through his veins, slow and hot, those seconds of anticipation, remembering the taste and feel of her mouth, and already knowing this kiss would put that first one to shame—
“AnIakeoror-er?”
Rae jerked back and sucked in her breath.
Conn stayed where he was, in front of Rae, searching for the source of that garbled voice, yet finding no one.
“It’s the speaker,” Rae said, a bit breathless but her voice even enough that Conn fought harder to compose himself.
He managed it, barely. “Aye, someone is speaking,” he said, “but where is he?”
Rae sighed. “What do you want?”
Conn searched her face, not as composed as he’d thought he was.
“To eat.”
He grinned.
“Never mind,” she said, brushing him back with her hand so he had no choice but to flop into his seat.
The voice blared out again, still garbled, still disembodied, but he caught something about orders. The place must be run by soldiers, which made sense since the Scottish were perpetually at war with one another when there was no other enemy to be found.
“We’ll take a Big Mac,” Rae said, talking to the sign, “a fish filet, a chicken sandwich, a chocolate shake, fries, and nuggets.”
“How many?” asked the invisible solder
She slid a glance in Conn’s direction. “Do they come by the gross?”
Ten minutes later, money had exchanged hands and Rae had plopped two paper sacks into Conn’s lap, placed a drink in the cunning holder built into the vehicle, and pulled onto the road again. Conn knew he should be paying attention to their journey, but their attackers weren’t coming after them anytime soon, so his stomach took precedence.
Conn mowed through the sandwiches and fries, slurped down the shake, then paused to study one of the small brown lumps of food in the last container. “What is it?”
“A Chicken McNugget.”
He shrugged, popped one in his mouth, then devoured the rest and searched for more. To his disappointment the bags were empty, but by then they were back at Holly Grove. Rae parked the Hummer in the public lot, and they walked in, bypassing the tourist entrance for the participants’ camp.
She eased the door to her parents’ trailer open, and when she was sure they weren’t inside she went in. When she came back out, she was wearing her own blouse and jacket, along with a pair of Annie’s walking shoes and blue jeans. Her body was pretty amazing when she was wearing a skirt. She looked even more incredible out of it, long legs, slender curves, and the kind of unconscious grace she’d clearly inherited from her mother in a package that made him feel a thousand degrees hotter than friendly.
“So,” she said into the awkward silence, “where do you live?”
The last thing he needed was to take her to a place that included a bed—or what passed for a bed—but he walked by her, circled around the end of the Airstream her parents called home, and stopped at the lot next to it.
“This is where you live?”
“Aye.”
“In a tent.”
“As you see.”
“It’s smaller than my bathroom. Shorter, too.”
“But I can carry it on my back.”
The look she sent him over her shoulder told him she didn’t consider that much of a recommendation. She dropped to her knees and crawled between the front flaps of the tent, Conn following her denim-clad bottom—a little too closely for her preference, because when she looked over her shoulder and saw him right behind her, she flipped around and tried to scoot backward. She came up short against the far side of the tent. Conn kept going and ended up with his hands braced on either side of her, his knees between her thighs—all of him between her thighs, and his face already lowering toward hers. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, settled, but before he could sink in, before Rae could do more than begin to respond, she scrambled out from beneath him.
She distanced herself from him as much as possible, and her eyes were wide and a little panicked
“AnIakeoror-er?”
Rae jerked back and sucked in her breath.
Conn stayed where he was, in front of Rae, searching for the source of that garbled voice, yet finding no one.
“It’s the speaker,” Rae said, a bit breathless but her voice even enough that Conn fought harder to compose himself.
He managed it, barely. “Aye, someone is speaking,” he said, “but where is he?”
Rae sighed. “What do you want?”
Conn searched her face, not as composed as he’d thought he was.
“To eat.”
He grinned.
“Never mind,” she said, brushing him back with her hand so he had no choice but to flop into his seat.
The voice blared out again, still garbled, still disembodied, but he caught something about orders. The place must be run by soldiers, which made sense since the Scottish were perpetually at war with one another when there was no other enemy to be found.
“We’ll take a Big Mac,” Rae said, talking to the sign, “a fish filet, a chicken sandwich, a chocolate shake, fries, and nuggets.”
“How many?” asked the invisible solder
She slid a glance in Conn’s direction. “Do they come by the gross?”
Ten minutes later, money had exchanged hands and Rae had plopped two paper sacks into Conn’s lap, placed a drink in the cunning holder built into the vehicle, and pulled onto the road again. Conn knew he should be paying attention to their journey, but their attackers weren’t coming after them anytime soon, so his stomach took precedence.
Conn mowed through the sandwiches and fries, slurped down the shake, then paused to study one of the small brown lumps of food in the last container. “What is it?”
“A Chicken McNugget.”
He shrugged, popped one in his mouth, then devoured the rest and searched for more. To his disappointment the bags were empty, but by then they were back at Holly Grove. Rae parked the Hummer in the public lot, and they walked in, bypassing the tourist entrance for the participants’ camp.
She eased the door to her parents’ trailer open, and when she was sure they weren’t inside she went in. When she came back out, she was wearing her own blouse and jacket, along with a pair of Annie’s walking shoes and blue jeans. Her body was pretty amazing when she was wearing a skirt. She looked even more incredible out of it, long legs, slender curves, and the kind of unconscious grace she’d clearly inherited from her mother in a package that made him feel a thousand degrees hotter than friendly.
“So,” she said into the awkward silence, “where do you live?”
The last thing he needed was to take her to a place that included a bed—or what passed for a bed—but he walked by her, circled around the end of the Airstream her parents called home, and stopped at the lot next to it.
“This is where you live?”
“Aye.”
“In a tent.”
“As you see.”
“It’s smaller than my bathroom. Shorter, too.”
“But I can carry it on my back.”
The look she sent him over her shoulder told him she didn’t consider that much of a recommendation. She dropped to her knees and crawled between the front flaps of the tent, Conn following her denim-clad bottom—a little too closely for her preference, because when she looked over her shoulder and saw him right behind her, she flipped around and tried to scoot backward. She came up short against the far side of the tent. Conn kept going and ended up with his hands braced on either side of her, his knees between her thighs—all of him between her thighs, and his face already lowering toward hers. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, settled, but before he could sink in, before Rae could do more than begin to respond, she scrambled out from beneath him.
She distanced herself from him as much as possible, and her eyes were wide and a little panicked
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