Flipping Love You by Erin Nicholas

2

Zeke would’ve really preferred, however, to not have had a friend witness all of this. Especially a friend who would repeat it to the rest of his friends, most of whom were his relatives.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The woman went to the dog and told her she was a good girl and to come. Then they each picked up a goat and started in the direction of the petting zoo barn that was down the road.

The rest of the goats followed along behind them with Benny running from one side of the group to the other, barking and woofing. Zeke rolled his eyes. She had the general idea, but the goats were definitely following the humans, not listening to Benny.

The petting zoo was located directly next to the Boys of the Bayou Swamp Boat Tour Company office and docks and across the street from Ellie’s bar. Zeke was tempted to walk straight in there after they got the goats settled and the gate secured. But his bike was still up by the motel and for some reason, he wanted to make sure the woman got back to where she’d come from.

“Were you just passing through?” he asked her.

“I’m staying at the motel,” she said. “I was over at the convenience store getting food and was walking back when I saw you barreling toward the goat.”

Zeke looked at her as they walked. He could not read her. Was she joking? Surely, she had to be joking. “I wasn’t barreling,” he felt inclined to say.

“You would have been if it hadn’t been for the stop sign.”

He stopped walking. “I knew it! I knew I stopped. You manipulated me to get me to take those goats back to the barn.”

She gave him a look that said, “obviously”. “I wouldn’t have had to if you were a good guy and had just agreed to do it in the beginning.”

“I’m a very good guy. I was going to do it.”

“You sure were whining about it.”

Again, Michael snorted, but said nothing.

“I wasn’t whining. I’ve had a long day. And I just wrecked my motorcycle,” Zeke pointed out.

“You stopped at that stop sign. The goat was crossing the street. You started forward and then saw him and swerved. You were clearly not paying attention.”

“So?”

“So it’s your own fault.” She turned and started walking again.

Michael walked along beside her.

Zeke watched them for several steps.

He realized he was having a hard time processing this whole situation.

And yes, he was self-aware enough to realize what it was.

This woman wasn’t a bit charmed by him.

And she wasn’t letting him off the hook.

That sounded a little pathetic. He was twenty-five years old. It wasn’t like consequences were an entirely foreign concept.

But he was the baby of the family. He didn’t have a lot of consequences. Yeah, he knew how that sounded, but it was true. He was the youngest grandchild, except for a couple of girl cousins who didn’t live in Autre. He was the youngest boy in his family, even if it was only by two minutes behind his twin Zander. And he loved being the youngest.

Youngest children got away with all kinds of shit. He’d been aware of that from a very young age. Also everyone worried about him more. Everyone loved to take care of him. And he loved to let them. Could he have survived on his own if he had to?

He really wasn’t sure.

He’d never had to try and he couldn’t think of a time, at any point in the near future, when that would change, so he didn’t really think about it too hard.

He finally jogged a few steps to catch up with Michael and the woman.

“So you’re judging me to be a bad guy just based on this goat situation?” he asked.

Why did it bother him? He didn’t know her. She was clearly just traveling, spending the night in Autre. He’d probably never see her again. Why did he care what she thought?

But everyone thought he was a good guy. Okay, sure he was the baby and his brothers and even a couple older cousins, at times, rolled their eyes about how spoiled he was. But he knew it was mostly because they were jealous. No one thought he was actually a bad guy. No one believed he was lazy.

“How am I supposed to base who you are on anything else?” the woman asked. “I don’t have any more data to use.”

Well, she had a point. Zeke was so used to spending time around people who’d known him, literally, his entire life, that he didn’t have to worry too much about making good first impressions.

“I’m a great guy,” he said.

She glanced at him with one brow up.

Okay, so maybe even bad guys said that they were good guys.

He elbowed Michael. “Tell her I’m a good guy.”

“He’s a good guy,” Michael said.

The woman didn’t reply. She also didn’t seem that impressed.

But even more, she didn’t seem concerned, or unimpressed, or really like she had any feelings about it whatsoever.

That almost bugged him more.

Why did he want her to have feelings? He wasn’t even specifying that they needed to be good feelings. He just wanted her to have feelings about this, or him, or something.

They were back at the motel.

Michael started for his truck and Zeke thought fast.

He focused on the woman. “Do you have any ibuprofen in your room?”

Now she at least seemed surprised. She thought about the question for a few seconds. Finally she nodded, “I do.”

“Can I have some?”

“I’m sure your paramedic friend has some.”

Michael opened his mouth, but Zeke shot him a frown. “He’s out.”

The woman looked from Zeke to Michael and back. “I’d guess the convenience store has some.” She pointed in that direction. About twenty yards behind Zeke.

“It’s way over there and my head is pounding.”

