Free Challa by Linda Mooney Page A

paused for a second then accepted. “All right.”
    “Great!” He held out his hand, which she took, fingers lacing between his. Together they went to get Compton’s truck where it was parked near the hardware store.
     

     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 10

    Intimidation

     
    “Compton, please stop here and let me out.”
    He gave her a questioning look but went ahead and slowed down. Pulling over to the side of the road, he took care to avoid sinking into the ditch and stopped. Challa got out and closed the door, and waited for Compton to lower the window.
    He could see the carnival another quarter of a mile down the road. It stood out like a sore thumb, bordered on three sides by fields of low-lying soybean and cotton, making it easy as pie for people to spot it as soon as they left town. Come sundown when the tents and rides lit up, even a blind man could find it.
    “Challa, let me take you the rest of the way.”
    He could see the wind kicking up dirt on the road and in the fields. Little dust devils whirled past. In a matter of minutes, gray clouds like balls of dirty lint had rolled in from the west. Challa leaned in the window.
    “This is fine. I can walk the rest of the way.” Her hair lifted and swirled about her shoulders like a live animal. Her tone told him she didn’t want him to drive her all the way back to the carnival. For some reason she either didn’t want to be seen with him, or she didn’t want someone to see them together.
    He started to say something when a couple of fat raindrops splattered on the windshield. Compton shook his head. “Storm’s coming in. Get back inside, Challa, or you’ll get drenched.”
    “It’s okay, Compton. I need to—”
    The rest of her reply was drowned out by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. At the same moment, a wall of water fell from the sky and Challa gave a little shriek of surprise as she was drenched from head to toe.
    Compton leaned across the cab and shoved open the door. Challa scrambled back inside as another peal exploded directly overhead, followed by an increasing deluge. Quickly, he raised the window before pulling her against him. As the storm surged around them, they watched from within the warmth and safety of the cab.
    She was shivering in his arms, but his body heat was providing her with some measure of comfort. Her red hair, now the color of wilted rose petals, hung in thick, ropey strands. Her thin sundress clung to her body, revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and only the tiniest slip of a thong. The realization raised his libido to an uncomfortable level. Even so, there was no way he was letting go of her. Not when she had willingly come into his arms and was happy to remain there while the roaring rain beat incessantly on the truck.
    He felt her move slightly. A pale, cold hand reached up and found the neckline of his shirt, which was now as wet as she was. In fact, he was just as soaked to the skin as she was. None of it mattered. His arms were all the way around her slender body, and it would take a crowbar to pry him away from her.
    Challa moved slightly, adjusting her position where she was nearly sitting in his lap. Her fingers touched his throat, their tips like small ice cubes. “I love the way you smell, too,” she whispered.
    The confession surprised him. Lowering his face, Compton found her staring up at him. This close he could see the purple flecks moving in her irises, floating like tiny specks of ice in a glass of sapphire-colored water. Mild shock went through him as he wondered how that could be possible. However, his mind was still reeling from her simple statement.
    “My smell?”
    “Yeah. Like oranges,” she softly confessed.
    Oranges? Not like Old Spice?
    She shifted again in his lap, and nothing mattered anymore except for her buttocks grinding down his erection. There was no thought prior to what he did next. It was merely the right thing to do, and he did it without regret.
    Her lips were