Sweet Ride (17 page)

We pull out of the
driveway, but where we’re going I have no idea. Jack’s being
pretty tight-lipped—not telling me anything.

Our first stop just
happens to be at a gas station. There’s just something about the
smell of oil and fuel that gets a girl all hot and bothered. Very
romantic. Not! I wait by the bike while he goes inside to pay for the
gas. Suddenly, his ringtone goes off again. I swipe my finger across
the screen and answer it.

“Jack.”

“Payton.”

“Can I help you with
something?”

“Nope.” He
disconnects. That bastard! I can’t help but smile.

He exits from the
building and casually walks back over to me, but I see him looking
down at his phone. Then suddenly, his ringer starts blaring again.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry, called you by
mistake,” he says, shoving his phone back into his pocket and
climbing back onto his Harley. I hold on to his waist again as he
pulls away from the gas station. About five minutes later we’re
stopping at a grocery store.

“What are we doing
here?” I ask curiously.

“We’re going to be
gone most of the day. We need food.”

This time he removes
the helmet from my head and tells me to come in with him. I’m not
going to lie and say it isn’t weird to be grocery shopping with
Jack, because it totally is. The funny thing is, the only things I
want to buy here are lots and lots of chocolate sauce and whipped
cream. I can’t seem to wipe the goofy grin off my face. Then all of
a sudden, my damn phone rings again, and my smile quickly fades. I
have a feeling I’m going to hate the Divinyls after today. I look
at Jack and try not to smile, but I fail miserably. “You’re
really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah,” he
says with a grin.

After picking up some
deli sandwiches, a salad, and a couple of bottles of water, we make
our way to the front checkouts to make our purchase. While we stand
and watch the cashier scan and bag our items my freaking phone goes
off again. From my peripheral vision, I can see Jack’s body shaking
with laughter.

“That’s it, I’m
silencing my phone,” I threaten.

“I’ll knock it
off,” he says. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” I
warn.

Jack stores the bag of
groceries into the storage compartment on the back of his bike. We
both climb back on the motorcycle, and once again he drives us to
some unknown location. During the drive I slip my hands up the inside
of Jack’s shirt, placing my cold hands on his hard, chiseled
stomach. He sucks in a sharp breath at the skin-on-skin contact. A
little while later, I go to remove my hands, but he grips them with
one of his large hands, and I hear him yell over the rumble of the
bike and the buzz of the traffic, “Don’t fucking move them!” I
keep them where they are.

Twenty minutes later
and a few towns over, Jack pulls into the parking lot of this really
strange looking building. I’ve never seen it before so I ask him
about it.

“It’s a shooting
range. I’m going to teach you how to properly shoot a gun.”

What the hell? Okay, I
wasn’t expecting that. This is turning out to be a strange kind of
day.

Jack walks us down a
long hallway until we get to a set of locked double doors. He reaches
into his jacket pocket and takes out a card that he swipes to gain
entry. Once through the doors, he leads me to a row of what looks
like booths. He pushes me into one, slides in behind me, and then
decks us out in protective gear. He pulls a gun from a holster inside
his jacket and places it in my hand telling me that it’s a Glock
22—like that’s supposed to mean something.

He proceeds to give me
thorough instructions on how to aim and fire the gun correctly. The
first couple of times he keeps his hands on mine and guides my
actions. I don’t do too badly, until he leaves me to my own
devices. I couldn’t hit an elephant at point blank range if my life
depended on it. It’s not because I’m total shit at aiming and
shooting. I mainly blame Jack, because as I’m trying to shoot at
the target, he’s pressing into me with a very obvious hard-on, and
his thumbs are rubbing the skin on my waist underneath my t-shirt.
How’s a girl supposed to concentrate on shooting when that’s
happening?

While I’m reloading
the clip—I’ll be damned—I just barely hear Jack’s freaking
ringtone again. You’ve got to be kidding me. I twist around and
look at him with an arched eyebrow. “You do realize I’m holding a
loaded weapon, right?” I ask.

He removes the ear
defenders and growls, “Yep, and it’s got me so fucking hard.”

