Riding The Line Part 8

Dakota held up his mug. 'Sure, thanks.' He waited until the waitress retreated before focusing back on Robyn who was eating her omelet as if her life depended on it. For someone so tough, she sure had a sensitive side. He couldn't resist needling her. 'Why are you so edgy this morning anyway?'

'As I said yesterday, Dakota. This is just how I am. Get used to it.'

'And who are you, exactly?' She glared at him but didn't answer. 'I don't even know your real surname.'

'Maybe I don't have one.'

He chuckled. 'Yeah, like Sting or Madonna. Somehow I don't buy that.'

She avoided his gaze, stabbing her fork into the crust of her toast as if it was her enemy.

'You crept out of that motel room this morning like you expected to be surrounded by the police. Did you rob a bank or something? Are we going to turn up on America's Most Wanted in one of those car chases?'

'I am not wanted by the police, OK?'

'So what are you running from?'

'You if you don't shut up.'

'h.e.l.l, no. I'm saving you, right? I'm your ride out of town.'

Robyn set her jaw. 'I am not running away from anything. I'm trying to get back to LA.'

He watched her face, leant across to stroke her luscious lower lip. 'Tell me what's going on, honey. I promise I won't be shocked whatever it is.'

'There you go again. Trying to save me.' She got to her feet. 'I just need a ride in your truck, not a white knight on his horse.'

Dakota kept his seat and stared up at her. 'Good thing I don't have Tommy with me then. Crazy horse has always wanted to be in a fairy tale.'

Robyn raised her gaze skyward as if seeking divine help. 'I'm going back to the motel.'

'Fine, I'm going to check in at the garage and see if they can fix my truck. I'll meet you back at the room.'

She slipped past the waitress and went out the door leaving Dakota to his coffee and his thoughts.

He'd tried to keep his tone light, unwilling to have yet another fight before he'd even digested his breakfast. Something was going on with her and he was determined to find out what it was. She was running all right. Part of him wished she had the courage to share her troubles with him.

Through the window, he watched her pick her way across the dusty sun-streaked street, sungla.s.ses on the end of her upturned nose, braid over one shoulder. Despite her surroundings she looked as if she walked off a fas.h.i.+on runway or a red carpet. Dakota frowned. Where had he seen her before? And how was he supposed to help her if she refused to let him? Did he really want to open that particular can of worms?

They were only road-trip buddies, after all. He sensed she was just having fun with him and that was what he wanted, right? He had way too much on his plate to contemplate any kind of serious relations.h.i.+p. But he wanted her with an intensity that shook him to his boots.

He drained his coffee and looked around for the waitress. Next week he had the Prairie Dawg Boots TV ad to shoot, and then he had to go check on his horses for the upcoming rodeo season. And yeah, he was supposed to be writing his thesis proposal for his master's degree in rangeland ecology.

He sighed deeply, paid the bill and headed out the door. His rodeo friends thought he was nuts going back to college when he could earn a good living as a cowboy. But Dakota had no intention of ending up injured and out of the sport like his brother Jay had, needing to find another career fast. He was going to be an overeducated employed cowboy if it killed him.

To his relief, the doors to the garage were open and the sound of country music echoed through the old timber-framed building. Dakota made his way across the oil-stained floor to an elderly guy dressed in grubby overalls bent over an engine.

'Good morning, are you Mr Ford?'

'I'm Elias Ford, yeah.' The man straightened and pushed his gla.s.ses higher up his nose. 'Are you the guy with the big 450?'

Dakota held out his hand. 'I am. Can you take a look for me?'

Elias wiped his fingers on a rag and nodded. 'Sure can. Any idea what you think it might be?'

Dakota pushed his Stetson back on his head. From the look of the place, he doubted Elias had access to the latest in computer diagnostic systems.

'I reckon it's something to do with the trailer brake controller. As I was coming down the long hill, north of the town, I kind of felt the trailer crowding in on me and that's not good.'

'Were the warning lights working on the controller?'

