Chapter Five

Faith

If I could think of anything other than Outlaw’s giant cock, that would be nice. I mean, maybe then I’d have run last night when he was in the shower, but I couldn’t. I’m stuck in this weird limbo of thinking maybe he wants me to seduce him and thinking he’s actually repulsed by me and everything I stand for. Either way, my clit is throbbing, and my thighs are aching for relief. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this turned on. Clearly, it’s clouding my judgment.

I blow out a heavy breath and roll toward the window. If I breathe him in any longer, I’ll probably die right here of desperation. Can that happen? Can a person die from sexual frustration?

I guess we’ll find out.

I think it was an excuse teenage boys made in those after-school movies. Maybe that’s the reason I chose abstinence. I didn’t want to accidentally kill anyone. Murder seems like a much larger charge than robbery. Honestly, though, I know in a few months my life is down the drain anyway, so maybe I should hop on this dude’s dick right now, take it for a spin, and live life like it’s meant to be lived.

The clock in front of me blinks. It’s four a.m. I must have slept a little. I’m awake like I did, though that doesn’t mean much. I’m pretty sure I was restless all night. I can’t figure out why Outlaw would do this for me. It doesn’t make sense. He could turn me in right now for a hundred grand. My nephew has had his surgery. They can’t rip the heart from his chest, so the dangerous aspect of this whole thing is over.

Outlaw’s not asking me for sexual favors, so what’s he getting from this? Does he really care that I get to Yellowstone to watch Danny smile at a parade of buffaloes? Something tells me that’s not the case.

The weight of Outlaw’s frame shifts in bed. God, I love this. I’ve never laid next to a man before, but if I ever were to again, I’d want him to be exactly like the man currently next to me. Everything about him is perfection.

His phone starts buzzing at his bedside. He reaches toward it with his giant palm and answers. “What?”

God, I love his voice.

“Mr. Klein?”

Mr. Klein?His name is Outlaw Klein. I bite back laughter. I never thought about him having a last name. I guess I figured he was like Madonna or something. His mail just comes to ‘Outlaw,’ and the post office knows to bring it to the giant who lives deep in the mountain.

“We have your sister, Carmen, here. She had another seizure. She’s stable now if you want to come get her.” I’m not sure if the phone is on speaker or not, but I hear everything like it is.

“Copy.” He has no emotional reaction, as though this has happened many times. Then again, maybe he never has any emotional reaction. Maybe that’s a red flag. Then again, I guess he has shown me empathy by giving me extra time. This is so confusing.

The phone drops back onto the counter and he rolls up with a grunt. “Get dressed.”

“Is she okay?” My tone is frantic. I’ve only known one person to have seizures, and that’s my sister. It’s how she passed. She had a major seizure which led to her car accident.

“She’ll be fine. This happens a lot. We’re going to be made fun of terribly, though, so get ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she likes to be right. So, when she sees that you spent the night, she’s going to laugh her ass off and never let us live it down.” He tugs on a pair of jeans and pulls a flannel over his t-shirt making the whole lumberjack vibe complete. “You want coffee?”

“Sure.”

He steps out of the room, and I tug on my dress from last night and check myself in the mirror. I look like hell. There are dark bags under my eyes, my hair is wild, and my cheeks look puffier than usual. I could also use some saline. These contacts weren’t meant to be slept in.

I rummage through his bathroom until I find a small travel sized bottle of eye drops and make use of it. People say you can tell a lot about a person through their medicine cabinet, but I refute that fact wholeheartedly. This man has toothpaste, mouthwash, and this small bottle of eye drops. That’s it. What can I tell with that information other than the fact that he keeps things uncluttered? I guess that’s a good thing.

“Come on,” he groans, holding out a mug of liquid. “The queen doesn’t like waiting.”

I don’t know much about his relationship with Carmen. I knew she had a brother, but she never gave much detail. Then again, I would’ve listened much closer had I known her brother was Outlaw.

“So,” I say, following him out toward his truck, “are you and Carmen close?”

He nods and opens the door, helping me inside. I wonder if it’s habit or if he’s doing it just for me. Last night he turned his back and let me climb off the bike on my own. I could tell that bothered him, but I figured it was his way of keeping control.

“Our parents died when she was young. So, I stepped in. There’s almost twenty years between us. She feels more like my daughter than my sister.”

I nod. “I’m sorry… that they passed. You mind me asking how?” I’ve always been too nosy for my own good. Part of me expects him to shut me down, but he doesn’t.

