Page 37 of Misadventures And Ms. Demeanor

I popped the top and looked at him, eyes wide. "Some women would love to hear you say that to them."

He ignored my words. "This is insane. Have you looked out the window?"

I pulled down a slat on the metal blinds behind my head. "Oh, shit."

We were practically surrounded. Motorcycles and cars were parked every which way, people standing around talking, taking pictures.

"The traffic is only getting worse and once we get to Sturgis; it'll be so crowded you'll never be able to leave town. Hell, you'll never be able to leave the RV. This thing isn't very subtle. You can't fend off these fans yourself."

"I can just tell them I'm not Silky Tangles," I replied.

He gave me the look as if I had lost my mind. "That didn't work for me."

"You believe me?" I asked.

"Look, it doesn't matter if I believe it or not. It doesn't matter what I think about you or this situation. We've entered some alternate universe. I feel like I'm inPlanet of the Apes."

I wouldn't take the situation that far, but then again, he wasn't the one who looked like a porn star. Well, helookedlike a porn star, all hot and gorgeous and rugged and all, but people weren't showing his picture all over Facebook.

"We're not going to Sturgis."

I put down the can. "What? Why?"

"Because I can't let you deal with this on your own." He waved his hand around the RV.

"What about Sarah, the dentist?"

He sighed. "There's always a Sarah somewhere." I didn't really like the sound of that, but who was I to judge? I wasn't a hit with finding a man either—Silky's thousands of followers aside. "Besides, I was kissing you a little while ago, not Sarah, and I want to do it again."

"What are you saying?"

"We're going to Fargo."

By eight that night,we pulled into a campground in western North Dakota. Fortunately, the few other people staying didn't appear to be connected to the internet, or maybe there wasn't Wi-Fi, because besides strange looks at the state of the RV, no one recognized me. Also, good news was there were showers. I stood beneath the hot spray to wash off not only the miles of traveling, but also the night in jail as well. The rustic shower was infinitely better than the one in the RV where the bathroom was so small I couldn't lift my arms up over my head to wash my hair.

When I got back to the RV, JT was tilting a bottle of liquor into a hole he'd cut into the watermelon. "It's like being in college again," he said. His hair was still damp from his own shower. He'd changed into a pair of cargo shorts and a gray MSU t-shirt. His feet were bare and his smile was relaxed.

"How much have you had to drink already?" I asked. He looked too at ease with our situation to be completely sober.

"Let's just say I found Esther's secret ingredient." He grinned and I couldn't help but smile back.

I'd never seen him this way. Ever since the first time I saw him he was tense or aggravated or frustrated. Or all of the above. Moody JT was pretty hot, but laid-back JT was working for me, too. Once the bottle was empty, he pulled it from the hole and shoved it into the corner by the toaster oven. Yanking open drawers, he found a knife, then set to cutting a section off the rind, forming a great big bowl.

The knife was tossed into the tiny sink and he pulled two spoons from another drawer, handing one to me. Sliding in beside me at the table, he pulled the watermelon in front of us.

"Cheers."

He scooped out a piece of dripping watermelon and ate it. I watched as he grimaced, then swallowed. I took a chunk of fruit myself and put it in my mouth. The secret ingredient most assuredly was grain alcohol because I swear I breathed out fumes of jet fuel.

"Holy crap, that's strong."

"Slides down smooth," JT replied. "You know, I was thinking about your problem."

I arched a brow. "Problem?" Which one?

"Why don't you just get your own place in Bozeman? I mean, you're old enough not to live with Velma anymore."

I scooped up some more watermelon. "True."