seriously thought he could ignore her for three thousand kilometres, then he truly did need those meds.
It should have been refreshing to be ignored by a man for a change. But it was strangely off-putting. Attention she could deal with. She could deflect. But inattention, lack of interest even, that wasn’t in her repertoire.
She was going to get him talking if it killed her.
She reached across and yanked on the closest ear bud. ‘How about a game, instead?’ she suggested as he fixed her with a steady glare.
Kent waited a beat of two before replying. She wanted to play games? He notched up another black mark as he held out his hand for the bud. ‘No.’
‘Come on,’ she cajoled undeterred. ‘This is supposed to be a road trip, right? You play games on road trips. It’s in all the movies.’
Kent refused to think about the kind of games he could play with Sadie Bliss. He was not going to think about strip anything. He wasn’t going there. ‘I don’t do games,’ he said bluntly as he relieved her of his ear bud.
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘What, not even I Spy?’
Kent regarded her for a moment, all perky and pushy. He needed to nip that in the bud or this trip was going to be interminable. ‘How about truth or dare?’
Sadie’s pulse spiked at the silky note in his voice and the way his gaze seemed to flick, ever so briefly, to her mouth. It was tempting but she doubted he’d go for truth. And she was damned if she was going to dare this man to do anything.
‘Maybe once we’ve got to know each other a little better?’ she retreated.
Kent pulled his gaze away from her, startled at the thought. He didn’t want to know Sadie Bliss. A sign flashed by and he grabbed a mental hold. ‘I spy with my little eye,’ he said, ‘something beginning with petrol station.’
Sadie kept her eyes firmly on the indicated services ahead. She scrunched her brow. ‘You know you’re only supposed to say the first letter, right?’
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Pull in, I’m starving. Breakfast seems a very long time ago.’
Sadie had been starving for the last three days. ‘We’ve only been in the car for three hours,’ she pointed out.
‘I need snacks,’ he said. ‘And you can use the facilities.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ Sadie said rolling her eyes as she indicated left. ‘But my days of enforced toileting ended a long, long time ago. You may have women in your life with weak bladders but, I can assure you, mine is made of cast iron.’
‘So it’s just your stomach that’s weak?’ he enquired drily.
Sadie shot him a look as she prepared to park. ‘Really? You want to annoy me now? As I’m parking your tank in this itty-bitty car space?’
Kent assessed the one remaining, very narrow car space. She made a good point. ‘Nope.’
Sadie turned back to the job at hand as she nervously pulled the car into the middle of three parking bays. The heavy steering was fine for wide open spaces but it felt as if she was trying to grapple a huge metallic beast into a matchbox as she centred the vehicle.
It was gratifying to get a grunt of respect from Kent.
He flung his door open as soon as she killed the engine. ‘You coming?’
Sadie shook her head. ‘I’m good.’
‘You want something?’
She shook it again. ‘I brought some snacks with me.’
Sadie watched him stride to the sliding doors of the service station, pleased to be released from his company for a few minutes. His jeans gently hugged his bottom and the backs of his thighs without being skin tight. His T-shirt was loose enough for the breeze to blow it against the broad contours of his back. And his limp, barely discernible, added an extra edge to his rugged appeal.
A blonde woman with a baby on her hip coming out of the sliding door as Kent went in actually stood for a moment admiring the view. She seemed perplexed for a second after the closing glass doors snatched him away. As if she couldn’t remember why she was standing in the car park gawping at a closed door.
I hear ya, honey.
He was back in a few minutes loaded down with enough carbohydrates to exceed his recommended daily intake from now until the end of his days. She felt hyperglycaemic just looking at them.
‘Here,’ he said as he passed her a packet of Twisties. ‘I got one for you, too.’
Twisties? Dear God, he was going to eat Twisties—her one weakness—right in front of her. She passed them back.
‘Thanks, I’ve got these,’ she said, waving a celery stick at him.
Kent grimaced as he opened his packet. ‘You’re going to eat celery? On a road trip.’
He had a way of emphasising celery as if it were suet or tripe. ‘It’s healthy,’ she said defensively, and was about to launch into a spiel about the amazing properties of the wonder food when the aroma of carbohydrates wafted out to greet her like an old friend and she momentarily lost her train of thought.
How could that special blend of additives and preservatives smell so damn good? Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘I think your stomach wants a say.’
Sadie stuffed the celery into her mouth and started the car to stop her from reaching over and lifting a lurid orange piece out and devouring it like the Cookie Monster. ‘It’s because I listen to my stomach too damn often that I’m as big as I am,’ she muttered testily as she reversed.
Kent eyed her critically as he buckled up, thinking she looked pretty damn good to him. He shook his head. Women in the western world amazed him. Their lives were so privileged they had nothing but trivialities to worry about. He really didn’t have the patience for it.
‘Please tell me you’re not going to eat celery for three days.’
Sadie gave him an exasperated glare. ‘What’s it matter to you?’
He bugged his eyes at her. To think less than two years ago he had been in the thick of a combat zone and now he was talking to a madwoman with a weak constitution but an apparently strong bladder about celery of all things.
‘I think it’s making you cranky.’
Sadie flicked her gaze to the road, then back at him. He had orange Twistie dust on the tips of his fingers and his lips, which just went to show perfection could be improved upon. She wondered what he’d taste like beneath the flavours of salt and cheese.
Her stomach growled again and she started to salivate.
And not for celery.
Maybe not even for Twisties.
‘No,’
