At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(16)

He was parked on the street several car lengths down from the bar. He bleeped the locks as we approached and when we got there he pulled open the passenger side door.

For some reason his truck seemed significant to me and my first ride in it even more significant so I just stood in the door, staring at the seat I should be planting my ass in and not moving because I was both unbelievably scared and utterly thrilled. Neither feeling made a lick of sense but I had them both all the same. It was like, if I got in his truck and the door closed on me, my life was going to change radically.

“Buddy, climb up,” Joe sounded impatient when I just stood there staring in his truck and he used my hand to push me closer to the seat.

I tipped my head way back and looked at him. “You have a nice truck,” I informed him mostly in an effort to stall.

Joe ignored my compliment and ordered, “Climb up.”

“Maybe I should walk home,” I suggested.

Joe stared down at me a second then he let go of my hand, bent at the waist, slid an arm behind my knees and one around my waist and, within half a second, my ass was in the seat. Another half a second, the door was closed.

Joe Callahan just lifted me bodily into his truck.

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“What’s the matter with me?” I whispered into the cab and opened my eyes to see Joe had rounded the hood. He opened his door, swung his big body behind the wheel and slammed his door.

We were both in and that feeling of fear assailed me, along with the thrill but the thrill was edging out the fear. I was in the passenger seat of a car, it wasn’t me driving, it wasn’t me responsible. It was me who got to sit back and relax and be taken home.

And I was in that truck with Joe Callahan. Joe Callahan who was scary and thrilling all in himself. He was more man than I’d ever known and I spent most my adult life around cops. His maleness filled the cab, dangerous, assertive, assaulting my senses. I didn’t like him, I was pretty sure of that fact but I admitted, drunk and sitting in his truck, that he fascinated me and not because he was Security to the Stars but because he was Joe Callahan.

“You wanna buckle up?” Joe asked and I turned to see he was facing me, forearm on the steering wheel, the truck was running and Joe was looking as impatient as he sounded.

He wanted to get home.

I wanted to know where he got those scars on his cheek.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and buckled up.

Joe put the truck in gear and pulled into the street.

“This is nice of you,” I said as he drove.

Joe didn’t answer.

I realized Joe wasn’t much of a conversationalist at about the same time I realized the truck was nice. It was clearly top of the line with all the bells and whistles and he took care of it. It wasn’t just shiny on the outside but the inside was clean and looked brand new. The ride was quiet and smooth and Joe drove the big truck like he was born behind the wheel of a pickup.

As he drove silently, I was again reminded how nice it was just to sit back and let someone drive me home. There was no particular reason I was having this feeling since, not but a few hours earlier, Colt and Feb took me to J&J’s. And Tim always drove, I couldn’t remember a time when we went somewhere when he wasn’t at the wheel. This never bothered me, I didn’t care if he drove, it only bothered me when he wasn’t around to do it anymore but, after nearly a year and a half, I’d gotten used to it. Now I realized I missed it.

I was so deep in these thoughts I didn’t notice that we were on our street until Joe turned into his drive and something new hit me. Like being in the truck with him, the sensation was strong, it was scary and it was thrilling. After seeing this truck in his drive on and off for months, even before knowing Joe, but definitely after, and now sitting in his truck, in his drive, staring at his house through the windshield, a vantage point I never thought I’d have, I felt something I didn’t understand. There was something profound about it, something I couldn’t put my finger on but, for some weird reason, it felt life-altering.

I jumped when Joe’s door slammed and I found myself nervous. I turned and fumbled with my buckle, getting it released only when Joe pulled open my door. I hitched my purse up my shoulder and hopped out of the truck. Joe had his hand on the door so I moved out of the way, he threw it to and I looked at him to give him my thanks again for the ride but he was moving.

I stood there for several beats as I watched his big body walk across the yard toward my house.

Even though I lived next door, in Joe Callahan style, he was going to walk me safely home.

I didn’t know what to feel about this but had no time to figure it out and no choice but to follow him, pulling my purse from my arm and digging through it to get my keys as I walked. I had my keys in hand, the correct one between my fingers and Joe was standing in the light I’d turned on by the side door when I arrived. I stopped, Joe took the keys from my hand and he slid the key into the lock, turned it, slid it out and opened the door.

I swallowed nervously as the beeps went for the alarm. Moving just beyond him, I twisted my torso into the house, punched in the code and the beeping stopped. I took a deep breath, pulled my torso out of the house, turned and tipped my head back to look at him.

In the outside light, the night shrouding us, he looked sinister again just as much as he looked rugged and interesting and something new assailed me. It was that fear, that thrill but there was something else. Something insistent, needy, like a hunger I didn’t quite understand and my mouth went dry at the power of it.