Impossible (7 page)

“That’s gross,” I whispered while scrunching up my nose in disgust.

He just chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and
I let him
. Crazy.

We moved to the door, passing our waitress on the way out, and she sent me one last glare for the road. I should probably get used to women hating me. Oh well, nothing new. People in general had been hating me for a few years now.

Coleman pushed the door open and requested, “Just let me get my stuff outta my truck,” squeezing my shoulder as he stepped away.

As he walked away from me, I took the opportunity to watch the way the back of him moved very seriously. He was in his jeans, t-shirt, and boots, like always (not that I was one to talk), and
good God
, they fit him well.

His jeans formed perfectly to his ass, and he walked the way he did everything else- with ease. The muscles of his back flexed and flirted with me with every step he took.

I was so focused on his back and ass that I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of a car horn blaring from behind me. “Ahh!”

Whipping around, I saw that I had been standing right behind a car that was trying to back out of its spot to leave. Whoops.

I waved my hand and gave the driver a sheepish shrug, but he continued to give me a hard look.

Oh, I was still in the way! Damn Coleman Cade and his brain fog inducing powers!

“Sorry, geez, sorry,” I muttered as I finally jogged out of their path.

There was a girl in the passenger seat, and as they drove out she looked to Coleman, then back to me and gave me a look that said she understood. She also looked a little jealous.

When the offending car cleared my path, I could see Coleman again, bag slung over his shoulder, smirk on his face, and he was sauntering my way.

“Ready to show me your stuff, Banty?”

My mind was in a dirty place from staring at him, so all I could manage was a confused, “What?”

Biting his lip and shaking his head, he put his hand to my hip, and I almost fainted. Oh my God, I had to get it together or I really would end up getting us freaking killed.

“Your technology, knowledge, chasing skills...your stuff.”

Oh, yeah. Of course that’s what he meant. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go.”

********

We were about an hour into, or halfway through, the rest of our drive after leaving the Eat-N-Go. Coleman had been pretty quiet, mostly just observing me. And that was freaking me out.

He had made a show of putting on his seatbelt securely when he first got in, and I had made it a point to tell him what an asshole he was. Which of course, made him burst out laughing.

Now we were cruising along, and while I wasn’t enjoying his careful observation, I was enjoying the silence. Because silence meant no questions.

Just as I was congratulating myself on this nicety with my internal monologue, he burst the bubble.

“So, Roni.”

Crap. Nothing good ever started with a “So, Roni.”

So, Roni. We know you like this Josh boy, but he’s not right for you. He’s taking your focus away from important things.

So, Roni. You actually think you can chase storms with the big boys?

So, Roni. How about we go do what you’ve been begging me for? (Cue inappropriate touching followed quickly by a knee to Max’s balls.)

As far as now was concerned, I just knew I was about to get hit with a “Tell me about yourself” or some other probing question.

“Where are you from?” Coleman asked.

Well, look at that. I was right. However, as far as these questions went, it was a fairly easy one.

Keeping my answer to a bare minimum, I murmured, “Just outside of Little Rock.”

“Arkansas, huh? Hmm.” I glanced away from the road, looked at him, and saw that he was tapping his fingers against his soft lips.

He pretended to mull that over for a minute and then casually added, “Family?”

Yep. There it was. The dreaded question. Normally, this was a bright spot in someone’s “get to know you” journey. For me, it wasn’t. Not in any way, shape, or fashion. My parents sucked, and everyone else was dead or as good as gone.

“Don’t have any,” I replied curtly, trying to cut off the questions without being an absolute bitch. Unfortunately, I had the feeling I was failing.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and I could see he was putting his kid gloves on, finding his balls, and figuring out how he was going to keep the caged animal that was me calm.

“So-”

Not letting him get any further I blurted, “Don’t.”

His eyes were assessing, his thoughts complex, but his response was simple. “Roni.”

“Please. Ask me something else, just don’t go
there
,” I pleaded quietly.

