. There she debated whether or not to walk. When she had left her house, upset, she hopped in her car and floored it. She didn't know how long she drove, just that she did. The last distinct road sign she recalled seeing was some miles back. So basically she was in the middle of nowhere with no one to help her.
Elizabeth was damning her luck when a single bright light cut through the rain, beaming its ray down the rain-slicked road. A motorcycle, she concluded, pushing away the fear associated with that word.
Motorcycle men in this area of Texas weren't known for their friendliness, but rather for their nasty attitudes. They thought just because they rode a dangerous contraption (one she felt should be banned in every state), they were above it all. The few bikers that she had the displeasure of meeting, left her with no positive inclinations toward them as a whole.
She backed away from the road, seeking the safety of her locked car. It wasn't much comfort, being that she couldn't get inside of it, but the solid foundation it provided helped her nerves.
The rumble of the motorcycle engine alerted her to how near the biker was getting. She backed up until her back was so flat against the car that she thought she'd melt into it. I wish.
The bike growled as it slowed. Elizabeth sucked in a worried breath and wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the bike purred to a stop a few feet away from her stranded car. A leather clad body dismounted the bike and leisurely began his way over to her. The light of his bike was left on, and as he made long powerful strides in her direction, the bright white light glowed behind him, casting his tall frame in shadow.
He looked like hell walking out of heaven.
"What happened here?" he asked, still making his way to her car.
Oh, his voice. It wasn't the harsh grate she had been expecting, but rich and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Flat tire," she yelled to him, ignoring that shiver. "Can you help?" she asked, trying to remain as calm as she could. Inside she was a mess, unsure of this stranger in black leather with a voice like her father's most expensive brandy.
"That depends," he answered.
Suddenly he was right in front of her. Elizabeth had been so wrapped up in her fear, she let him get close without knowing it. She attempted to step back but the car stopped her, she side-stepped him and looked up to meet his eyes. He was wearing a helmet with an eye shield, so she couldn't make out his face. Not like it would matter if she could anyway, no matter what he looked like he was a biker, best to remember that.
She shook those thoughts away and asked, "Depends on what, exactly?"
He didn't answer, only stooped down and inspected the tire. "You have a jack and crowbar in the trunk?"
A what? Elizabeth thought, bewildered. At her silence he made a humph sound.
"You have no idea with a jack and crowbar are, do you?"
Elizabeth opened her mouth to defend her ignorance. Why should she know what those things were?
"Look," he continued, "just open your trunk and let me check it out. This is a pretty new car. There should be a flat tire set inside."
Elizabeth nodded--then remembered that she couldn't get into her car. "Actually, I locked my keys in the car. That's why I'm standing out here in the rain instead of inside the car waiting for a tow."
He stood up from his stooped position. "So you called a tow service?"
Elizabeth's cheeks warmed. That is what she should have done, but she went to check out the problem first. By the time she had realized that the tire was flat, she was already locked out. "No," she answered simply. Then she had a thought. "Do you have a cell phone?"
"No."
"Oh." Elizabeth shivered. She was going to catch pneumonia if she stayed out in this rain any longer. She stared at him through wet lashes. "Do you think you could get into the car without a key?" she asked hopefully.
"Unless you want your window busted out, no. I don't have the tools for that." He turned a look over his shoulder. "I can give you a lift somewhere," he offered.
Elizabeth eyed his bike warily. A lift on that screaming demon-no, she'd take her chances in the rain. "No, that's okay. But thanks anyway."
"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. I'll take you directly to where you want to go."
He sounded sincere enough. She looked past him back to the motorcycle. He must have caught her worry because he said, "Is it me or the bike you're afraid of?"
Elizabeth started to shake her head at his question, but stopped herself, figuring that he'd probably see through a lie. "A little of both."
Through the rain she could see him nod. He unzipped his leather jacket and slid it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt stretched over a muscular frame. He beckoned her with a wave of his black gloved hand. She hesitated.
