00: SOUTHERN TILT (Isolated Together, Rated R)

A cowboy came to see me. He pulled into the rocky clearing bordering my quiet property in the mountains of Kingman, Arizona and parked his car next to mine. The blood-red of his convertible shone like a stain alongside my pitch-black Shelby. I snorted as I watched his dramatic entry with engine thundering. I hugged the box in my arms close to my chest as he hopped out of the driver’s side without opening the door. I scanned the body of his vehicle as he settled, recognizing the car’s lines and details. I checked out the cowboy as well as he pulled out an acoustic guitar from the backseat. There was a pause as he strummed and twanged out a country tune, waiting for me to approve or disapprove.

I broke my attention on him to glance at my quaint and sensible single-story ranch-style home behind me, skimming my gaze over its neat little gardens. My lids narrowed when I looked back at him. We surveyed each other from a distance.

“So?” His call echoed across the rocky expanse. The brilliant gold-red of the desert’s setting sun washed over us, glinting off the trim of our vehicles. A slight southern drawl, Louisiana-style, tilted his words. “See my car, little lady? Catch these flashy colors and my guitar. Brought my best mating jig. Can I approach?”

I looked over his vehicle another time — ’64 Buick Wildcat in Claret Mist — while I thought it over. I nodded after a short wait.

“All right,” I said. “Approach.”

He shut off his engine and rested the guitar back inside, placing his hands on his hips to roll out a few awkward dance maneuvers and peck the air like a bird, flapping his elbows for extra effect. I waited until he reached me before I turned away and resumed my walk to my front door.

“Real nice, D.” I mimicked his steps with the box balanced in my grip, flapping my own elbows and pecking my nose. “Sexy.”

“That strut drives the chickens wild. You should see how they roost after my step.’”

“I bet. It’s working on me.”

“According to plan.”

I advanced a few more paces before the cowboy swooped in front of me, beckoning for the box with a straw clenched between his teeth.

“Give me that, darlin’.”

“Oh. Sugar.” I stretched my speech to match his accent. “Is my steely-nerved fella’ gonna carry this big ol’ box?”

“You got it.” He pulled the box into his grip as I loosened my hold. “The toughest, the meanest, all here for you.”

“Shucks.”

His head lowered as he peered inside the box, and shadows fell over his face from the curved brim cowboy hat perched on his golden-brown curls. The genteel smile soured when he peered at what was inside.

“More of these damn things. How many do ya need?”

I folded my arms. “Does it matter?”

“Don’t ya think you’re obsessed at this point?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever. Can’t argue that logic.”

“Hm.”

I resumed my walk and he powered ahead of me with long strides, reaching the small set of wooden steps that led to my front porch. He set the box on the ground and moved past the swing seat installed on my porch, giving it a light push before reaching into the pocket of his jeans. I smiled as he pulled out an item between his fingers and tried the key in the lock. His cowboy hat bobbed in satisfaction when he found his access still granted. He turned back to me and with the same speed returned, grinning as he scooped me off the ground. His voice was low as his face neared mine.

“What’s up, L?” 

“You, maybe.”

I chuckled as I nicked the straw from his teeth and brought his mouth to mine. His lips parted, and I tasted him with a quick pass of my tongue over his. I heard his low growl as we separated.

“Mm.” He dotted his lips to mine again. “Good call.”

He walked toward the house, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, continuing our slow contact as he passed by the box he’d rested on the ground. Instead of entering through the open door, he moved over to the swing and rested me on the cushions, slipping down beside me. I raised myself up on my elbows as he leaned over me, and his hands rested on my hips as his mouth trailed along my throat.

“So.” I met his bright gaze when he looked up at me. “You waited for me to come back and stalked me in the valleys. Hid out there for too fucking long.”

“Told ya.” Humor curled wide on his sun-tanned face. “Don’t take shortcuts. Ever. Don’t care how comfortable it feels out here in the middle of nowhere — or that I’m the only incident you’re encounterin’. If I can get at ya — “

I cut him off.

“How long did you wait, exactly?”

He shrugged. “Couple hours.”

“No.” I wagged a finger. “You marked the trail yesterday at oh-three thirty-eight. Once your surveillance bug alerted you that I’d left my coordinate at seventeen-seventeen, you sped over to verify I didn’t double-cross your mark. You sat in your cover spot at seventeen-forty-seven. It’s now— “ I checked the hour on the COM band on my wrist. “Nineteen-twelve. That’s less than a couple hours. Don’t give yourself extra credit, tiger, though I appreciate the serial killer attention.”

He laced his fingers through the loops of my jeans.“Did that turn ya on?”

“I’m fucking wet.”

“Ha. Well. I’m seein’ something I’d like to murder.”

I tugged at the silver buttons of his shirt. “Great. Show me, cowboy.”

“Mhm.”

He examined the dainty gold chain around my throat as I pushed his first button loose.

