Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (3 page)

“Are you trying to make me jealous? Because it’s working!”

Aimee laughed.

“He makes a great roommate. And you’ve seen what an amazing job he did on fixing up the cabin. No one could have worked harder. The people he cares about . . .”

Her words trailed off and she took a deep breath.

“When Kes was so badly injured, Tucker said something. I couldn’t forget it, but I never really understood it either. He said, ‘It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been me’. At the time I wanted to agree with him,” and she shot me a rueful glance, “but it made me realize that he wasn’t as shallow as I’d thought.” She paused, staring unseeing into the roaring flames of the bonfire. “He’s never mean to women. He lets them know that he’s not looking for anything more than one night, or two at most. It makes me think that somewhere in his past, someone hurt him badly. Men who treat women like disposable objects are either running from something . . .”

“Or . . . ?” I prompted.

Aimee grinned. “Or he really is a douchy manwhore.” Then her smile faded. “Tucker is always laughing and joking around. I could be wrong, but I’d say the river runs deep with him. The women who get hurt are the ones who think they can change him.”

I felt her looking at me and knew she was sending a message.

“It’s hard to know him well, but he’s like all of the Daredevils in some ways: always chasing the next adrenalin rush. He seems so laidback when you meet him, but he’s got that hunger driving him . . . but like I said, he’s hard to know.”

“Kes changed for you,” I pointed out.

She nodded slowly. “But that was because he found out that I hadn’t abandoned him, that I’d been just as miserable as he was.”

“I wasn’t trying to change Tucker,” I sighed. “I just really, really wanted to get laid by someone who looked like they knew what my clit was for and where to find it.”

Aimee choked out a startled laugh.

“Oh my God! That’s so funny. I mean, it’s not but . . . my last boyfriend before Kes, he . . . well, he wasn’t very . . . dynamic.”

I nodded in sympathy.

“You mean he couldn’t have found a clit with a road map.”

Aimee laughed and shook her head while we shared an expression of commiseration.

“So why did you turn Tucker down when you had the chance?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Ugh, I’m regretting that so much. I’m just not . . . I don’t . . . I mean, I never have . . . you know? I just wanted . . . to live a little.”

Aimee smiled knowingly.

“Sorry, but I don’t think Tucker will go near you now that he knows who you are. He loves Kes like a brother.”

We stood in silence for a moment and I felt the disappointment settle inside me.

I watched Kes’s carnie family, their wildness, their willingness to accept whatever life threw at them, the tight knit community forged in the fires of society’s disapproval. An invisible line separated me from them—and it always would.

“I think I’ll get going now,” I said quietly.

Carefully, I unpeeled Bo’s tiny fingers from my shirt, trying to ignore the hurt I saw reflected in his black button eyes. He latched onto Aimee quickly, winding his paws into her dark hair.

“I’d better take him inside,” she said, nuzzling his furry head. “It’s past his bedtime.” Then she looked up. “Will we see you in the morning? We leave at five.”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, that’s a bit too early for me. But you’ll email, won’t you?”

“Of course I will! But don’t forget—you can use the cabin whenever you want. You’re family.”

Her words brought tears to my eyes.

“God, I’m going to miss you all so much.”

Aimee smiled sadly.

“We’ll miss you, too. Are you going to say goodbye to Kes?”

I shook my head. “No, I hate goodbyes.”

August: three months later . . .

Tucker

“C’mon, sweet cheeks. Don’t be like that.”

Mandy . . . or it might have been Mindy . . . pouted at me. She was trying hard to be pissed, but couldn’t quite get a hold on it.

I’d leave her smiling. I always did, because life is too short to spend your time being miserable. I wanted a woman to enjoy me as much as I enjoyed her.

“You are just the hottest lil thing I’ve ever seen. My God, woman, you have ruined me. I’m wrecked. Look at me—I’m on my knees!”

I crawled up the bed, kissing her belly and the space between the edges of her silicon valley.

“You rode me hard and put me away wet, honey. A man needs time to recover from that.”

I sighed against her neck, tickling her skin with my hair.

She giggled, which was what I’d been aiming for.

“You’re such a liar, Tucker!”

“You wound me,” I murmured into the pillow.

She giggled again and wrapped her free hand around my dick.

“
That
doesn’t feel like you need time to recover.”

I grunted in surprise because I was genuinely trying to leave. I was running late, and Kes was going to kick my ass.

Mindy . . . or Mandy . . . fluttered her eyelashes hopefully and I figured it would be just plain rude to leave without a final encore.

“Sheathe me up, sweetheart. One for the road.”

“Two,” she smirked.

“Two,” I agreed, winking at her.

A gentleman never argued with a lady.

I had to book it back to the fairground. Even at midnight, the faint breeze felt too warm against my damp t-shirt. My helmet was so hot that sweat trickled into my eyes making them sting.

I groaned when I saw the train of trucks already pulling out and moving on, kicking up clouds of dust that made me cough, my eyes watering even worse as I rode past.

The sideshows had already been stripped from the midway and the owners were on their way, traveling through the night. Takedown for the bigger rides took longer and meant hours of work under the hot spotlights, then loading into the rigs, leaving a torn patch of bare earth as the only sign that the carnival had been there.

By tomorrow morning, the early-birds would be in Minnesota: a new town, another state, and for me, a different woman. That’s just the way it was.

I winced when I saw Aimee pacing up and down in front of the small arena that held our display ramps and stunt bikes. She was pissed, and had every right to be. We should have been further on with dismantling everything by now.