'Yeah, it was constantly flicking between red and green. After I pulled over, I checked the tires and the axle to make sure they were OK and then the connections to the trailer, but I couldn't see anything too obvious.'

Elias grunted and hiked up the straps of his overalls. 'Sounds like the trailer brake controller all right. It happens a lot on these roads. Let's go and check it out.'

Robyn finished her packing and started gathering up Dakota's stuffas well. It was the least she could do when he was paying for everything. She folded another T-s.h.i.+rt and haphazardly stuffed it into his bag. It was a shame the motel didn't have a laundry service. Dakota seemed to be running out of clean clothes. How did people wash their clothes in a place like this? She'd have to ask Dakota how he managed.

She glanced at her watch. Where was he? Surely he'd finished with the truck by now? She chewed her fingernails and contemplated the door. He was definitely getting suspicious about her. Was it time to tell him who she really was? Perhaps revealing her D-list celebrity status would turn out OK. Either he'd feel sorry for her or he'd laugh himself sick. She'd dealt with both reactions before.

'Dammit, Dakota. I can't sit here all day!'

She grabbed her purse and sungla.s.ses and flung open the door. Sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding her.

'Hey, Robyn!'

She shaded her eyes and saw Dakota coming down the path. He was smiling which had to mean good news, didn't it? She waited until he walked up to her and then moved back into the welcome shade of the room.

'Can they fix it?'

He grinned down at her. 'Yeah, it will be ready to go in a couple of hours. It was the trailer brake controller. The guy even had one in stock, so it's only going to cost me two hundred bucks, plus labor, of course.'

Robyn nodded wisely as if she knew what the h.e.l.l he was talking about. Luckily he was too pleased to notice.

He glanced around the motel room. 'Did you pack my stufftoo?'

She shrugged. 'Some of it. I wasn't sure whether we would be staying another night or not.'

'We shouldn't have to now, although I'll have to take it easy on the road today.' He moved around the room picking up odd garments Robyn had missed. 'We've got time to go to the laundromat before the truck will be ready, so grab your stuff.'

'The laundromat?'

He slung his bag over his shoulder. 'Yeah. Now don't tell me. You've never been to one of those either. Where were you raised, the moon?'

She looked him right in the eye. 'Actually I have been to a laundromat before, who hasn't?' She picked up her small bag of clothes, sailed out of the door and hoped her lie was convincing. Dakota locked the door and moved past her, whistling some corny country song that reminded her of her last boyfriend, Damien, a dime-store cowboy if ever she'd seen one. A man who would never get his pointy cowboy boots dirty, unlike the real thing who strode beside her now.

'Where's the laundromat then?'

'It's just behind the motel, facing the street.'

Robyn hoisted her bag higher and tried to keep up. Why did he have to make everything look so effortless? He stopped and held open a door for her.

'Ma'am.'

Robyn stepped into the steamy warm fabric-scented air of the laundromat. One wall consisted of washers, the other of driers, in between sat a row of chairs laid out for a game of musical chairs and a large folding table. The sound of tumbling washers and driers provided a constant background hum. Despite all the noise, there didn't seem to be anyone about. Robyn noticed a door ajar at the rear of the shop with a crooked notice taped on to it reading MANAGER. She edged closer and heard the sound of snoring echo off the perspiring walls.

She dropped her bag on the floor and looked round expectantly. Where the h.e.l.l was the person who was going to wash their clothes? Her gaze fell on Dakota who was watching her. His expression was taunting.

'You have no idea what you're doing, do you?'

'I'm waiting for a.s.sistance. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?'

He pointed at a big red sign on the wall. 'Can't you read? It says "self service". Do you even understand what that means?' He opened the lids of two of the big washers and knelt on the floor to sort out his stack of clothes. 'Let's do one cold wash and one warm.'

Robyn edged closer to see exactly what he was doing. He seemed to be separating his clothes into different piles. h.e.l.l, she could do that. It wasn't exactly rocket science, was it? She opened her bag and threw a garment out at random on the first pile.

'Robyn, is that warm or cold wash?'

'How am I supposed to know?'