"It's pouring and you're shaking like a leaf," he said, like it was explanation enough for his actions.
Apparently it was, because Elizabeth walked over to him. In one fluid motion he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders. "Put your arms in." Though it was a command, it sounded more like a request.
Elizabeth obliged, slipping one arm and then the other through the warmth of his sleeves. She hadn't realized how cold she had been until she was wrapped up in the comfort of his jacket, surrounded by his spicy scent. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he said, then stepped back and leaned against her car. His hands went to his helmet and in a flash it was off his head.
His profile was sculpted of sharp lines and smooth curves. Elizabeth admired that angle until he turned his gaze full on her. If she had thought that his profile was something worth admiring then his face needed to be worshiped. Handsome seemed too simple a description for him. He was striking, with eyes that sparkled like blue ice; sharp and knowing, and a mouth that she wouldn't mind pressed against her own.
A fierce blush rose on her cheeks, and she looked away. Had it still been pouring down, she might have continued to stare, but the rain was slowing now, and visibility was getting better. The last thing she needed on this wretched night was to be seen ogling a biker boy, even if he was gorgeous.
"What are you doing?" she managed to ask. Despite the rain, he reclined against her car. He didn't seem to be in the mood to move anywhere, and she was beginning to wonder what his intentions were.
"I'm waiting it out with you," he answered. "You don't expect me to leave a helpless woman out in the rain where anyone can come and snatch her, do you?"
"A helpless woman," Elizabeth scoffed. "I'll have you know that I am far from helpless Mr., Mr ..."
"Jason," he proffered at her expectancy.
"Mr. Jason," she finished, matter-of-fact.
His lips turned up at the corners. "Just, Jason."
Elizabeth was becoming increasingly irritated with him even though he had done nothing to warrant it, other than alluding to her being a helpless damsel in distress--which, she decided, was enough of a reason to be irritated.
"Were you going to a party?"
His question came out of nowhere, cutting into her reverie. She looked down at her attire, taking in the short red cocktail dress that was now hanging limply about her knees. "More like leaving."
"Sure you don't want me to take you back?"
"Oh, I'm sure," she answered, more to herself than to him. If she never saw Lucky Spencer again, it would be too soon.
"So, you're running from someone."
Elizabeth cut him a cross look. Why was he dipping into her affairs? "I'm not running," she snapped.
He turned those startling blue eyes on her and the world seemed to tilt. Elizabeth sucked in a breath, the world wasn't tilting, her stiletto heel was sinking into the wet soil. "Darn," she mumbled, lifting her heel from the mud.
The rain was beginning to come down hard again.
"If you don't want to go back to the party then I'll take you home."
Elizabeth wanted to laugh out loud. She couldn't go back home, that was the place that the party was being held. "I can't go home." She wasn't sure if she had said that out loud or not. Glancing at Jason, seeing the way he stared at her, she realized that she had spoken aloud.
She pulled her stare from him to a set of headlights coming down the road. A new hope welled in her chest. Maybe this person could help where the motorcycle man, Jason, hadn't been able to. She took a step forward and stuck her thumb up.
The car sped by without stopping. She wanted to scream.
~*~
Jason watched, amused, as the diminutive brunette dropped her hitcher's thumb, huffed and cupped her hands on her hips. Small hips; those. Even with his jacket billowing around her she was a slip of a woman. He half-expected her to poke her bottom lip out and stamp her foot on the ground. But she turned back to him, a fierce determination flaring in her deep blue eyes and said, "All right, I'll get on the darn bike."
He felt a laugh rise in his chest but covered it by clearing his throat. He knew that it took a lot for her to relent and accept the ride he offered, no use making a scene out of it.
Jason handed her the helmet, which she looked at like it was a lump of coal on Christmas morning. "You put it on your head."
"I know that," she chastised. She lifted the helmet over her wet head and pulled it down over dark hair plastered to her face.
Jason helped her adjust it as much as it could be. He then zipped her into his jacket. "Where to?" he tossed over his shoulder, already walking to the bike.