Why? Why would a man who’s only focus was to keep me captive tell me any personal details?

“Nothing dramatic. Old age. They had me and started fresh with Carmen later in life. She was fourteen when I took her in full time.”

It dawns on me just now that Carmen and I are the same age. God, I’m probably making a fool of myself with this guy. He doesn’t look at me like a sexual seductress. He looks at me like a kid. He probably fell asleep laughing to my stupid, awful, inexperienced blow job, and ugh…

I bite back a wave of nausea.

“You okay? The coffee bad?” He glances toward me then back at the road again. The night is especially dark with no moon and even the stars are clouded over. I’ve always loved nights like this. There’s something mysterious about them.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just exhausted today. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I’m sorry. We’ll have you in your room tonight.” He’s not speaking in single word sentences anymore. A rested Outlaw is a good Outlaw.

I nod and drag my gaze away from him and out the window. Technically, I don’t want my own room. I want to be in his. I want to snuggle up next to him like I did on his bike.

I need to get that out of my head. Clearly, it’s not happening and the mere thought of it only serves to drive me insane.

“Where did you guys grow up?” I’m learning more and more about myself by the second. Apparently, I talk to calm my nerves.

“I grew up in Oklahoma, but I followed my family out here after they had Carmen. They lived just south of the cabin I have today.”

That doesn’t add much to our conversation. While I’m creating a love story internally, I’m sure he’s calculating the days left to cash his check.

Why can’t I get that through my head. Am I that desperate for affection?

He clears his throat. “So, what did you want… from life. Before all this happened?”

Oh.My heart swells… like an idiot. It’s one question. But still, it’s a question!

“You’re going to laugh, but… I always thought I’d be a baker. I used to make these fancy cakes and pies for my mom and my sister.”

“So, you wanted to own a bakery?”

“Not really. I don’t want the pressure of owning it myself. I just wanted to blend in and bake. Just create things, ya know? What about you? Is the bounty thing your dream?”

He nods and I think maybe we’re having a real conversation. “Sort of. I wanted to be a cop, but I grew up poor, so I fell into working right after high school. Factories for the most part, then some landscape work. The MC was the best thing that happened to me, and the bounty hunting came shortly after. It’s been a good decision. I don’t have rules to live by for the most part and now that there’s an influx of assholes in town, it’s been nice to stay in one place and help people.”

I pretend he didn’t mean to call me an asshole. That comment was directed at all the other criminals.

“Yeah, I could see that. I miss being in one place, a lot. I miss my mom and nephew, too. It’s been months since I’ve seen them.”

“Did you ever want a family of your own?” He’s speaking as though those choices are over. As though my life is over. He’s not wrong, but his question brings a bit of sadness. When I robbed the banks, I didn’t think about the ripple effect all this would cause. I was only thinking about how much I loved my sister and my nephew. I was only thinking about how much they needed me.

I blow out a breath. “Yeah, I did. I always thought someday I’d have that big family like the ones on TV. Like, I remember watching episodes of this one show, and the mom and dad were happy and in love. The dad would say these snarky little comments and the mom would tell everyone, ‘Oh, don’t pay attention to him.’ It was cute, the way they bantered. And of course, they had five kids and all of them had their own issues, but they all worked together to make things right again. I wanted that. I’m sad that I can’t have it.”

“You never know.” He glances toward me. “They could take it easy on you.”

I laugh. “I stole two million dollars. I’m going to prison. I Googled it. I’m looking at thirty years. I’d be fifty by the time I got out. Fifty. I think that’s a little late to be having five kids.”

He flicks on the blinker and the truck bumps over the edge of the parking lot to the fire station. There’s not a hospital here in Rugged Mountain, but they have an urgent care that’s run out of the fire station.

“What about you? Do you want a family?”

He laughs. “Well, I’m forty-three, so apparently I have seven more years to start my life before my chance of a happily-ever-after is completely gone.”

Fuck. I knew I’d say something wrong.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m a woman and my eggs will be dried up before too long. I can’t have five babies at fifty, biologically. Well, I probably could these days, but you know what I mean.”

He laughs under his breath. “I know what you mean, little girl. Come on. Let’s go.”

I hop down out of the truck and glance toward him. As I do, I think I see a smile. A genuine, real, half smile. I ignore the butterflies that shuffle in my stomach and threaten the fairytales that rattle in my head. This isn’t one of Grandma’s stories. This was just a friendly conversation. Nothing more.