“Alright.” He thought on it for just a couple of seconds and then moved on. “How old are you?”

Trying to break the tension I muttered, “You know, you’re not supposed to ask a woman that question.”

“Roni.”

I heaved a breath, and on the exhale answered, “Thirty.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he murmured quietly, “Ah, that’s perfect.”

It seemed like he hadn’t meant for me to hear that comment, but I had.

My head whipped furiously between looking at the road and glancing at him. “Perfect for what?”

Weighing his options, he waited for a few seconds before answering, “Me.”

“How is thirty perfect for you?”

I saw a flash of something cross his face, but he quickly hid it before moving on to give me an answer.

“Okay, pay attention because I’m only gonna go through this explanation once,” he said with mock seriousness while shaking one long perfect finger at me.

“Okaaaay.” I drew out the word intentionally, based on what the vibe that was rolling off of him. He had started it like a joke, but I could see in his eyes- his freaking beautiful eyes- and in the lines of his face that he was serious. He was playing the answer off like it was a joke, but it most definitely wasn’t one to him. It was personal.

Smartly, I was getting scared.

“Well, I’m thirty-two and I’ve always wanted a woman younger than me, but old enough to get it. Old enough to understand life the way I do, old enough to understand hard times, old enough to like the fact that I had CJ in my life and not see it as a burden.”

That made good sound sense, but it didn’t seem to warrant any uneasiness on his part and I didn’t think that it was a complete answer. Fishing to get further into his brain, I questioned, “Why younger than you?”

He shook his head as he muttered, “It’s not for shallow reasons like you would think. I’ve met some older women with absolutely bangin’ bodies.”

Undeniably, I wasn’t a fan of hearing about his other women, and I didn’t mind if he kept that part of the commentary to himself, shooting him a grimace that told him so.

“Anyway, there are a couple of reasons. First of all, I always liked the idea of the possibility of more kids. It’s not a must, but it is a plus.”

Another rational answer. The younger the woman, the better odds for safe pregnancy and for straight up desire to reproduce.

He paused again, carefully considering the fact that he was about to tell me the rest, and I could see it wasn’t an easy decision to make. “And I know that this thought is a little on the irrational side but I’ve always had it. I figure if a woman’s younger than I am, I got a better shot at not havin’ to watch her die.” He licked his lips, trying to find the right words to explain what he was trying to get across to me. “You find somebody that means that much to you, somebody you weren’t born to love- like your family...because trust me, I know that love is strong enough...but this is different...somebody you legitimately fuckin’ choose to love, to spend all your time with...and you had the option not to...I’m just not sure I could handle being the one to lose it.”

If I’d looked into his eyes I might have seen that what he was saying was coming from some deeper place. A place that suggested a true, gut-wrenching knowledge of loss.

But I didn’t, because I was going to be sick. Slamming on the breaks and swerving to the side of the road, I just barely heard his, “Roni, what the fuck,” before I jumped out of the barely stopped car and ran for the grass, my steak and potato making their second appearance not a second after I got there.

As I heaved and choked, I felt him move in behind me, grabbing my hair and rubbing my back in soothing circles.

“Jesus, Roni, you okay baby?”

I shook my head, unable to answer and then threw up again.

He didn’t know just how much I understood what he said. How much I knew how it felt to be the one to lose everything. The one who survived. He didn’t know how impossible it was to get over. But he had pictured it. When he looked into his future, he longed to not have to deal with it, and I couldn’t blame him. But it also meant that I was the absolute wrong woman for him because I sure as hell couldn’t do it again. And on top of all that, as if it wasn’t freaking enough, I couldn’t have more kids. I had always known the accident had done too much damage.

When I thought I had everything out, Coleman pulled me back into his arms and settled me in the grass.

“Sit sweetheart. Relax.”

He sat with his legs surrounding me on the shoulder of the road and rubbed his hands up and down my bent legs in soothing strokes, whispering into my ear with gentle words the whole time.

