A Dash of Desire (Spiced Life #2)
Read A Dash of Desire (Spiced Life #2) Online
Authors: Charity Parkerson
A Dash of Desire
Book 2: “Spiced Life”
Charity Parkerson
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--Warning: This book is intended for readers over the age of 18.
Copyright © 2014 Charity Parkerson
Editor: Victoria Reese
Photographer: Chaoss
All rights reserved.
Acknowledgments
Sometimes, all it takes is a single conversation with a friend to spark the imagination. Thank you, Ben Ditmars and Tracy James Jones, for being my friends.
“
And on that eighth impossible day
God created words and altered
Every plant and creature he had made.”
—Ben Ditmars
He wants to tame her…
After losing his wife to her wild ways at a young age, Tristan moved on to follow a higher calling. He finds comfort in helping others and has no intention of inviting drama back into his life. That is, until temptation blows into town.
She wants to corrupt him…
Riley is a foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, and bitter soul. Down on her luck and on the run from another terrible decision, the last thing she needs is a soul-saving hottie pushing his way into her life.
But will they end up destroying each other?
Taming Riley becomes an obsession for Tristan. With his reputation on the line and Riley’s heart on the table, can Tristan find a way to keep both? It only takes a dash of desire to ignite a flame when this savior and sinner collide. But this is one inferno that could end up destroying them both.
Chapter 1
May 12th
Sometimes life sucks. Other times, it blows. For Riley, life had been sucking and blowing for so long now she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Of course, it was equally possible her inability to breathe had something to do with the forty-five minutes she’d spent attempting to loosen the lug nuts currently preventing her from changing her flat tire. Oh, it was also midnight and raining. Plus, she was stranded in the middle of nowhere-ville and her cell phone had lost service thirty minutes before the distinct thumping had begun. Yep. Had she mentioned how jacked up her life was at the moment? Well…really, if she was being honest with herself, it was a fucked up mess every day, but tonight seemed unnaturally unfair.
After all, it wasn’t every day a girl left the man she’d been living with for two years. It had been
that
sort of day.
Even though Riley couldn’t deny that most of her current problems were of her own making, it didn’t change her bitterness level one iota. She currently held the market on that particular emotion. Using her anger against the stubborn lug nuts, Riley clenched her teeth, braced her feet apart, and put every ounce of her strength behind pulling on the tire iron. It gained her nothing except a sharp pain in her jaw and the flash of lights behind her closed eyes.
Blinking, Riley realized the light blinding her was actually the shining of headlights. An older model Dodge Ram pulled in behind her car. Every horror story her momma had told her about strangers and winding up dead in a ditch ran through her mind as a dark figure spilled out. An umbrella unfurled. Riley’s thoughts scattered as she tried to decide what to do. In the end, she did nothing.
His cologne hit her first. Heaven and chocolate.
“Could you use a hand?”
The voice…southern whiskey. Hers refused to work as the full impact of him came into view. Soft blond hair and light blue eyes gave the impression of an angel. Seriously. Riley was certain they sang. On the other hand, the devil chuckled, because the man’s body was made for sin. Six feet of sinewy muscle, reminding her of a runner. Wide shoulders unafraid of hard labor. God. Damn. Obviously mistaking her silence for fear, he stopped a few feet short of her and held the umbrella out for her to take. At this point, it was useless, but Riley still accepted.
“I’m Tristan.” Oh, it so wasn’t right that his name was freaking sexy too, and she looked like a drowned rat at the moment.
She held her hand out. “Riley Henderson,” she said, finally managing to find her voice. Dropping his gaze, Tristan didn’t accept. His eyes darted away. Taking note of the black gunk covering her palm, Riley swiped it down the front of her shirt almost groaning aloud when a black streak appeared in its wake. The dumbass move reminded her of an important fact. Her shirt was white. It was soaked. The headlights on his truck weren’t the only things shining. For a second, horror attempted to crawl up her neck before some strange form of “fuck it” set in. He was pointedly not looking. Plus, she was too tired to care any longer. Shrugging out of his jacket, Tristan held her stare. Even as he attempted to pass it over, he didn’t once drop his gaze. Damn. A gentleman.
“My hands are dirty,” she argued, refusing to take it.
A luminous smile stretched his lips, changing his entire face and taking at least five years away from Riley’s life. The loss of so many heartbeats couldn’t possibly be good for her health.
“It’s replaceable. Your life isn’t. Please take it before you catch your death out here.”
With a nod, they swapped. Tristan held the umbrella as she slipped her arms inside the jacket. The warmth of his skin lingered inside the material. His scent surrounded her. Riley barely suppressed the urge to bury her nose inside and suck the smell into her lungs.
