Whiskey's Second Chance

15: Adventures

Kayla POV

How the fuck do I answer that question. No one knows who I am or where I come from, and telling him now is not a smart choice.

"I grew up around guns," I stated.

True...enough.

"I know how they function, which means I may have looked down one at one point or someone around me wasn't exactly as careful either," I confessed, knowing full well it was true. Just not the full story. His brown eyes bore into me with questions, but refrained from asking.

Looking back through his scope, he commented, "So, you're a badass."

"That's one way to look at it, I guess," I laughed.

We sat in silence until the sun came up. The silence was comfortable. Whiskey was easy to be around without feeling like he wanted anything from me other than to get to know me. Whiskey started breaking down his rifle and helped me up and went inside.

Inside, Gears was asleep on the couch as Tiny stood by the front door half asleep himself. My instincts kicked, searching through the cupboards as I looked for the coffee. As I reached the next cupboard, hands brushed against mine and I pulled away. Whiskey smiled, pulling out everything I needed, winked, and walked away.

Those arm muscles...the damage they could do to me. I wanted to be wrapped up in his arms and never look back. To know what it's like to feel safe, loved, and protected again. His muscles, dirty blonde hair, and sexual innuendos had my mind wandering down a very dirty path.

Ten minutes later, I handed Tiny a cup of coffee. He thanked me, and I headed inside. Standing in the kitchen was a freshly showered, half naked Whiskey pouring himself a cup. Amongst the muscles, a tattoo engulfed his back. An intricate phoenix balanced light and dark, as if there was a war going on between whom it should be and who it was. Its wings spanned over Whiskey's shoulders, making it come to life with every movement he made.

Whiskey turned around, catching me gawking at him, and my face reddened. My face reddened instantly as I moved around him to reach the coffeepot, but Whiskey handed me his. Was I looking at his tattoos, yes. But that didn't mean I didn't notice the muscles that were under those magnificent tattoos either.

The way he looks at me is the way I have always wanted to be looked at by a man. Respected, seen as an equal and independent, and listened to what I had to say, wanting to understand me, not just hear me. So why don't I completely trust him? He hasn't proven that I can't; yet.

*****

By the end of day two, everyone was ready for this "adventure" to be over. We spent the entire day indoors, and there was no news about going back. Missing one shift at the diner is one thing, but a few days...I can't afford to lose my job. The other old ladies may be used to living like this, but I'm not and I can't sit around for forever.

"Alright boys, this mama wants to go home, so unless you're going to physically stop me, then hand over the goddamn car keys," Ginger demanded. Both Tiny and Gears faces' flushed, as the woman meant business.

The others talked all at once, demanding to go home and complaining about nothing to do. They also demanded answers about what was happening back home. Ginger wasn't trying to ruffle feathers, but if the guys keep us here much longer, we're going to lose our shit.

Before a pregnant Ginger put two men on their asses, I stepped in. "I think what everyone is trying to say is you have cooped us up inside all day, were tired, and we all have things or people to get back to. Do you know how long we have to stay here?" I calmly asked.