Free Wicked Ride by Sawyer Bennett Page A

go explore
Yellowstone. Maybe tomorrow, depending on how fast Magnus is coming
back. I assume he’ll call me at some point today and give me a
tentative plan. Until then, he merely told me to stay out of trouble
and to keep a low profile until he got back.
    I walk a few blocks off the town
square, passing by a tattoo shop and wishing I had the time or extra
money to get one. It’s
always been a wish of mine, and I know exactly what I’d get.
    A pair of rolling dice on my
inner forearm.
    My signature grift.
    I pass a novelty T-shirt shop
with product hanging in the window that says things like “Wyoming:
Where Men Are Men and the Sheep Are Scared” or “I Support
The Right to Keep and Bear Arms” with a picture of a grizzly
holding a rifle.
    Past a winter sporting store
called Teton Ski and Snowboarding, which even though it’s
still fairly warm out, it seems to have a ton of people inside as I
pass by.
    To a shop specializing in cowboy
boots—
    “Auralie?” I hear
from behind me.
    Turning around, I freeze in place
as I see Logan walking out of the ski shop carrying a small paper bag
in his hand. His expression mirrors
mine, I’m sure. I
never thought I’d see you again.
    This we both knew was a truth
because Logan whispered it to me last night. While we were getting
dressed after that incredible session in the Black Room, he said he
wasn’t going to come
back into The Silo until after I was gone. It was both a sweet and
sad sentiment, and I understood his thinking without even asking him
why. I was also grateful he wouldn’t come back, because I
didn’t want him to see me on my knees before another man, nor
did I want him involved in this farce any longer.
    “Hey,” I respond in a
quavering voice, shaking as he walks toward me.
    “What are you doing here?”
he asks, his head swiveling left and right, I’m betting looking
for Magnus.
    “He’s not here,”
I tell him, and his eyes snap back to mine as his shoulders visibly
drop into a relaxed posture. “He went to New York for a few
days and left me back here.”
    The very second Logan comprehends
that Magnus is gone and I’m
here with no one to look over me, something flashes in his eyes that
looks dark and dangerous and yet so alluring, a surge of adrenaline
courses through me. I almost half expect him to grab me, pull me into
a dark alley if such a thing existed in Jackson, and have his way
with me.
    Instead, he reaches out for my
hand and says, “Come
on. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
    I don’t
hesitate. Don’t even think to deny him. My hand lifts out and
clasps his palm to palm because there’s nothing else I’d
rather do in this moment. He turns and leads me back in the same
direction I had just come from. We walk side by side in silence as he
maneuvers us past tourists who clog the sidewalks, across a busy
street when the walk sign says we can go, and down another sidewalk,
which puts us back on one of the main streets that border the Town
Square.
    He leads me with purpose. The
long strides and the way he grips my hand strongly but gently tells
me he’s determined
to get me someplace where we can sit down and talk.
    Actually talk.
    No more intent meanings hidden
within the depths of our eyes.
    While it was an excellent means
to communicate when we couldn’t
actually converse, I’m looking forward to just hearing more of
his deep voice that has just the sexiest of rumbles to it.
    Logan leads me to a restaurant
called “Frannie’s”
that looks like a log cabin. It has a flat, wide porch across the
front with several rocking chairs where customers can rock away the
time while they wait for a table. It’s past the early breakfast
rush, and there’s no one waiting outside. Logan leads me in,
nods at one of the waitresses, and pulls me through the restaurant to
the back where there’s a semi-private table in a corner by the
kitchen. He only releases my hand to let me slide into my chair, and
then he takes the one opposite me.
    With