She put a hand on her hip. “You can’t wait till you get home?”

“My motorcycle is trash.”

So it wasn’t exactly trash. He wasn’t even sure that it wasn’t drivable. But he wanted something more from this woman than detached and dismissive. He wanted her to either tell him to fuck off or come on in.

Yes, he was generally well-liked. He was definitely spoiled. But he was something else that younger brothers tended to be experts at—he could be annoying to the point of making anyone snap.

“And your paramedic friend won’t give you a ride?”

“Michael is very busy. He can’t be using his work truck, and his work hours, to chauffeur a friend around.”

“There’s no one else you can call? I assume this town doesn’t have Uber or Lyft?”

“Nope, no taxis. Nothing like that.”

“And you have no friends.”

“Well as you’ve seen tonight, I’m kind of an asshole.”

She studied him for a long moment. Zeke just let her. He met her eyes directly. His head really was hurting, so if she did have ibuprofen in her motel room, he would absolutely take her up on it. But he was a thousand percent certain that she knew that wasn’t what he was looking for.

Thing was, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. A reaction more than anything. A smile, an outraged gasp, an exclamation of some kind. A moan.

That last one hit him out of the blue.

But then he thought about it. Yeah, a moan. He would absolutely take one of those.

Zeke was aware that Michael was still standing by his truck. He was off far enough that the conversation was mostly happening between the woman and Zeke, but Michael was there in case she felt uncomfortable. Or, honestly, if Zeke ended up needing a ride.

Which Michael was probably pretty sure he would.

Finally, after what felt like two hours of thought, the woman shocked Zeke when she said, “Okay. I’ll give you ibuprofen.”

“Awesome,” Zeke said sincerely. Regardless of what ibuprofen really meant.

“So I’m okay leaving you?” Michael asked.

Zeke waited for the woman to answer.

“I assume that as a first responder you wouldn’t leave me alone with an ax murderer.”

Michael chuckled. “No, ma’am. Even if I wasn’t a first responder, I think I’d try to keep people away from ax murderers.”

“Or really a murderer of any kind? I guess ax murderer is pretty specific,” she said, showing that hint of humor again.

“I would not leave you with a murderer of any kind,” Michael said. “He’s a good guy. And I mean, after all, you’re not a goat so you don’t have to worry about him trying to run you over, or being neglectful, or uncaring.”

“Fuck off,” Zeke muttered.

But the woman nodded. “I guess that’s a good point. He seems to think that I should be very concerned about him just because we’re both human beings. I assume that he would extend that same level of care and concern to whatever I might need from him.”

Zeke’s gaze snapped to hers.

That sounded dirty. He didn’t care what anyone said. That sounded dirty. And not just because he’d whacked his head earlier.

The woman’s face was completely impassive however.

He looked over at Michael. Surely his friend thought that sounded like innuendo.

But Michael was already climbing behind the wheel, giving them a quick wave over the top of the truck. “Goodnight.”

Zeke turned back to the woman, planning to ask her just what kind of needs she was talking about, but she, too, had already turned away and was walking toward the motel.

Well, that was where the ibuprofen was and he was starting to think some painkillers were a good idea. He followed her.

The woman unlocked the door to number one eleven.

One eleven was funny, considering the motel had thirty rooms.

The door swung in, the woman stepped inside, and he followed.

She shut the door and turned to face him with her back pressed against it.

“I’m not sure if I have ibuprofen, actually,” she said.

He lifted a brow. That was…interesting.

It occurred to him briefly that she had asked Michael if she was safe with Zeke.

But no one had asked if Zeke was safe with her.

She was tiny, but she might have a weapon. She might be a black belt in karate. She might be about to release toxic fumes into the room. All of those things would really suck because they would certainly even up the physical playing field here.

But if it was just one on one, he could totally take her.

His body should not have responded to that thought the way it did.

But there was no denying the heating and hardening he experienced.

Now that they were inside in full light, he realized that her eyes were a deep moss green. Her skin was fair, as if she rarely spent time outdoors. She was slim but her arms, in the sleeveless shirt, showed muscle definition. Either she worked out or she had a physical job.

He was willing to take a chance here that she wasn’t an ax murderer.

“If there is any, it’s in the little travel bag in the bathroom next to the sink.”

“I’ll look. I need to wash up a little anyway.”

He didn’t find ibuprofen but he did find some tablets for menstrual cramps when he went through her bag. He read the back. Headache and body aches were two symptoms the tablets helped with—and wow, it sucked a woman could depend on getting those plus bloating, fatigue, and cramps once a month—so he figured what the hell? But he decided to take just one since he wasn’t bloated or cramping. He washed his hands and face and stepped back into the main room.