He sighed. 'Check the label.'

'OK, Martha, oops I mean, Dakota.'

'Wow, you're so funny.'

'I thought so.' She squinted at the first label. It was one of the garments she'd escaped LA in. Did cashmere wash well? She tossed the black cardigan on to the warm-wash pile.

'Why don't you go get the laundry detergent?'

Robyn looked around again. 'From where?'

'From the dispenser on the wall.' He sighed. 'You're such a liar; you've never done this before, have you?'

Robyn ignored him and sauntered across to the row of boxes attached to the wall. They held fabric softener, drier sheets and laundry detergent. She jiggled the first tray but nothing happened. Did she need coins? With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Dakota was occupied, she grabbed the tray and tried to force it open.

'Honey . . .'

'Don't call me that.' Robyn gritted her teeth and pulled harder.

'OK, "baby cakes", you need quarters.'

She stomped back toward him. '"Baby cakes" isn't happy. Why didn't you tell me that before I broke my nail?'

'Because you never listen anyway. Look in my pocket, there's change in there.'

She knelt down beside him and slid her hand into his jeans pocket. His c.o.c.k stirred against her seeking fingers.

'That's nice, honey, do it again.'

'You are such a perv.'

She folded her fingers around some change and slowly withdrew her hand, trying to avoid the stark evidence of his arousal as it brushed the back of her hand. He caught her fingers and held them steady against his hardening flesh until she could feel the throb of his pulse.

His mouth feathered over her ear and she was suddenly aroused, her s.e.x heating and softening with antic.i.p.ation.

'I thought we were doing laundry.'

'We are.' He bit down on her ear lobe and she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. 'Go get the detergent.'

This time she managed to operate the dispenser and bring the lavender-smelling goop back to Dakota. He'd stuffed both piles of clothes in the machines and was waiting for her.

'Thanks, baby cakes.'

'Don't call me that.'

He slammed down the lids, added more coins, fiddled with the dials and both machines started working. Robyn lifted the corner of one lid and stared at the revolving clothes. So much easier than hand was.h.i.+ng stuffand hanging it over the shower rail to dry. When she got back, she'd have to find out if there was a laundromat near her tiny apartment. It had to be cheaper than sending stuffout.

Not that she had an apartment anymore if Damien was still there. Her hand crept to her throat. The bruises had long gone but she still felt the shame at having allowed a man to treat her like that. She wasn't going anywhere near her stuffif he still hovered over it like a spider with its egg sac. She couldn't allow him to hurt her again, emotionally or physically.

'Robyn?'

She looked up to find Dakota in front of her, the teasing expression absent from his face. His hands came to rest on her shoulders.

'Are you OK?'

'Yeah, I was just thinking about some unfinished business.'

'Anything I can help you with?'

'Not really.'

On impulse, and to drive the image of Damien's sneering face from her mind, she kissed Dakota's chin. He immediately bent his head and captured her mouth, holding her trapped against the working machine. Warmth seeped into her from both the metal and the man. She put her arms around his neck, loving the strength of him as he thoroughly explored her mouth.

'That's nice, Robyn.'

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her up until she perched on the front of the machine and fitted himself between her open thighs. Heat pooled in her s.e.x as he angled his hips against hers and rubbed the thick column of his shaft against the inner seam of her jeans. For such a relaxed guy, his intensity about s.e.x always surprised her.

'I want to be inside you, real bad, honey.'

She stared into his l.u.s.t-filled eyes. 'And you have really lousy timing.'

He slipped his hand between them and cupped her s.e.x. 'Yeah, anyone could walk in on us.' He held her gaze. 'And you know what? That just makes me want it more.'

Beneath her the machine churned and trembled, sending erotic vibrations up and down her legs. He unzipped her jeans and slid two fingers under her panties.

'You're soaking.'

Robyn fought the temptation to close her eyes. She was the one who faced the street, legs wide open, a man between them. She had to keep an eye on the door even if Dakota didn't. He started to move his fingers in and out of her, a slow glide coupled with the rub of his thumb over her c.l.i.t.