Darcy Lewis decides somewhere between Dallas and Austin, as her beat up old Ford truck speeds down a two-lane back country road, that she's made for road trips. Well, she actually decided that weeks ago when her epic summer-post-grad-school-pre-big-girl-job road trip began, but she's reminded of why again today as she passes the gorgeous Texas scenery that reminds her so much of a scene from Friday Night Lights. (Shut up! She's a big fan of Riggins, okay?) Country music blares out of the stereo and she sings along loudly while the wind blowing in through the open windows whips her hair around her face and shoulders. She hasn't seen another car for ages and she loves the solitude. Most people would hate all this time alone, but she's not most people.
The whole trip so far has consisted of going wherever sounds like the most fun at any given time. Right now she's headed to Austin because she's heard great things about the music scene. From there she plans to head to New Orleans and check out Bourbon Street, but it's hard telling what she'll feel like in a day or two. Her wanderlust hasn't eased yet and she doesn't start her job until September, so she's still got a month and a half left to cram as many destinations in as possible.
Her truck makes a hideous noise while she belts out the lyrics to "Jolene" and she frowns, wondering if that is supposed to be a protest against her terrible singing or something. The noise stops quickly and everything seems gravy for another few miles. Then something under the hood makes another horrible grinding sound and the truck lurches and sputters to a stop despite the fact that her foot is firmly on the gas. "Motherfucker!" she yells and slams her hands against the steering wheel a few times.
Darcy pops the hood and jumps out of the truck; she is less than impressed with the smoke pouring from the engine. She has no clue how to do anything to a vehicle other than put in gas and drive the thing. Sighing, she walks back around to the cab and digs through her bag until she finds her cell phone so she can find out where the hell she is and then look up the number for a tow truck.
One thing she learns quickly? There's no cell service in Bumfuck, Texas. Fanfuckingtastic!
She huffs out an impressive stream of curse words while tossing some clothes and a few necessities into a bag. There is a voice in her head that suspiciously sounds like her father's telling her she should've taken him up on his offer of a new car instead of insisting on taking this piece of junk on a tour of the country. Now isn't the time for that, though, because she's got to hoof it to the nearest town or place with cell service so she can get the hell out of here. Sighing, she tucks her taser in the back pocket of her cutoff denim shorts, because no way in hell is she walking anywhere without it, let alone in the middle of the sticks. She slings the bag across her body, grabs her straw cowboy hat off the front seat and pulls that on before locking up the cab and slamming the door shut.
Goddammit, Texas is hot in July, she thinks as she walks down the road, the gravel on the shoulder crunching beneath her boots. She's cursing herself for taking the road less traveled rather than the fucking highway where motorists pass regularly and there are handy things like gas stations nearby and reception on her damn phone. The air is stifling and thick with humidity and she has to strip down to her tank top in order to make the walk more tolerable. She keeps checking her cell phone every five minutes to see if she's miraculously within range, but so far no luck.
Darcy makes it about a mile down the road, or so she thinks, but when she turns back she can still make out her truck stranded on the side of the road and she wants to cry. Tears won't do any damn good anyway, so she keeps those emotions in check and keeps walking.
After another twenty minutes she hears the telltale roar of a motorcycle engine approaching and she stops in her tracks, whirling around and reaching for her taser just in case she'll need it in a hurry. There's a man on the bike who looks really fucking amazing as he gets closer, but part of that is probably the heat and the fact that he's basically her only hope for rescue out here. He gets closer still and now she knows how amazing he looks has everything to do with how gloriously attractive he is. The other stuff, too, she supposes, but seriously. This guy? Gorgeous with a capital G. If she had to guess, she'd say he's in his mid to late twenties, tall, dark blonde hair, a jaw so chiseled you could probably sharpen knives on it, and apparently a gym membership that gets used daily if his shoulders and arms are any indication. His skin is lightly tanned from the sun and is a stark contrast against the white t-shirt he's wearing.