I reach down and grab
his cock with my hand, making sure to keep the hand holding the gun
away from him. “Keep it up, De Luca. And you’re going to be
shooting blanks courtesy of my new friend Mr. Glock,” I tell him.
All he does is smile that panty-dropping grin at me, and I turn into
a pile of goo.

“My turn,” he says,
taking the gun from my hand. “Shooting’s not your thing,” he
adds.

“Fuck you. I can’t
concentrate while you’re rubbing your hands and cock against me.
It’s very distracting. Let’s see how good you can shoot while I
rub my tits and pussy against your body.”

He lets out the deepest
and sexiest laugh I’ve ever heard. “That’s sounds like a
challenge, Ms. Clare. Challenge accepted.” I watch as he gets into
a perfect stance for shooting. When he raises the weapon, aims and
fires, I take the opportunity to press my tits up against his back
and grind my crotch against his hip. His left hand grips my hip,
effectively pulling me against him even more. After he empties the
clip, he brings the target forward to examine it. This time he’s
sporting his shit-eating grin when he shows me the target sheet. All
head shots.

“Show off,” I
mutter. He laughs and pulls me in, capturing my mouth with a kiss.
Damn, it’s pointless trying to put space between us.

“Why’d you bring me
here, Jack?” I ask after breaking from our kiss.

“Wanted to see how
hot you look firing my gun. I was not disappointed,” he admits.

“You look pretty hot
yourself,” I say, my lips brushing against his.

Jack rests his forehead
against mine and whispers against my mouth, “Let’s get out of
here.” I watch as he re-holsters his gun, and then turns, grabbing
my hand and lacing our fingers. We walk out of the building and head
toward his motorcycle again. He’s still being pretty secretive and
won’t tell me where we’re going next.

About ten minutes later
Jacks turns down a dirt side road, and about twenty minutes after
that the road comes to a dead end. The only thing I can see other
than trees is a small path heading to God knows where. Jack gets off
of his motorcycle and pulls me down by the waist. He takes my helmet
off and places it on the seat. I watch intently as he walks to the
back of his bike, removes his jacket followed by his gun holster. He
opens the storage container, hauling out the bag with our sandwiches,
salad, and a blanket. Then he replaces it with his holster. He closes
the lid and pulls a key out of his pocket, locking it.

“Jack, are you sure
about this?” I ask because I’m anything but sure. I haven’t a
clue where we’re going.

“Trust me,” he
says. “You’ll love it.” As long as I’m with Jack, I’m sure
I will.

He takes hold of my
hand and guides me toward the path. Jack doesn’t say much as we
walk to our destination, but I can sense a bit of unease in his
expression. It’s almost as if he’s nervous or not sure he should
be bringing me here. That’s crazy, right? I mean if he didn’t
want to bring me here, he wouldn’t.

After only a few
minutes, I hear the sound of water rushing close by. Another five
minutes pass by, and we break through the end of the path. Oh my God!
It’s breathtakingly beautiful. It’s like a little piece of
paradise. My eyes take in the slow moving river, the lush green
grass, and a huge California Pepper tree. Jack doesn’t relinquish
the grip on my hand as he leads me over toward the gigantic shade
tree.

Once we reach the tree,
I help him spread out the blanket and we sit down on it. Jack’s
strangely quiet as he unpacks our food. I’m not sure what to make
of it, but it makes me very uneasy. He always seems so sure of
himself, and it’s not like him to be so withdrawn.

“Jack, are you okay?”
I ask cautiously.

“Yeah, I just haven’t
been here in a long time,” he says in a shaky voice. His eyes
glance over at the river, and I can see the tears building up in his
eyes. “Be right back,” he says, getting up and walking toward the
water. I don’t follow him because he clearly needs a minute to
himself. How odd, I’ve never seen this emotional side of Jack. It’s
actually kind of comforting to know this total badass guy can be so
affected by something. I study his movements as he strolls along the
riverbank, stops, crouches down, and picks up a rock before throwing
it into the moving water.

Feeling like I’m
intruding on a private moment, I lie back on the blanket, close my
eyes, and enjoy the peace and quiet. Being out here kind of reminds
me of my father. When he was alive, he would sometimes take Ella and
me camping to a similar place in Massachusetts. I was a tomboy when I
was really young and loved going camping. Ella, on the other hand,
didn’t like it as much. She really only went with us because we
didn’t like to be apart for so long. I’m so relaxed I don’t
even realize that I’m getting sleepy and, before I know it, I fall
to sleep in the shade.