“By the way, hide your steps better next time,” I chided. “You stayed at Cactus Side Inn before coming here, that shitty little short-stay we’ve personally fucked around in. Don’t know why you thought old Rosie the Relapser wouldn’t remember a strapping young lad like yourself. Not many of your caliber speeding around Kingman.”

His gaze moved aside as he thought to himself.

“Thought I saw a shadow in the valley tailin’ me right back.”

“You saw Shelby,” I said.

“Shelby. Shelby.” His scent, a husky cologne, enveloped me as his body moved over mine, the heel of his boot on the porch steadying the rocking swing. “The shadow was Shelby. The shadow was you. What a gal.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” I paused our fumbling to stroke his cheek. “It’s been a while, lover. Nice car. Great pick. You must be doing well if you’re collecting again.”

“Ah, I pick up something here and there. Liked the look of that one. The sound of it, too — that V8 ticker. Don’t like bein’ angry at ya, lover.”

“Here’s what we’ll do — next time you piss me off, you get a freebie, the best hate-fuck of your life where you’re begging that you’ve had enough — but I’m not finished yet. That make us square?”

“Deal. We can start that payback any time. But, I’ll say — ” His demeanor turned serious, but gentle. “Don’t take shortcuts. Watch yourself alone out here. We’re the best of the best but there’s always somethin’ waiting to catch us off the clock.”

“Duncan.” I remained firm. “I know that. We’re always in danger, and I’m always watching.”

He tapped on the chain. “Someone give this to you?”

“Yeah.” I glanced down at the delicate rope. “Me to myself.”

“Not tryin’ to lay heartache on ya.” He grunted. “Just want to know.“

“D. I’m not fucking anyone new. I’m only fucking you, and not even often anymore. Yeah, that’s a complaint. It’s ridiculous, these crazy parameters we keep setting and then not setting, where we’re not dating but never really date anyone else. Sort of. Want me to beg for it — beg for you? I’ve done that for you before, stud. You never complained.”

“Hm. Not new. Think I’d care less if it was someone new. Then it wouldn’t be so fucking personal, and I wouldn’t still be this angry.”

“I keep to myself, like always. Don’t need the aggravation. Relations bring way more trouble than I’m interested in, and you’re bad enough for me as it is. Also, if you’re aiming at someone specific, I haven’t spoken to him — “

Duncan, the cowboy, kissed me fast and hard before he had to hear any more of my answer. I relaxed right away, since I preferred disagreements to be settled in a physical way, either with violence or a different passion. Anything except explaining and explaining, rehashing, arguing without sense or end — 

His mouth moved down my throat to my chest. I sighed at his touch, feeling his fingers loosen my top. My own hands worked to unfasten the rest of his clothes.

“You didn’t park in the garage.” The warm air of the darkening Arizona night struck my flesh as he pulled my blouse over my head, leaving me bare-chested. “Left Shelby out here like you’re heading out again. Got plans?”

“Well,” I glanced down as he kissed my breasts. My lids closed lightly as I felt his tongue slide over my skin, his fingers cupping their shape. I arched my back as I felt a thrill. “After this little surprise detour, I planned to patrol.”

“Patrol?” Duncan raised his head, hat askew. I pulled it off and tossed it aside, revealing his mussed hair. “It’s quiet out here this quarter. Didn’t catch your tag logged for recon either.”

“A little freestyle maneuver. Prime time for bloodsuckers.” I ran my fingers through his curls and hummed with satisfaction when he tore his shirt off to bare his muscled torso. I grazed my touch over his lines, feeling the smooth and taut movement of his strong chest and arms. “I’ll only get a mini rate for heading out off-season, and I’ll probably pull no heads. That’s fine. I prefer staying active.”

A grunt escaped him as I shoved him back so I could climb over him myself. I tossed my hair as his hands trailed up my stomach, finding my breasts again, and he caught the ground with his dangled heel again to steady the swing. He unbuttoned and pulled down the waistband of my jeans, his fingers hooking onto my panties, a thin chain of near-nothing meant for the moment — and meant for him. Yes, I’d been waiting for him since he had the nerve to mark the road leading to my property.

“I’ll go with ya.” His eyes scanned me as my face lowered to his. “Independent support — that’s what you can code me as. Don’t have to pay me a thing either. Any vamps I catch’ll be credited to you.”

“You want to work for me?” I chuckled as warm air now struck my bare hips. “For free? Sweet, but no thanks. Don’t want you inflating my kill counts with asterisks. My record’s phenomenal without your charity.”

“Maybe I just want to observe your sexy ass in action and bait the fuckers to bring ya excitement. I won’t lift a finger if ya get outnumbered. Clean house yourself, hunter.”

“I’ll do fine.”

“I know, sugar. I like to watch.”

I tasted him again, drawing his mouth to mine. Though he succeeded in removing my jeans on the shaking swing, he gave up on steadying the seat with his heel and lifted both himself and me up in a quick sweep of motion. Our clothes remained in a pile as we stayed engaged while he approached the front door to my house another time, the door still ajar. With a swift kick, he burst the door open and walked through the dark interior with the expert ease of a hunter who’d been there many times.