After a few minutes of just sitting there together, he whispered directly into my ear, “You okay, baby? You want me to get you some water or anything?”

I shook my head but whispered contradictorily, “I just want to brush my teeth.”

He kissed my hair and then extricated himself from around me carefully, letting his hands slide up my body as he stood up.

“I’ll get your toothbrush and a bottle of water.”

Pulling my knees together, I put my forehead down on them and wrapped my arms around myself. Ugh. What was I going to say to him? How was I going to explain myself?

He was back in what seemed to have been only seconds, and I decided to put the fact that he had had to dig through my bag to find my toothbrush out of my mind.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I opened the bottle of water and wet my toothbrush, making quick work of putting the toothpaste on the bristles and brushing the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

“You sure you feel up to chasing today? Or do you just wanna find a room somewhere and get some rest?”

A room somewhere? Absolutely not. “I want to chase. I’m fine.”

He sighed deep, obviously resigning himself to the fact that I was determined to keep my plans as they were, and then grumbled, “At least let me drive the rest of the way to where we’re starting.”

That I could agree to. He would have to focus on the road instead of me, which was right in line with what would make me feel better.

“Fine.”

He squatted down in front of me, his hands finding their way to my jaw. “Do you need to sit out here for a minute or are you ready to go?”

I started to stand up in answer, but before I knew what was happening his arms went under me, and he scooped me up.

I shrieked, “What are you-”

“Shh. Just relax.”

I narrowed my eyes and mumbled, “I don’t need you to carry me.”

“I know you don’t need me to, baby. But I want to,
I
need to. I don’t like seein’ you so vulnerable. You’re normally so strong.”

If he only knew. God, maybe he didn’t know me at all. I wasn’t strong. It was all a front.

When we got to the Tahoe, he opened the passenger door and set me inside. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the headrest as soon as my ass hit the chair.

I figured he would move away, shut the door, get on with it- you know, the actions that most people would move on to. But, no. He moved into my space, cupped my cheek, and touched his lips to mine.

I jerked my head back, my eyes flying open, and I squealed, “What are you nuts? I just got done puking.”

He looked right into my eyes, a tiny smile lifting one corner of his mouth as he whispered, “Trust me, Banty. I’ll take your lips any way I can get them.”

“You really are crazy.”

He just smiled even bigger and then touched his lips to mine again, my eyes open and watching him the whole time.

When he pulled back, his smile was still wide on his face as he whispered, “People tell me that all the time.”

I just looked at him, the feel of his lips once again fresh on my mind, and watched as he backed away, shut my door, rounded the hood, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

He didn’t hesitate to fire it up and pull the gear shift into drive, looking over his shoulder before he pulled back onto the road and put his foot on the gas.

Speaking calmly, like he hadn’t just kissed me multiple times and rocked my world, he muttered, “I’ll do my best to come close to the schedule you would have kept.”

I fought to keep my voice even and answered, “I’d appreciate it. We still have a lot to do when we get there.”

“No problem.” He looked over at me, lifted a hand to my face, and rubbed his thumb against the purple circle I knew was under my eye. “Why don’t you take a nap while I drive?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to nap because I didn’t know how I would wake up, but it was like he was the Sandman because not a scant second after he said it, I drifted off.

While I slept, I felt like I could hear him talking to someone, maybe on the phone. “I know. You were right about her. She’s that something special we’ve been waitin’ for.”

I couldn’t focus on it, and I couldn’t pull out of my sleepy haze, so I guess I would never know what he really said, or who he said it to, or what it meant.

********

I jerked awake, a few of my short screams filling my ears, but instead of comforter, my fingers of one hand curled into the leather of the passenger seat of my Tahoe while the other moved mindlessly along my scar.

And then I remembered where I was and who was with me. Shitdizzle.

I sat up quickly, pulled my hand away from my scar and searched the empty car. What the hell? Where was he, and why were we stopped?