He popped into the tiny motel office and emerged with a fistful of gleaming metal keys. Walking to two other trucks that served as a part of our traveling caravan, he distributed them to his men, and they grabbed duffels out of the back before disappearing into several rooms.
I had a grip on the door handle, ready to hop out and get settled for the night, when Tripp held up a hand to halt me. I cocked my head in question but remained seated as he jogged around the hood and climbed behind the wheel.
“We’re down at the end,” he explained as he reversed out of our current parking spot and drove to the far side of the lot.
Extending my feet as far as they would go, I wiggled my toes. “Wouldn’t kill me to walk after spending hours driving. I’m all kinds of stiff.” Twisting my neck, I let it crack loudly for emphasis.
Tripp’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Don’t say stiff.”
With a wicked grin curving on my lips, I leaned my torso over the center console, practically purring, “I need to be stretched out in the worst way, baby.”
A low noise sounded at the back of his throat as we rolled to a stop. Training his darkened blue eyes on me, he gritted out, “Stay here.”
Bringing my flattened hand to my temple, I gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
The grumbling under his breath as he swung open his door had me smiling. He’d kill me if I said it out loud, but just then, he totally reminded me of his father.
Jett Sullivan was stoic, gruff, and no-nonsense, though I had witnessed rare moments of softness, usually directed toward his wife and daughter.
Tripp respected his dad, but a lifetime spent as his sounding board meant I knew they butted heads often. Jett was tough as nails and expected his son to be the same. But Tripp just wasn’t. He was openly expressive and playful and would much rather follow orders than lead. I could only imagine what Jett would think about how I dominated him in the bedroom, a place where society dictated that men should be in charge.
Being on the road, we’d been able to close ourselves off from whatever drama was left behind at home after the whole crashed wedding/runaway bride situation. I was completely unplugged, having turned down Tripp’s offer to buy me a new phone. I wasn’t ready to face reality—namely, my parents—so I could only imagine the flak Tripp had gotten during his brief conversation with Jett the morning after we’d tied the knot.
A flash of movement caught my eye, and I lifted my head to a view of Tripp hidden behind an armful of white sheets and pillows as he stepped through the door of our assigned motel room.
What in the world was he up to?
The back door to the truck was wrenched open, and the bundle of bedding was stuffed into the second row.
Twisting around, I teased, “Don’t think you’re supposed to take those.”
“Just borrowing. We’ll bring ’em back.” He slammed the door shut.
When he hopped back into the driver’s seat, my confusion was audible. “Um.” I looked from Tripp to the now-closed door to our room and pointed a finger toward it. “We’re not going in?”
His hand turned the wheel over as we backed out. “I’m taking you out.”
I bit back a groan. Though I’d said so jokingly earlier, I hadn’t been lying about being stiff. A hot shower was calling my name, followed by a round of hot sex, maybe takeout for dinner, and then a second shower—preferably with the hottie I married—before we passed out for the night.
Maybe if I pulled out the pouty lips, he would reconsider. “Do we have to? I’d much rather stay in.” I trailed my fingertips over one of the protruding veins along his forearm.
Tripp’s eyes shifted toward me before returning to the road. “We stay in almost every night. I want to take you on a date.”
“We go on dates.”
He rubbed his free hand over his face with a heavy exhale. “Watching the rodeo from the staging area isn’t a date, Lucky.”
“Suits me just fine,” I countered.
Humming, he replied, “As much as I love the country girl in you, it kills me this isn’t a proper honeymoon. I want to give you the world, Penny, andwhile what I have planned for tonight doesn’t come close, it’ll help soothe my conscience. For tonight at least.”
“Hey.” My hand slid up his arm before flattening over his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm comforting. “I have everything I need or could want right here. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life, simply being with you.”
Tripp’s head fell back against the seat. “Doesn’t seem like nearly enough,” he breathed out.
“It is. I promise.” I poured as much conviction as I could muster into those words.
His fingers curled around mine and squeezed. “God, I hope so.”