He decided to just cut to the chase. “So you think I’m kind of an asshole to goats,” he said. “What am I doing here?”

She tipped her head and let her gaze roam over him.

Zeke felt his eyebrows climb.

“I’ve had a really crazy week.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Actually, a couple of weeks. A really good friend of mine died recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.” She lifted her eyes to him again. “How do you feel about sex as a stress reliever?”

Awesome. He was now on the same page. A non-poisonous-gas-or-other-weapons page.

“In general, I am of big fan of sex, for almost any reason.”

The corner of her mouth curled up. And nothing could’ve removed Zeke Landry from that room now.

A reaction. An emotional reaction. Toward him, not a goat.

“How do you feel about sex as a stress reliever?”

“Big fan. It works really well for me.”

His body liked the sound of that. Not that he liked the idea she was stressed. He wasn’t an asshole, in spite of his previous goat interaction. But this conversation seemed to be going in a very nice direction.

“I’m happy to help,” Zeke told her. “I can be your personal therapist tonight.”

She waved her hand like she was flicking a fly away. “Sex is faster and easier than therapy. It’s also easier to get up the next morning than if I drink too much wine. And it costs less than going for a massage.” She tipped her head. “Can be faster than that too. But not always.”

“So your stress-relieving list is sex, therapy, wine, and massages. And sex is your preference because it’s faster, easier, and cheaper than all the others.”

“Yep.”

Wow. She was…something.

“Except, like I said, it’s not always faster than a massage.”

Right.

“How long are your massages?”

“An hour. Hour and a half if I’m really tense.”

“Yeah, this is going to take longer than that.” He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to make an impression on this woman, but now that he’d made her smile, and had her full attention, and had seen her green eyes up close, he was going to send her on her way with a huge grin and very fond memories of Autre.

“Do you have more tattoos?” Her eyes were back on his arm where his full sleeve showed beneath the edge of his t-shirt. Oh, she liked tattoos.

“I do.”

“Are you any good at dirty talk?”

The woman knew what she liked.

His entire body felt like he’d just taken a big shot of his grandpa’s moonshine. He was hot, on edge, and ready for the unexpected. Because when Leo Landry’s moonshine came out, you never knew what could happen.

“As a matter fact, I can’t really help it.”

She let out a breath. Then she gave him a full smile.

Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere for a nice, long time. And suddenly his head felt fine.

“Do you have a wife, fiancée, girlfriend, woman who thinks she’s your girlfriend even if you don’t think so?”

“No. No. No. And I did but we cleared that up.”

She gave him another of those little half smiles. Like she didn’t want to be amused by him, but she couldn’t resist.

“How do you feel about one-night stands? Because I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“They are my favorite kind of night stand.”

Her smile grew and Zeke felt a strange warmth along with the heat.

“And you won’t brag about this to your friends tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely going to brag to my friends about this tomorrow,” he said. He took a step closer to her. “Especially Michael. Since he was out there saving goats and being all charming and sweet and you didn’t invite him to your room.”

“He was on duty.”

Zeke lifted a brow. “That’s the only reason.”

“Probably. He’s hot. And has the heroic, sweet thing going for him.”

“He fakes most of the sweet stuff.”

“How about the heroic stuff?”

Zeke gave a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately for the rest of us assholes, that’s all real.”

She gave a soft snort. “Maybe I actually am concerned about your head and thought I should keep an eye on you to be sure you don’t slip into unconsciousness and never wake up.”

“I’m going to accept that only because I like it better than the realization that Michael could be in here with you right now.” He leaned in. “But I don’t believe you. I think you took a look at my boots and Michael’s and realized that mine were bigger.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know I did that?”

He paused, then shook his head. “You did do that?”

“Of course.”

“You are…”

“I know,” she said, when he trailed off.

He wasn’t even sure what he’d been intending to fill in there. Odd? Quirky? Fascinating?

Yep. To all of that.

“So, can I brag to my friends about it tomorrow?” she asked, her voice huskier now.

“You better,” he said, dropping his voice to a gruffer note.

The next smile she gave him was one that said he’d given all the right answers, but even more, it was filled with heat as well.

“There it is.” He reached up and cupped her face.

Her breathing got more ragged as she looked up at him. And she had to look up a ways. She was small. She probably stood about five-three to his six-four.

“What?” she asked softly.

“The reaction I’ve been going for.”

“Reaction?”

“Yes, until now. You’ve seemed very…dispassionate towards me.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she was thinking about that. “Have I?”

“You have.” He leaned in, bracing a hand on the door just above her ear. “Quite insulting.”

This smile was a little more sly and definitely had a touch of mischief. “Maybe you should see how passionate you can make me.”

“Oh, challenge accepted,” Zeke told her.