“I’ll take care of this,” Tristan said nodding toward the tire. “If you’ll hold this.” He handed the umbrella over before dropping down to his haunches and inspecting the damage. Riley did her best to hold it over both their heads. His dark shirt clung to his skin, shaping his every line and revealing deeply ridged muscles. With a flick of his wrist, the first lug nut easily gave way. Riley stamped her feet, doing a temper tantrum dance. In her outrage, she was completely incapable of stopping it from happening.
“You must be fucking joking. I’ve been out here fighting this stupid motherfucking thing for almost an hour and you just…” She made a flicking motion, deteriorating into speechless mimicking in her frustration. A low rumble of laughter left his throat, punching Riley in hers. Her anger melted away at the sound. She felt it happen. A tingle began at the top of her head and slipped down her body before curling her toes. Holy shit buckets. He was the body whisperer.
At her continued silence, Tristan glanced over his shoulder. Just as it had the first time she’d seen him, the sight of his unnaturally light eyes ensnared her, making Riley want. Wanting things was how she’d ended up here in the first place. It was best that she remembered that.
She gestured toward the tire. “As you were.” Gah! She sounded like a spoiled princess. “My fit is over,” she added, attempting to tone it down. The laughter in his eyes remained, but he dutifully did as told.
After a moment of working in silence, he finally spoke. “It’s okay to have a meltdown every now and again.” In the face of his calm acceptance, Riley was incapable of stopping the confession from rising to her lips.
“I was being childish.”
“You’re entitled at this point, I should think. Plus, life gets the best of everyone occasionally.”
He was just so damn calm. It was a healing balm on a spot in her heart rubbed raw for too long. For the first time in ages, Riley could breathe. She hadn’t noticed the lack of oxygen until she drew her first real lungful. Her shoulders relaxed.
“Having a bad night is no excuse,” she admitted, having a hard time letting it go. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m not grateful for your help.”
Coming to his feet, Tristan said something under his breath. Riley missed it in her attempt to move out of his way before she took his eye out with the umbrella. It sounded a bit like he said, “It’s my Christian duty.” For some reason, she didn’t think so. He didn’t seem the type.
“Do you mind popping the trunk so I can grab the spare?”
“Of course not.” Digging the keys from her pocket, Riley moved to do as he bade. When she pulled the lid open, Riley stood blinking down at the mess. Fuck. She’d forgotten that her whole damn life was inside her car. “Um, well. Damn.” With a flick, she closed the umbrella and set it at her feet. She was going to need both hands for this. When she pulled the first laundry basket out, Tristan stepped in, setting his hand on her arm and bringing her motions to an end.
“All your things are going to get wet. We could stack them in my truck or your back seat until I’m done.”
Riley shrugged and set the basket on the ground. “I’m not worried over it. It’s just stuff.” Truthfully, she didn’t want to have wash everything later because it was soaked. Not to mention, she was going to end up with mud in her trunk, but she’d realized something the second Tristan’s fingers came in contact with her body. She had to get out of his company. Not only was he sexy, Tristan was nice. He was so fucking kind, and she didn’t deserve it. Maybe life was kicking her ass, but she’d earned every ounce of bad karma. This man, he needed to move along and leave her to the bullshit. Riley destroyed good people like a sinkhole swallowed houses.
Obviously realizing she was serious, Tristan pitched in to help. In a matter of minutes, all of Riley’s worldly possessions were stacked on the shoulder of Old Salem highway. With one chore out of the way, Riley and Tristan stood side by side, blinking into the empty hole where her spare should be. Riley tilted her chin up and blinked at the rain hitting her eyes before rolling down her cheeks. At least, that was lie she was telling herself. No way in hell was she crying. She paced away for a second. Before even she knew it was going to happen, Riley snapped. Throwing her arms wide, she growled. The sound ripped from her throat in her fury.
“Are you fucking kidding me? No. No. Really? Are you fucking kidding me? I just…I can’t even…fuck!”
Tristan relaxed against her car, sitting on the edge of her opened trunk and crossing his feet at the ankles. He braced his hands next to his hips, seeming completely content to wait in the rain while she finished her fit. Luckily, it wasn’t pouring any longer. It was more of a drizzle, but Tristan’s hair was still wet enough that he’d slicked it back away from his face. Silence filled the space between them as she stared him down, doing her best to call her temper under control. His rugged jeans molded to his skin. If he was least bit cold, he didn’t show it. Even a spring rain chilled the skin after a while. She was doing her best to think of anything other than life. Tristan’s body was giving her a lot to work with.
