against her in all the wrong ways, ways that were dangerous when combined with the look of desire Remy was hitting her with at the moment.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She turned to focus on the gas gauge. A few seconds passed, and she was unable to help herself from looking back across the truck. He’d fallen asleep, once more. She exhaled. Good. If he was sleeping, it meant he wasn’t looking at her with sex in his eyes, and that was for the best. For both their sakes. Just as soon as his eyes were closed, however, they’d popped back open.
“What is it?” Violet asked as he reached for his door handle. “What are you doing?”
“Bathroom,” was all he grumbled, throwing her a look when she immediately hopped out of the car and circled around to the passenger’s side, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “I don’t need your help, Chambers.”
“Your leg begs to differ. You can’t even stay awake for five minutes at a time. I’d say you do need my help, and if your pride won’t allow you to admit it, then I’m just going to have to give it without you asking. Now come on.”
They began an uneven walk towards the run down, sanitarily questionable door of the gas station bathroom. One look at that door had Violet cringing. She didn’t even want to think about the treasures it had inside. She doubted this shithole even had toilet paper in there, let alone soap.
Once the made it to the door she pulled it open for Remy and, to her surprise, it wasn’t nearly as disgusting as she imagined. The appliances were old and run down, but it was apparent someone made an effort to keep it clean and stocked.
“Be quick,” she said, as he held onto the doorframe and stumbled inside, slamming it closed behind him.
From the distance, she heard the gas pump finally jolt to a stop, relieved that just as soon as Remy was finished in the bathroom they could get the hell out of there. She gave a knock on the door. “Pump’s done, let’s go. We can’t hang around for too long.” She realized that people who bothered other people in the bathroom were the worst kind of humans, and she was now one of them, but Remy was truly taking longer than she cared for, and it was making her nervous.
As if confirming her paranoid thoughts, a police cruiser came driving slowly up the road in the distance.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, pulling the second Yankees cap she held in her hand on her head and over her eyebrows, watching the cruiser from under the brim as it rolled slowly down the road. Was he slowing down? “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…” She prayed softly, then cursed to herself when the cruiser made a sudden turn into the station, pulling up to the pump directly adjacent to the truck.
She was now hoping that Remy took his sweet ass time in the bathroom, and even pressed her back against the door, just so she could push it closed if he tried to open it.
She hoped he still had that Yankees hat pulled low on his forehead, then realized it wouldn’t matter. Remy was attractive to an unusual degree. If he came out of that bathroom, she knew the cop could look at him, because it was impossible not to. He was too tall, too domineering, too blessed with a remarkably handsome face that demanded attention--from both men and women. Once that cop got a look at him… his face would be instantly recognizable, even with that hat on. The full pink lips, the strong shadowed jaw, and the smatterings of dark blonde hair peeking out from the back were all more than enough to motivate an officer to take a second look. The voices on the radio were already calling him the most wanted man in America. Surely anyone who studied that his face of his for longer than half a second would immediately recognize him.
From what she’d seen on the small television screen that’d been playing the news inside the gas station, the police still didn’t know they were alive.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She turned to focus on the gas gauge. A few seconds passed, and she was unable to help herself from looking back across the truck. He’d fallen asleep, once more. She exhaled. Good. If he was sleeping, it meant he wasn’t looking at her with sex in his eyes, and that was for the best. For both their sakes. Just as soon as his eyes were closed, however, they’d popped back open.
“What is it?” Violet asked as he reached for his door handle. “What are you doing?”
“Bathroom,” was all he grumbled, throwing her a look when she immediately hopped out of the car and circled around to the passenger’s side, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “I don’t need your help, Chambers.”
“Your leg begs to differ. You can’t even stay awake for five minutes at a time. I’d say you do need my help, and if your pride won’t allow you to admit it, then I’m just going to have to give it without you asking. Now come on.”
They began an uneven walk towards the run down, sanitarily questionable door of the gas station bathroom. One look at that door had Violet cringing. She didn’t even want to think about the treasures it had inside. She doubted this shithole even had toilet paper in there, let alone soap.
Once the made it to the door she pulled it open for Remy and, to her surprise, it wasn’t nearly as disgusting as she imagined. The appliances were old and run down, but it was apparent someone made an effort to keep it clean and stocked.
“Be quick,” she said, as he held onto the doorframe and stumbled inside, slamming it closed behind him.
From the distance, she heard the gas pump finally jolt to a stop, relieved that just as soon as Remy was finished in the bathroom they could get the hell out of there. She gave a knock on the door. “Pump’s done, let’s go. We can’t hang around for too long.” She realized that people who bothered other people in the bathroom were the worst kind of humans, and she was now one of them, but Remy was truly taking longer than she cared for, and it was making her nervous.
As if confirming her paranoid thoughts, a police cruiser came driving slowly up the road in the distance.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, pulling the second Yankees cap she held in her hand on her head and over her eyebrows, watching the cruiser from under the brim as it rolled slowly down the road. Was he slowing down? “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…” She prayed softly, then cursed to herself when the cruiser made a sudden turn into the station, pulling up to the pump directly adjacent to the truck.
She was now hoping that Remy took his sweet ass time in the bathroom, and even pressed her back against the door, just so she could push it closed if he tried to open it.
She hoped he still had that Yankees hat pulled low on his forehead, then realized it wouldn’t matter. Remy was attractive to an unusual degree. If he came out of that bathroom, she knew the cop could look at him, because it was impossible not to. He was too tall, too domineering, too blessed with a remarkably handsome face that demanded attention--from both men and women. Once that cop got a look at him… his face would be instantly recognizable, even with that hat on. The full pink lips, the strong shadowed jaw, and the smatterings of dark blonde hair peeking out from the back were all more than enough to motivate an officer to take a second look. The voices on the radio were already calling him the most wanted man in America. Surely anyone who studied that his face of his for longer than half a second would immediately recognize him.
From what she’d seen on the small television screen that’d been playing the news inside the gas station, the police still didn’t know they were alive.
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