"Wherever you go."
Jason sighed, running a hand over his face. He had no problem taking the her where she wanted to go, he did, however, have a problem taking her along with him. Judging from the expensive car and the way she was dressed, he could tell that she was from money. And the last thing he needed was her family after him, trying to put him in jail for sullying their little girl with his presence.
Having that happen once was enough of a wake up call for him. After spending the night in county jail, he'd sworn off poor-little-rich-girls. "You can't come with me."
"Why not?" Her voice was muffled from behind the oversized helmet.
Jason settled himself on the bike and reached for her hand. She gave it to him, holding her dress down with the other hand as he guided her behind him. "Because, where I'm going isn't a place for someone like you."
"Just for the night," she pleaded. "Until I get things worked out in my head. By morning I should be able to think better."
Jason groaned. He should say no. It was the most logical thing to do. But she sounded like someone in need of a break, from what- he had no idea.
"Please, Jason."
And with that, he relented. "Just for the night," he agreed, revving the bike.
Pulling into the parking lot of the bar, Jason was anxious to get off the bike. He'd had women ride with him before, it wasn't anything new. But for some reason this woman behind him now, pressed tightly to his back, was doing things to his body that he'd rather not deal with or think about.
He helped her off first, steadying her footing, before getting himself off. She removed the helmet and handed it to him, moving wet hair off her face. She had a pretty face, heart shaped, milky complexioned. Her big cornflower blue eyes were wide now, roaming over the parking lot. Suspiciously eyeing the line of motorcycles parked outside of the bar.
"Where are we?" she asked, arranging her soaked dress over her knees.
"My home."
Her already wide eyes got bigger. "You live at a bar?" She didn't sound convinced.
"Not exactly. I live behind the bar."
She nodded slowly--not appearing sure of him--and Jason bit back a grin. It was likely that she had never been to a bar like Jake's before. It was even more likely, he thought, leading them behind the bar, that she had never been inside of a single-wide either.
"What's your name?" Jason was leading them back to his trailer.
"Elizabeth Webber. You live there?" she asked.
"Only when I'm in town," he answered, taking the steps up to his door two at a time; in to steps he was at the door. "Welcome to my home, Elizabeth Webber," he said, stepping aside so that she could enter.
If she was turned off by his humbly furnished home, it didn't show. She walked in, swept a glance over the space and motioned to the built in couch.
"Go ahead." Jason nodded at it.
She set herself down and leaned back with a groan. "It's so warm in here." Before he could reach the fan she said, "Feels good."
She was wringing wet, a shiver showed. "You can use the bathroom, it's small but efficient. I'll get you some warm clothes to put on."
She got up from the couch and unzipped the jacket. Pulling it off, she handed it to him. Jason took it and pointed to the door that the toilet and shower were behind. She turned toward it, and Jason's eyes landed on her exposed back. It was wrong of him to want to press his hand to the skin there, to run his finger from the nape of her neck down to the base of her spine, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it.
He breathed out a frustrated sigh when she disappeared into the bathroom. As he walked to the back of his trailer and into his room, he reminded himself that she was a poor-little-rich-girl, and that he'd had enough of them to last a lifetime.
Jason rummaged through the bags on the floor and found a pair of jeans and a shirt that his sister had left behind. Emily was always in and out of his place. Whenever things went wrong with her boyfriend, or was it fiancee? Whatever. Whenever things went wrong with Zander, she would holed up in his place until they worked it out.
Jason zipped the bag and left his room, stopping at the kitchenette to turn some coffee on to brew. He had promised Jake that he would stand security tonight in place of one of her guys that had been stabbed while on the job last night. He was going to need lots of coffee to stay up till the early morning hours making sure that the bikers and cowboys didn't kill each other ... or him.
He knocked on the door Elizabeth was behind, she cracked it open enough for him to hand her the clothes and a towel.
"Thanks," she told him. "I really appreciate this."
"It's no problem," he replied, closing the door.
