Chapter 7

TWILIGHT TWISTS AND TURNS

7

"Wha—how did I—" I stammer, trying to make sense of this sudden change. It takes me a minute to readjust. Usually, when I go to bed, I'm looking forward to what my dreams will bring, but I wasn't expecting to fall asleep on the train and wake up in my fantasy world with Killian driving me around.

Did we kiss? Are we just coming back from the lake? We must be, at least judging from the fact that I'm still wearing my shorty-shorts and Killian his dirty black suit. Only the sky has gone completely dark now. Why didn't I go back to the moment when we were about to kiss? Is this a closed-door romance? Because in that case, I want out.

Well, not really. Even without the smut, not being kissed by Killian is still ten times hotter than anything that has happened to me in real life lately, including sex with Tim.

"Relax, darlin'," he chuckles, his gray eyes sparkling with amusement. "You were out cold. Must've been one hell of a day."

"Just a regular day," I retort, trying to regain my composure. "I'm a baker. I have to get up at dawn. Tuck in early."

Killian inclines his head slightly as if conceding to my point. "A baker, uh?" he says, his gaze returning to the road that stretches out before us, illuminated by the truck's headlights cutting through the darkness like twin lances. "That your archetype?"

"No." I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm clearly a boss girl."

Killian throws his head back and laughs. "Is that right?" he says, the laughter still clear in his voice. "Well, boss girl, where to now? Are you finally ready to admit you need me to drive you home because you've forgotten how to drive a stick for some mysterious reason?"

Before I can come up with a proper rebuke, a plume of smoke billows out from under the hood of my pickup.

"Uh, Sugar," Killian says, concern lacing his voice, "is your ride just a little temperamental like its owner or do we have a problem?"

The pickup responds with angry gurgling sounds.

"Great," I mutter under my breath as he guides the sputtering truck to the side of the road.

We both get out to go check the damage. The heat radiating off the engine is palpable as Killian pops the hood and grimaces.

"Looks like you've got yourself a busted radiator," he declares, wiping his hands on his jeans. He reaches for his phone but frowns when he realizes there's no service. "We're in a dead zone, too. Do you have your phone?"

"No." There wasn't one in the handbag at the shop.

"We can walk down the road, see if there's better reception ahead." He lifts his phone and angles it in different directions. "But, no, my battery just died."

"Are you kidding me?" I exclaim, frustration building. "This is all your fault. I just wanted to be left alone in my parked car in front of my shop."

"Whoa, hold up, Sugar," Killian interrupts, raising his hands defensively. "Last time I checked, it was your truck, not mine. Maybe if you'd taken better care of it, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Excuse me?" I snap back, indignation flaring. "I'll have you know I am very diligent about maintaining my truck!"

"Really?" Killian smirks, arching an eyebrow. "When was the last time you checked your coolant levels?"

"Um—" I falter, trying to recall if I ever even popped the hood.

Then I remember I don't really own a car, and this engine malfunction is clearly a fictional setup to keep the main couple in a forced proximity scenario.

"Thought so." He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself.

"Enough with the bickering," I huff, crossing my arms. "We need to find a solution."

"Alright, alright," Killian concedes, scanning the area. "There's a motel a few miles down the road. We can walk there."

"Walk? In these shoes?" I protest, glancing down at my fashionable but completely impractical clogs.

"Got any better ideas, Sugar?"

I stomp my foot down. "We're not walking to a random motel."

"Why not?"

"Because I know exactly how this is going to end."

Killian crosses his arms over his chest. "Enlighten me. I'm curious."

"We'll get there, and whoever is manning the place will tell you that the tow company won't be available until tomorrow—because small town and all…" I kick a pebble off the road. "Then our only choice will be to spend the night at the motel, and guess what?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Please continue, the suspense is killing me."

"They will only have one room available. And the room will only have one bed. So, thanks, but no, thanks. I'm not sharing a bed with you."

Killian shrugs. "Fine, if you prefer to sleep in your car. I'm going to the motel."

He walks off.

I trudge after him. "Are you serious right now? You'd just leave me alone in the middle of a dark road?"

He doesn't even turn as he replies, "No, Sugar, I've invited you to come along. You're leaving yourself alone on a dark road, boss girl."

"Fine," I grumble, begrudgingly following him, knowing I have little choice.

When I catch up to him, the satisfied smirk he gives me is exasperating. "FYI, we're not sleeping in a motel."

He's deluded. I want to see him fight against the romance gods. "Wanna bet?"

"What do I get if I win?" Killian asks, his stride confident and steady as we walk down the dimly lit road, his silhouette outlined by the occasional streetlight.

"What do you want?" I counter, trying to match his pace despite my impractical shoes.

"You'll owe me a boon." He glances at me, the moonlight casting shadows across his face, giving him an ethereal look.

"A boon?" I chuckle. "No way."

"Why not?"

"You're not a faerie prince, in case you haven't noticed. And even if you were, I'd say no."

"You haven't heard what I'm offering in return?"

"What?"

"I'll sell you the shop if you win, at cost." His tone is solemn now, and he stops walking for a moment, turning to face me fully. The earnestness in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Are you being serious?"

"Yes."

"You bet all your properties away?" I cross my arms, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice.

"It's not a bet if you know you're going to win." His smile is confident, almost cocky, as he resumes walking.

I don't really care about owning a fantasy bakery, but I care about winning. "Okay, I accept."

We continue in silence after that. As we make our way down the road, the discomfort in my feet quickly turns to pain. The leather straps bite into my flesh, blisters forming with each agonizing step.

"How bad are those clogs treating you?"

"It's okay," I blurt, wincing as I take another tender step.