* * *

His posture with his one hand braced on the door and him leaning over her could have felt intimidating, like he was caging her in.

But Jill only felt excitement.

Her mother would have heart palpitations if she knew. She was in a hotel room in a strange town with a man she had literally just met.

And had just agreed to have sex with.

No, she hadn’t agreed. She’d been the one to initiate that entire conversation.

Well, hey, she didn’t have a masseuse or a therapist here. And yes, the convenience store did have wine but she’d have to walk way over there while this big, hot Louisiana man with long hair and a beard and tattoos and a motorcycle was right here.

And clearly willing.

And she wasn’t worried at all. She didn’t know if it was because of the paramedic reassuring her that this man was a good guy, or the fact that this was actually a town much like the town where she’d grown up, or what.

Autre was tiny and everyone knew one another. Her friend Griffin was here. Granted, he’d accidentally settled here, but he seemed grudgingly happy. In fact, he seemed more than grudgingly happy. His girlfriend, Charlie, had family here and had, evidently, spent a lot of time here growing up. If she and Griffin both liked this town, Jillian felt safe here.

Yes, that all seemed probably a little convoluted as far as rationale went, but it was working. Her conscience was very cool with this.

She studied him up close.

His dark brown hair was gathered back in a ponytail, but she would guess it would hang past his shoulders when loose. In the dark brown were lighter streaks that gave him the look of someone who worked outside, or a model. His beard was short, but dark and full, and even his eyes were a deep brown.

He also had piercings in both ears, a gold stud and a hoop on the left and one gold stud on the right.

Dammit, everything about him was her type.

She knew that good guys with steady jobs and day planners were who she should be attracted to and they were who she’d dated almost exclusively. Jillian knew that in the big picture, she was looking for an opposites attract romance. But not like this.

She didn’t have any tattoos and she’d only ridden on a motorcycle once. She’d had her ears pierced when she was twelve, but she’d let the holes close up and didn’t own any earrings anymore.

But no, the opposite type of guy she was looking for was the 9-to-5-Monday-through-Friday-had-a-401k-put-appointments-in-his-phone-and-never-forget-a-birthday type. Not the clearly-wasn’t-afraid-of-needles type.

She wasn’t even concerned about her own birthday so much as she was hoping for someone who would help her remember other people’s birthdays.

Because she sucked at that kind of stuff.

She needed someone in her life to keep everything else straight so she could focus on work.

She needed someone who had a normal, sane life because they could then add some sane and normal to her life.

That’s how it had been with Stephen anyway. No, they hadn’t worked out, but he’d showed her what was possible. She was definitely looking for another Stephen.

She was not looking for a smooth-talking, tattooed, motorcycle guy who didn’t even care when he almost killed a baby goat.

But her body and her brain did not agree on what she was looking for in a man. And every once in a while, her body won the battle.

She’d had a very nice friends-with-benefits thing going with Dan back in Omaha. It had been very low-key. About once a month one of them would call the other, they’d compare their calendars, pick a night, and scratch their itches.

Then they’d go on their merry ways for another month or so.

It had been perfect. No letting him down when she had to work late—or worked late because she forgot she’d promised to go to the theater with him.

Stephen had really liked the theater. The third show he’d ended up attending alone at the last minute had been the final straw.

Dan had never asked her to the theater. Or to a movie. Or to dinner. They literally got together, said hi, and took their clothes off.

It had been amazing.

But it had been a while.

She looked up into the brown eyes of the goat terrorist.

She was really going to enjoy having sex with this guy. She could just tell. There was something about him, goat terrorist or not, that said he could deliver on orgasms.

And hey, even if there was a little false advertising going on, he had all the parts she needed and she knew how to help herself. He was big, claimed to be able to talk dirty, and he had tattoos.

She could do the rest of the work if needed.

“Maybe I should get your name,” Zeke said.

Jill felt a little shiver dance down her spine. She loved his voice. Deep, rumbly, and that drawl. Yum. She was from the Midwest. Everybody talked the same there. There were no drawls or accents. She already liked a few things about the south a lot. The beignets she’d had earlier that day had also been amazing.

“Jillian.”

Sure, it was really a small town and she was going to be living here, and there was a chance they might run into each other again. But she fully intended to be an eccentric, anti-social millionaire who owned penguins. She didn’t think they’d be seeing each other at the local bar or anything.

And hey, if tonight turned out well, she might want to run into this guy again. Every once in a while. With very long stretches in between. And only for a night at a time.

Still, he really did put off playboy vibes that said he could easily be trained to be her new Dan.

“Hi, Jillian. I’m Zeke.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he covered her lips with his before she could.

Fine. Talking, especially at moments like this, was overrated.