~*~
Elizabeth pulled on the clothes Jason provided her with. They fit pretty well, whoever they came from must have been close to her size. She worked her fingers through her hair, wondering who the clothes belonged to? Probably his girlfriend, or wife, she thought in distaste.
Whoever it was probably wouldn't take too kindly to Jason riding her on his bike. Wistfully she thought of the bike ride. At first she had been petrified, though she tried to hide it. She had clung to Jason like a life-line. But then they started going so fast, she couldn't detect the ground from the air, and everything became a blur, and she felt like she was flying.
Her heart pumped faster at the memory of the ride. She breathed deep, slowing her pacing heart. If her mother had seen her, she would have died.
Elizabeth stopped fussing over her springy curls and laughed at the prospect of Caroline Webber falling dead. Shocked that her precious little girl had hitched a ride with a biker. She was still grinning at that thought when stepped out of the bathroom.
Jason was leaning against the front door, lifting a mug to his lips. Now that she had a good look at him under some real light, she noticed that Jason was a lot younger than she had first thought him to be. When he had taken his helmet off she had placed him in his late twenties, maybe thirty.
Something about the way he carried himself, made her believe that he had a lot of life experience.
Seeing him now, she'd say he was mid-twenties at best. Which made him about four years older than her. However old he was, he was handsome. Which had her again questioning if he had a girlfriend, and whose clothes she was wearing.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Sure." She nodded and nervously wiped her palms over jean clad thighs.
As he moved over to the kitchen she noticed that he had changed out of his wet clothes into jeans and a t-shirt. She looked around the small but cozy trailer seeking out any sign of a woman. She didn't find one.
Jason came back with the coffee. After she had taken a few sips and felt a little warmer, she asked about the clothes.
"They belong to my sister," Jason told her. He went on to explain how she lived with him from time to time. When she wasn't off God-knows-where. "She's about your size," he said. "You're a little shorter than I thought."
Elizabeth remembered her heels, she left them in the bathroom along with her sopping wet dress. "I'm not so tall without the heels."
He took another sip of his coffee while observing her over the rim of the mug. "You can use the room in the back to sleep," he said finally. "I have to work in the bar tonight-"
"You work in the bar?"
"Only when the owner needs my help."
"What do you do besides that?"
"Ride bulls."
Elizabeth nearly choked on the coffee she was swallowing. So not only did he go insane speeds on motorcycles, he rode bulls, too! "What are you, some sort of thrill seeker?"
His brows dipped, a frown marred his features. "No."
He became reflective and suddenly Elizabeth felt like she had conjured up some bad memories for him. "I didn't mean to offend you," she said. "It's just that I've never known a person to do both."
"I understand. Look, I have to get to the bar, so you-"
"Can I go with you?" She hoped he would say yes. For some reason, she found comfort in his presence and she didn't want to lose that just yet.
Jason's eyes raked over her. "I don't think it's your style."
That stung. "You don't know enough about me to say what my style is."
He sighed heavily, like he was dealing with a petulant child. "You can come along, but I have some rules."
"Shoot."
He set his mug in the sink. "You have to stay within my sight, no wandering off. You can't drink any alcohol-"
"I'm twenty one," she butt in, placing her mug next to his in the sink.
"My rules," he reenforced. "No alcohol, and no talking to men. In fact, just stay quiet."
Her face flushed in anger and embarrassment. Why would he make her agree to something like that? "What?"
"No offense, but it's written all over you that you're not from around these parts. A man might try to take advantage of that, and a woman ... Let's just say that they're not always so friendly."
Now would be a perfect time to tell him that none of those women could have anything on Caroline Webber. Her mother was what some would refer to as a "Class-A-Bitch." But she didn't want him to shut her down completely so she bit that reply back. "Fine. Anything else?"
"That's it."
She huffed and went to retrieve her shoes. With her heels back on, she walked out through the open door. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a cool breeze and a clear sky. The moon's glow lit their way to the bar.