"Because."
"Because? That's it? That's all I'm gonna get?" His eyes were light; a teasing smile tugged on his lips. "After all we've been through together?"
Debbie started to smile-a smile she quickly squelched as Preacher sat up and swung his legs out of bed, a maneuver that dragged his jeans further down his hips. He reached for his cigarettes while Debbie struggled to keep her gaze above his waist, away from the evident bulge in his pants that hadn't been there earlier.
"Did you smoke all my cigarettes?" Frowning, Preacher shook the empty pack.
"Shit," she muttered, scrambling out of bed to hand him the half-smoked cigarette in her hand. "I'm sorry."
"Goddamn, Wheels, you are an expensive date." He flashed her a wry look. "Least I still got my wallet."
Debbie looked down at her lap, her bottom lip disappearing beneath her teeth. She deserved the jab, yet it still stung.
"Jesus," Preacher groaned. "'Bout to lose another day of riding."
Debbie's gaze shot to Preacher and found him scowling at the table clock. Angrily he stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray.
Realizing he would be leaving soon, the candy bar she'd eaten earlier turned to stone in her gut. There would be no more motel rooms, no more hot showers. She would be alone again with nothing but the road to keep her company.
Weak, weak, weak, she thought bitterly. After all she'd been through, all she'd survived? She shouldn't be this weak anymore.
But she could already sense all those unwanted feelings rising to the surface. And even as she attempted to steel her emotions, ready to battle them back down to where they belonged, she knew it was pointless.
She'd only spent a few strange moments with Preacher, but those moments had been enough. He'd given her beautiful glimpses of things she'd long gone without: protection, companionship, and conversation.
It was Sunshine all over again-a stranger unexpectedly dropping into her life, filling all those secret holes inside of her, the ones that had been carved from loneliness and starved for companionship … only to end up leaving her.
Preacher climbed out of bed and Debbie's gaze lifted. Arm muscles shifted and rolled as he stretched, reaching for the water-stained ceiling. The movement caused his jeans to slide another half inch down his hips. Visually tracing the long lines of his body, Debbie's mouth went dry
The urge to touch him, to run her hands over his suntanned skin, to tug his jeans down just a little farther, was so palpable that her fingers began to twitch.
"You still headed to the city?"
Debbie jerked her eyes away from Preacher's gaping waistband and hurried to school her expression, hoping he couldn't read her and wouldn't know what she'd been thinking about.
Her hope died a quick death when she found him staring at her, his features tight, his eyes burning. Her breathing hitched. Her grip on her notebook turned crushing. A hundred butterflies fluttered inside her.
It took her several seconds to recall he'd asked her a question, and several more to answer as she made a concerted effort to keep her gaze away from his sagging jeans.
Swallowing, she nodded through the fog that had taken up residence in her brain. "Yes," she said quietly.
Despite Preacher's warnings, her plans hadn't changed. If not New York City, then where would she go? She couldn't live like this forever-moving from truck stop to truck stop, living out of her backpack and off the kindness of strangers.
This wasn't a life. At least not a fulfilling one. And Debbie wanted more.
Preacher cleared his throat. "You want a ride?"
Debbie blinked up at him, her eyes widening.
"But I'm gonna need to make a pit stop upstate before showin' my face in the city," he hurried to say. "If you're cool with that, you got yourself a ride."
Was she cool with spending more time with Preacher? Debbie pressed her lips together-an attempt to prevent the burst of excitement inside her from making a noisy escape. Her stomach somersaulting, she nodded happily.
The corners of Preacher's mouth lifted, his lips twisting into a small smirk. Idly scratching at his beard, he started across the room.
Pausing just outside the bathroom, he tossed her a glance over his shoulder. "Hey, so, you gonna tell me your real name?"
She floundered for a moment. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to be honest with him, genuine. But at the same time, she never wanted to hear that name again, be that girl again. She wanted that girl to disappear forever.
"I like Wheels," she finally said.
She truly liked the nickname. Maybe because Preacher had given it to her, and therefore it wasn't a lie. It was real, genuine-the latter being something she was not.