"You're the worst liar, Spoon." He sighs, almost resigned as he stops again, bending down slightly. "Here, hop on. I'll give you a piggyback ride."

"Absolutely not!" I exclaim, pride overcoming my misery. "I can walk on my own, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself." Killian shrugs, continuing to stride effortlessly down the road.

But as the pain becomes nearly unbearable, I finally relent, swallowing my pride. "Alright, fine," I admit, defeated. "I could use some help."

"Thought you'd come around." Killian smirks, helping me onto his back.

As we continue toward the motel, my pain eases, and I can concentrate more on the warmth of his muscular arms wrapped under my naked thighs. Or the fact that my boobs are squashed against his back. Or how solid his shoulders feel under my arms.

"Having a good time back there?" Killian asks as if he could read my mind.

"Yeah, you make for a great pack mule, St. Clair."

"A mule?" he huffs, his voice carrying a hint of teasing as he adjusts his stride, making sure I'm secure on his back. "I thought I'd be at least a stallion."

I rest my chin on his shoulder. "Do you want to be demoted to a donkey?"

He chuckles, a low rumble that I can feel against my chest. "I suppose a mule will do," he concedes with mock solemnity.

We fall into a comfortable rhythm, the only sounds around us the gravel crunching beneath Killian's feet and the occasional call of night birds. I relax against him as an unexpected sense of safety and contentment engulfs me.

"Is that the motel up ahead?" I ask as a neon sign flickers into view.

"Yep," Killian replies curtly, his voice strained from carrying me for the past twenty minutes.

We make our way across the parking lot, Killian nearly stumbling twice over the cracks in the concrete.

"Here we are," he announces as we reach the motel reception. The dingy lobby awaits us behind a dirty glass door, its faded wallpaper peeling at the edges. "Ready to get down?"

I'm not entirely sure. But before I can reply, Killian gently lowers me to the ground. I wobble a bit before finding my footing. After being carried for the last mile, my legs feel like jelly.

"Steady?" he asks.

"Yep, sorry. My legs fell asleep back there. Thanks for the ride." I force a laugh to cover my fluttering nerves and push open the door to the lobby.

"Anytime," Killian says with a mock bow, and I can't help but smile as we step inside together, ready to face whatever this motel has in store for us.

"This place looks like it hasn't been updated since the fifties," I whisper as we walk into the dimly lit reception. The smell of stale air mixed with cheap air freshener assaults my senses.

I suppose it could be worse. At least it's not some creepy Bates Motel. Still, as a faded "Vacancy" sign blinks in my face, my stomach knots at the thought of spending the night here with Killian. Just the two of us. Alone. In one bed. Because that's how it's going to go. I'm in a romance novel, after all, I'm sure.

"Hopefully, they have a phone that still works." Killian smirks and approaches the reception desk where an older woman sits, flipping through a gossip magazine.

"Excuse me, ma'am." I speak before he can, taking control of the situation. "My pickup broke about a mile or two down the road. Any chance we could use your phone to call a tow truck?"

She looks up from her magazine, sizing us up before answering. "Sorry, darling, but the towing company doesn't work this late. However, I do have one room left if y'all need it."

Aha!

I tap my foot on the floor, suppressing a grin. "Well, would you listen to that?" I say, trying not to sound too smug. The bet is as good as won.

But Killian leans on the counter, slipping the receptionist a fifty. "Mind if I try the phone anyway, sweetheart? I'd be much obliged." He gives her a wink.

The woman hesitates for a split second before accepting the money and sliding an old dial phone across the counter. Killian composes a number, speaking in hushed tones when the line connects, while I wait, impatiently tapping my foot faster. After a brief conversation, he hangs up, thanks the receptionist, and motions for me to follow him outside.

"Where are we going now?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Patience, Spoon. You'll see soon enough." He grins, leading me to the parking lot.

We wait in the crisp night air. I'm beginning to shiver when headlights cut through the darkness. Two luxury SUVs roll up and stop in front of us.

A muscular guy hops out of the first truck and hands the keys to Killian. "She's all gassed up for you, boss."

"Thanks," Killian replies, tossing the driver the keys to my pickup. "We left an old Chevy pickup just down the road. Can you tow it to the repair shop?"

"Sure thing, boss." Short of giving Killian a military salute, the man turns around and leaves. He climbs into the other SUV and they drive off.

Twirling the new set of keys over a finger, Killian faces me with a grin. "Need a ride home?"

He moves to the SUV and holds the passenger door open for me.

I huff, arms crossed, and curse that lopsided smile. I've lost this round, but the game is far from over.

I slide into the passenger seat, secretly wondering if I'm more relieved or disappointed that the one-bed scenario isn't happening.

While I brood, Killian smoothly takes the driver's seat and starts the engine.

We cruise along the quiet streets back to my place. Even if we're supposedly driving to my house, I've no idea where we're going, so I'm unprepared when the car stops. Even more so when, before I can take in the unfamiliar trees and houses on my block, Killian is suddenly at my door, opening it for me like a true gentleman.

"Thanks for the ride," I say, dismounting, surprised by his chivalry.

"Of course," he replies casually, shutting the door behind me. "So, is this goodnight?"

"Yep." I nod. "Goodnight, Killian."

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. "You're not going to invite me in for coffee?" His suggestive tone implies he's after more than caffeine.

"Is that code for something?" I ask coyly, fully aware of the innuendo. "Because I will definitely not be inviting you in for ‘coffee.'"

"Are you sure?" he presses, leaning in ever so slightly. The mischievous glint in his eyes is tempting.

Just as I open my mouth to retort, viselike hands grab my arms from behind and yank me backward. My heart leaps into my throat as I'm ripped away from the safety of Killian and my doorway into nothingness.