Page 30 of Anger Bang
“It kept popping up on all those ads on news sites I was reading.”
Thea turned her full attention to him, which was saying something, since they were surrounded by dinosaur bones and more educational dioramas than it was probably legal to have in one place. “Were you researching your next book?”
“Just acting like a doom-scrolling junkie.”
What he didn’t mention was he was getting served nothing but dinosaur ads since googlingher—and readingallof her research papers online and articles until the wee hours of the morning. The ads were what had given him the idea to take Thea on a motorcycle ride, which had led to here, which had led to a big-ass dinosaur museum with a woman whose smile was so big it was making him grin. His facial muscles were going to be sore from the overuse after years of only smirking at the most.
Thea looked up at him, cocking her head to the side, her expression serious. “My therapist would say you need to find an outlet for all that stress your doom-scrolling is no doubt giving you.” She paused a beat, and her world’s-happiest-woman grin came back. “Of course, I would say that just means you need more dinosaurs in your life.”
Or maybe more dinosaur lovers.
Whoa, asshole. Dial back the not-gonna-happen. You can’t even kiss her. This is just a weeklong fuckfest. Nothing else—not that you do that other sort of thing.
Maybe not, but as he watched that perfect, high round ass of hers as she walked over to another display, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.
A half hour later, they’d moved on to admiring Jimbo the Supersaurus and the display of a massive Tyrannosaurus rex rushing a badass-looking triceratops when he overheard the mom of three kids (one grade-schooler in a dinosaur costume and two obviously bored middle schoolers) tell her wife, “That woman from that one show that we binged last month is in the gift shop with a camera crew.”
His gut sank. He didn’t need to sneak a peek himself to know who the mom had to be talking about.
They’d made it longer undiscovered than he thought they would, but damn, he really would have liked a little more time, if only—
The sight of the door behind the triceratops with “Staff Only” written on it snagged his attention. He didn’t think. He didn’t wonder if this was the right move. He just knew he had to do it.
“Come on.” He slid his arm around Thea’s back and started fast walking around the mammoth—no pun intended—display toward the door. “We gotta go.”
“But I was looking at that. Did you know that the triceratops’ horn isn’t a horn at all but is made out of the same soft protein that makes up human fingernails?”
“I did not.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the gift shop, the exit of which was crowded with autograph seekers. The middle schoolers had ditched their mom and were busy in frenzied selfie mode, no doubt with Jackie in the background of every shot. “But I did know your sister is here with a camera crew.”
Thea let out a tired sigh, and her steps slowed for half a second before she sparked back up when she spotted their intended destination. “The closet?”
“It’s good for at least another couple of minutes before they drag us back to Stinkingwater.”
And he’d take every minute he could get.
That doesn’t strike you as odd?
The answer to that was a solid yes, since, as a writer, he spent most of his time alone having imaginary conversations with people who weren’t in the room with him. (Yeah, fiction writers didn’t have the market cornered on writer weirdness.) But with Thea, it was different.
With one last look toward the gift shop, he opened the closet door.
Thea hustled inside, and he followed, shutting the door behind them.
There was a little window high up on the wall that brought in enough light to show they were in a small supply closet. The walls were lined with shelves stacked with toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and plastic T. rexes. There was barely room for him and Thea in here, but it was better than being out there.
“You, Kade St. James,” Thea said, giggling like a kid who’d just gotten away with sneaking out of the house for the first time, “are a bad influence.”
He shifted so that he was facing her as she stood with her back against a shelf full of brown folded paper towels. She looked up at him through her dark lashes. The closet was small, but it was big enough for them to have a few inches of space between them.
Of course, that was the last thing that was going to happen. He moved closer and dropped his hands to her hips, hooking his fingers in the loops of the motorcycle pants over her leggings, tugging her forward until she was pressed up against him.
“A bad influence is exactly what you need in your life,” he said as he dipped his head down, hovering right above that tempting mouth of hers.
She let out a shaky breath and reached between them, grasping the hem of his T-shirt and lifting it. “Too late. I already know your secret.”
“What’s that?” He lowered his mouth, coming within millimeters of her lush lips before changing course and kissing along her jaw before making his way to that spot by her ear that made her shiver.
“You’re a secret softie. You probably even have a dog that the shelter said was unadoptable, too.”
