For Keeps

Troy bolted up in the small bed. As he rubbed his unshaven face he could swear his cheek and jaw were aching from the way too realistic dream. He glanced around the tiny motel room and remembered where he was. Oh yeah. They hadn’t caught him yet. He was still a free man. He felt a stir next to him and looked down at the shapely figure under the covers sharing the smallest double bed he’d ever slept in. He bit his lower lip. Shit. “Hey,” he said, pushing at her. “Uh, wake up.” Hell, he didn’t even know her name. All he could see pop out from under the covers was a mane of long, blonde followed by a bare arm. Oh, that hair. He was such a sucker for long hair. “You gotta go,” he muttered, pulling the blanket away to reveal her naked form. It was as fine as the hair. “Huh?” she asked wearily. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave. I need to get out of here.” She widened her gaze, attempting to focus on the ruggedly handsome man next to her. Slowly, she pushed herself up in the bed and stared at him, from the stubble that graced his jaw to the hair on his muscular chest. She smiled with the intensity of his deep brown eyes as he watched her. “Oh, yeah. I remember that look in the bar last night. You said it all without having to say a word.” He nodded obligingly and began to search for his clothes. “Wow,” she added. “It was so fun with you. You were super awesome.” “Thanks,” he answered and got up to put his jeans on. He grabbed her clothes and tossed them to the bed. Reluctantly, the young girl slowly rose only to rub her nakedness up next to him. “One for the road?” Troy felt the hardness of her nipples against his bare back. Damn. If only he had the time. He’d throw her right back down on that crappy mattress and fuck every— He turned. “I can’t. Sorry.” The disappointment was obvious on her face. But like a good sport, she picked up her blouse from the bed and began putting it on. “Can you put that on last?” Troy spoke up. “Let me enjoy those a couple minutes longer?” She smiled coyly and nodded. “You’re so cute.” She sighed as she took in his well-built, six-foot-three frame. “And strong. And I never got your name.” Troy was getting nervous, especially after that cop dream. “It’s not important.” He swallowed, running his fingers through his short, brown hair, currently a medium shade and having lost what was left of the sun-lightened color from summer. He curled his lip with how long it felt to his touch. Damn, how he hated when his hair looked messy. He supposed now that he was on the run he’d have to get used to looking like crap. As she pulled on her jeans and boots she looked over at his fine physique. “It turned out good.” She motioned to his crotch. He saw where her eyes were fixated. “What?” And he followed her gaze down his torso. His eyes got bigger with the view. Oh, fuck. He had forgotten about that. “It’ll be red and a little tender for a while. Just keep the area clean so it won’t get infected. I know. One of mine got infected before. It was super gross.” He nodded impatiently, checking out the time from his cell phone on the broken down night stand. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shoving in his cock and zipping up his jeans, shamefully covering the new artwork. When he glanced back, she was still looking his way. He felt guilty as hell for chasing her out. “Maybe next time I’m in town—” But she only shook her head. “It’s okay. I know I’ll never see you again. So thanks for last night. Really, it was super great.” God, her lack of vocabulary was really getting on his nerves. “My pleasure,” he responded politely, walking to the motel door. “Thanks for keeping me company and…stuff.” “The and stuff was fun,” she added, giggling. She made it to the door and pointed to her full, naked breasts. “Can I put my top on now?” Troy was staring at her delicious flesh. “Oh, sure.” He gave her a couple of seconds to throw on the shirt before he opened the door. “Take care of them—you,” he caught himself. “Drive safely.” The attractive girl only grinned. “You, too. Stranger.” Suddenly, she reached up to peck him on the cheek. He watched her walk to her old Camaro. She appeared to be dragging her feet. Her leaving was both good and bad. He really needed to get the hell out of Dodge but he could totally enjoy her for a few more hours. And yet he couldn’t even take the time to find out her name. Yeah. He felt like a louse for that. Plus he remembered calling her Christine by mistake. Troy rolled his eyes. Christine was the pain in his ass that had caused this whole nightmare. If it weren’t for her— Screw it. Shutting the door, Troy spun around and grabbed his large duffle bag, throwing it to the bed. He pulled out the rifle and checked the ammunition. Then he dug for another shirt and socks. Packing the rifle on the bottom along with his handgun he shoved his dirty clothes over them and felt for the hunting knife. Everything was right where he’d left it. Nervously, he rubbed his scruffy jaw again. Maybe he’d let the beard grow. After all, they were looking for a clean-cut forest ranger. If he looked more like a cave-dwelling mountain man maybe he’d have a better chance at escape. Hell, he wished he was back in his mountains in Big Bear, California and not in a sleazy motel outside of Las Vegas, Nevada. He sighed. Well, you can’t always get what you want. His depressing state of affairs made him want to piss, so he stumbled over to the bathroom, unzipping his jeans on the way. That damn tattoo. Who would’ve thought Troy Linden would ever follow through on his many threats to get one? As he stood over the toilet he vaguely recollected lying down on a table and hearing the noise of the needle. He hadn’t even freaked out. Doctors scared the shit out of him but he was probably so drunk he was totally relaxed the whole time they were digging into his skin and defacing him. Troy finished and touched at the tender area only to wince. Before he zipped his jeans he moved to the mirror and checked out the new addition. He narrowed his eyes with the artwork that stared back at him. At least they had done a good job. It was definitely Smokey the Bear smoking a cigarette and gracing the area over his cock like some kind of welcome mat. Damn. What was he thinking? Obviously he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been drunk and let a pretty girl talk him into permanently inking himself. Troy exhaled with a quick reality check. It wasn’t her. It was him. It was the bad side that kept showing itself. Hence bad Smokey. But as much as he deserved his bad label he still hated tattoos. He liked looking clean. And he took his job as a forest ranger very seriously. He loved what he did. As Troy stood staring in the mirror at that bad bear he grew sad. He had so fucked up.