Chapter 10

Ten

Harlowe

“Did you get everything they had made with high-fructose corn syrup?” I eyed the snacks and sodas Roc had dumped onto the seat between us when he’d returned from paying for the gas.

He cut his eyes to the ramshackle gas station. “Does this strike you as the kind of place to offer organic snacks?”

“You’re right.” I choked back a laugh as I picked up a honeybun wrapped in cellophane. I hadn’t eaten anything wrapped in plastic in a long time, and I found myself eagerly tearing off the wrapper.

Roc steered us from the station and out of the town, heading in the opposite direction from the farm. “The guy who owned the station said that we should stay on this road until it splits, then bear right and that will take us to the highway and to the airport.”

I took a bite of the honeybun, holding it with the cellophane to avoid getting the gooey sugar all over my fingers. Now that I was away from the private jet and the strict schedule, a part of me didn’t want to rush back to that life, even though it was the life I’d chosen and the one I’d worked hard to get. I made a noncommittal noise as I chewed the insanely sweet pastry and wondered why I’d ever given up sugar.

Roc swiveled his head to me for a beat as we drove down the two-lane road bordered by open fields on both sides. “Good?”

I moaned my answer then held it out. “You wanna bite?”

He started to shake his head then gave a half-shrug. “Why not?”

I twisted in my seat as I held it in front of his mouth. “I’ll hold it while you take a bite. Otherwise, you’ll get sticky stuff all over your fingers and the steering wheel.”

I carefully guided the gooey pastry to his mouth, but just as he took a bite, the truck jolted over a bump and the honeybun smushed into his nose. I jerked it back, but not quick enough, and fake, over-processed honey covered his green nose.

I could not keep the laughter from shaking my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?” He was chewing as he kept his gaze on the road, but I noticed that his lips were quivering.

I pawed through our pile of snacks with one hand while I held the dented honeybun in the other. “I don’t suppose we have any napkins in here?”

“No napkins.”

I popped open the glove compartment, which contained a jumble of AAA maps, a small flashlight, and a lug wrench, but no napkins. I slammed it shut.

“It’s fine.” Roc dragged his sleeve across his nose, and I cringed as the sticky substance was smeared over his black shirt sleeve.

“Your shirt!”

“After an emergency landing, no one will expect me to look perfect.” He flicked his gaze to me. “Besides, they will only be looking at you.” Then he darted a look to the suit jacket folded across the seat back. “And I will put on my jacket.”

I shook my head. “You are definitely not what I expected.”

The sun had dipped below the horizon, suffusing the sky with gold and pink light as we drove into the sunset.

Roc flipped down his visor. “Oh? What did you expect?”

“First off, I didn’t know it would be you. I suspected it would be someone from Orc, Inc., but I had no clue that you’d take the job yourself. And when I saw you, you looked so intense and serious. I remember you laughing a lot when you’d come to our house. I almost didn’t know it was you.”

Roc didn’t respond, but he twisted his hands on the steering wheel.

“I guess we both changed over the past decade, but I’m glad to see that you aren’t as scary as I first thought.”

He kept his gaze locked on the road as the colorful streaks in the sky faded. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You were doing your job, right? A bodyguard is supposed to be scary.” I covered the honeybun in the cellophane and replaced it on the seat. “I’m just glad to know that the old Roc is still in there.”

He didn’t respond, and I hoped I hadn’t offended him as dusk fell and bathed the countryside in shadows. We continued to drive, taking the right fork in the road, without passing more than a few other vehicles. We did pass a diner with a bright neon sign followed by an old-fashioned motel with a single strip of rooms and parking spaces angled in front of them.

I eyed the sign, craning my neck to continue reading as we passed. “Did that say, ‘The Velvet Cloak Inn’?”

Roc didn’t have a chance to respond as the truck spluttered and coughed, jerking beneath us. He cursed as the engine rattled and spasmed, smoke oozing from under the hood and curling into the air.

“What’s wrong?” I grasped the dashboard as if that might stop the violent convulsing of the truck.

“Probably a lot,” Roc mumbled darkly as he steered the truck to the shoulder of the road before it gave a final shudder and died.

We sat in the cab of the truck as steam poured from under the rusty hood, the acrid smell making my nose twitch.

I glanced at Roc’s tight jaw and even tighter grip on the steering wheel. “Now what?”

He exhaled, the breath hissing from him like the steam coming from the truck’s engine. “We pay a visit to the Velvet Cloak Inn.”

A trickle of unease slid down my spine, but I didn’t know if I was more nervous about the oddly named motel or about the prospect of being stuck there with Roc.