She saw me and shook her head slowly, then shrugged, a gesture that clearly meant,
you’re on your own.

Kes was shirtless and bathed in sweat, scowling as I drove up.

“What the fuck, Tucker? We should be on the road in four hours! We’ve gotta make Waconia by nine!”

I swung a leg over my Duke, taking a moment to appreciate her smooth lines, white trim and red wheels. She was the only female in my life that I cared about—well, apart from Aimee, but she was like a sister to me. Mindy/Mandy wouldn’t have been happy to hear that, but it was true. A Ducati 899 Panigale was a Super Sports bike—way different from the stunt motorcycles that I rode in Hawkins’ Daredevils. She had carbon fiber covers, heel guards for the foot-pegs, an aluminum tank plug, and carbon and aluminum alloy number plate holder. It was love at first sight.

Kes looked at it longingly and I felt a pang, knowing that he couldn’t afford one for himself. When he had his accident 18 months ago, it left him and Aimee with next to nothing. I’d tried to give them some money, but I thought Kes was going to punch me in the face—and that was when he was still in a wheelchair. Then I tried to loan them some money, but Kes flat out refused. Stubborn asshole.

So the Duke was twenty-five thousand dollars of giving the finger to the past, and maybe the future too. Plus, I let Kes ride her. It was the most I’d ever spent on a bike and it left me living from pay check to pay check again for the first time in four years, but I’d done it before and I’d probably do it again. Yeah, not the smartest way to carry on, but there are no certainties in life. Don’t worry, be happy—like the guy in the song said. Dude knew a thing.

I grinned apologetically at Kes.

“Just keeping a promise to a lady.”

“Whatever, dickhead,” he replied, shaking his head, a smile sneaking through his annoyance. “Just park that piece of Italian shit and get to work.”

“Sure thing, boss!”

I saluted him and rolled the Duke up the ramp, securing her into a stall at the back of the rig so she wouldn’t get knocked around as we drove.

I didn’t hear Zef come in behind me, but I damn sure felt the kidney punch that he landed on me. None too light, either.

“Fucker,” I muttered under my breath as I rubbed the sore spot, knowing I deserved worse for holding everyone up.

“You should try thinking with your big head instead of your little one,” he snorted, flicking me on the ear.

“Nothing little about either of my heads, bro,” I grinned at him.

“Dream on,” he laughed loudly, heading back, a large monkey-wrench in his hand.

I followed him out and joined the two other roustabouts who were helping to take down the jump-ramps. They worked for all of the shows, lending a hand wherever was needed. It had been the first job I’d had when I left home at 17. It was a hard life, but I wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

“Sorry, guys!” I called out, grinning at the amused faces. “Lost track of time.”

“Lost track of your dick, more like,” snorted Carl, and I heard Buddy laughing his ass off.

“Nope, still attached,” I shouted back, climbing to the highest part of the ramp and started loosening the bolts that held it in place.

There were upward of 100 pieces of metal and wood that held the ramps together. Some of the sections weighed nearly 300 pounds, and everything was moved by hand. The five of us could do takedown in less than six hours, but I’d held everyone up. Yeah well, it was hard to regret the satisfied look on Mindy/Mandy’s face when I’d let myself out of her place.

We worked through the night, and the last things to dismantle were the huge spotlights that we used for the show and to see what we were doing during takedown.

I pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves, careful not to let the hot metal touch any part of me as they were stored away.

Aimee joined us bleary-eyed an hour before dawn with coffee and snacks. We were all tired and dirty, but there was no time to wash up.

“I’ll take first shift at the wheel,” Zef said, drinking his coffee standing up. “Something tells me you didn’t get much rest last night
before
we started takedown.”

“I’ll get all the sleep I need when I’m dead,” I said solemnly, dodging his next punch.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll wake you up when we hit Fargo.”

I really needed to shower and wash off the scent of Mandy/Mindy. But I’d missed my window. I jumped into the cab of the rig, folded my leather jacket into a pillow and got comfortable.

“Man, you stink of cheap perfume,” said Zef.

“Nothin’ cheap about Mindy,” I lied.

Zef laughed again. “Her name was Linda, you douche!”

I cracked an eye. “Serious? How come you know that?”

“Because her friend Melissa told me.”

“Bummer,” I yawned, closing my eyes again and fell asleep.

Too soon, Zef was shaking me awake.

“’Sup?” I asked, rubbing a knuckle into my eyes.

“Man, your cell has just about been ringing nonstop. Someone really wants to get ahold of you. Don’t tell me you slipped up and gave your number to Linda?”

I had to smile at that. “No way. I gave her yours. Thank me later.”

He muttered something I didn’t need to hear. Zef knew my rules as well as I did. Hell, he used to joke that I should get them tattooed on my junk to save repeating myself.

The rules were simple, and they kept me sane.

1. Never give a woman my number.
   That’s smart.
   
2. Never sleep with them more than once.
   Why only eat the red M&Ms when you could have all the other colors too?
   
3. Always leave her satisfied.
   That’s just polite.
   
4. Never look back.
    
   

If you keep moving, you can’t get caught. Right?

Still grinning, I pulled my cell out of my pants pocket.

My mind went blank when I saw the 423 area code: four missed calls, one voicemail and three texts—all from the same number. I had a strong suspicion that whoever was trying to reach me wouldn’t say anything I wanted to hear. I deleted the voicemail without listening to it, then casually deleted the texts.