I wake up to shaking.
“Holy shit! It’s an earthquake!” I scream out in panic. My
mother warned me about all of the earthquakes California has before I
moved here, but I thought she was pulling my leg. Jack’s laughter
snaps me out of my panic.

“Relax, Payton. It’s
not an earthquake. I was just trying to wake you up, so we can eat
lunch,” he says, laughter still in his voice.

“It’s not funny,”
I say, scowling at him.

“Yeah, it is,” he
returns. Bastard!

Jack’s lying down on
the blanket—propped up on his elbows—watching me. I get the bag
with our lunch, take out his sandwich, and throw it at him. I watch
him as he unwraps his turkey, provolone, and tomato sandwich then
takes a massive bite out of it. “Fuck, that’s good,” he groans.

I’m starving, so I
take a smaller bite of my Caesar chicken sandwich. “Ohmigod,” I
moan, with a mouthful. “So good,” I add. Jack’s quiet chuckle
reaches my ears, and I can’t help but look over at him and smile.

When our bellies are
full, we both lie back and enjoy each other’s company and the
peaceful surroundings. Jack’s reaction when we first arrived is
unsettling, and it’s still at the forefront of my mind. If it was
so upsetting to come here, I’d like to know why he chose to bring
me here today. “Why were you so upset when we first arrived?” I
blurt out.

“My father used to
bring me fishing here when I was a kid,” he says, but doesn’t
elaborate. I know there’s more to it than that. Before I can ask
anything else, he looks over at the river and says, “I haven’t
been back here since he passed away.”

“Why did you bring me
here if it upsets you so much?” I ask cautiously.

“I used to love
coming here with my father, but once he was gone, it was too painful
to return without him. Now that I’ve got you in my life, I have
someone I can share this place with again,” he admits. He
understands what it’s like to lose a father, and it endears me to
him even more. I push him so that he’s lying flat on his back and
stretch my body out on top of his. My lips lightly brush the pulse
point in his neck, and I breathe in his clean, manly smell. I
continue placing soft kisses up his neck, across his jaw, and on his
lips. His hands go to my head, and his fingers tangle in my hair as
he presses me closer to his mouth.

“Thank you for
sharing all of this with me. I can see why your father loved bringing
you here,” I whisper against his firm lips. Jack starts kissing,
licking, and nipping his way across my jaw until he reaches the
sensitive skin behind my ear where he whispers, “He would’ve
loved you.”

I pull up quickly,
sitting up on his body, my legs straddling his hips. “Please don’t
say things like that when there’s no truth to them,” I say, my
voice trembling.

His hands reach up
pushing the windblown hair off of my face. They slide down and cup
the sides of my face. “Who fucked you up so badly?” he asks, his
eyes darkening.

“You don’t know
what you’re asking,” I respond defensively.

“I don’t know who
did it, and I don’t know what they did, but when I find out,
they’re going to fucking pay,” he angrily vows. I want to tell
him what happened, but I’m afraid that he’ll leave me when he
finds out, and I don’t think I can survive it right now. I just got
him back in my life, and I want to prolong it as much as possible. He
tugs me down toward him again, enfolding me in his arms and kissing
the top of the head. We stay like that for another five minutes or so
when Jack suddenly rolls me off of him.

“Come on, time to go
home,” he says, his gorgeous green eyes looking down at me.

“Do we have to?” I
ask, looking back up at him. A dazzling smile slowly spreads across
his face.

“We’ll come back
again soon, I promise,” his voice softens as he strokes my
cheekbone with one finger.

“Make sure we do,”
I say before brushing my lips against his, softly kissing him.

We pack everything up
and hike back to the motorcycle. Once Jack packs everything away, we
reluctantly head back home. I don’t think either of us is ready for
this day to end. By the time we pull into my driveway, the sun’s
already setting. Jack’s still respecting my need for time and for
us to take this a little slower, but I don’t know how much longer
I’m going to be able to do it. He’s beginning to wear me down.