The bike pulls to a stop and the man smiles at her, and her stomach flutters like a ridiculous schoolgirl. "Hi," he greets and pulls off his aviator sunglasses. Jesus, his eyes are so blue. She doesn't think there's one single thing that's unattractive about him. "Is that your truck back there?" he asks, jerking his head back up the road.
"It is," she nods. "Thanks so much for stopping. I don't have any cell service out here and I really have no clue where the hell I am. You're really here, right? Not an oasis or anything that my heat-addled brain is imagining?" He laughs, this deep, rumbling sound that just makes him even more attractive, which didn't seem possible five seconds ago.
"I am. I'm Steve," he smiles, holding out his hand.
She takes his hand and shakes it. "Darcy. You should know I carry a taser, so if you're going to be charming only to lure me into some field to chop me up into tiny little pieces it won't work because I will taser your ass."
Steve looks a little stunned, but he laughs again, though a bit awkwardly this time, and scratches his eyebrow. "Sorry to disappoint you and your taser, ma'am, but I don't have any plans like that whatsoever. I just saw your broken down truck and then you wilting here on the side of the road. Thought you could use some help."
The ma'am is polite and very southern, but his accent is east coast all day; that's intriguing to her and makes her wonder what he's doing in the middle of nowhere Texas like she is. "Good to know," she says, a smile pulling at her lips involuntarily. "I can definitely use the help. Mind if I hitch a ride into the nearest town?"
He shakes his head and gives her a lopsided grin. "Not at all. Here, let me strap your bag down for you."
When he gets off the bike the idiom tall drink of water springs to mind and she's really glad she's got her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, because she brazenly checks out his ass when he turns around. It's pretty spectacular in the faded blue jeans he's wearing. Okay, so maybe her truck breaking down wasn't the worst thing after all, not when this hot motorcycle riding stranger came to her rescue. "Thanks, Steve."
"You're welcome, ma'am," he says, slipping on his sunglasses and giving her a dimpled smile.
She smiles genuinely in return because he's simultaneously excelling at being adorable, charming, and sexy as fuck, which is a combination she didn't think possible. "Darcy, please," she corrects though she doesn't hate the way ma'am rolls off his tongue. He climbs back on his bike and she slides on behind him. "No helmet?" she questions.
Steve shrugs and she can feel the laugh rumble through his back. "I like to live dangerously. You all set?"
"You bet," she answers as he starts up his bike.
He turns his head and smirks. "Better hold on, then."
Christ. She hates herself a little for being turned on by that; she really needs to get something to drink and get out of the sun. Steve revs the engine and she heeds his warning pretty quickly after that, wrapping her arms around his waist so she doesn't go flying off the back onto the pavement.
Steve's logged a lot of miles on his bike ever since he left New York on that first trip after the Chitauri and he's now seen more than half the country, visiting all the places he and Bucky used to talk about when they were kids whenever he's not needed as Captain America. Running into the gorgeous woman whose arms are currently wrapped around him on a deserted road in the middle of Texas is definitely one of the more interesting things about his adventures and it's only been ten minutes so far with her. He doesn't know whether that makes him completely boring or that he can tell the woman – Darcy – is anything but. Maybe a little of both, he supposes.
He'd planned on stopping and helping when he first spotted the broken down truck, but he was pleasantly surprised when he continued down the road and saw the curves on the brunette stalking the pavement in her short denim cutoffs and cowboy boots, long dark hair spilling out from under her straw hat and down her back. He was nearly knocked over when she turned around and he saw her pretty face, plump lips, and those full breasts expertly filling out the tank top she wore. She made him laugh right off the bat, too, rambling a mile a minute with talk about tasering him should he try anything untoward.
Now those breasts are pressed against his back and her hands are holding tightly to his abdomen as he speeds down the road towards the town the sign they just passed stated was only five miles away. He has to force himself to concentrate on driving and not the feeling of her body against his. It's not an easy task, either. Dark clouds are rolling in, the wind is starting to pick up, and it cools the air down significantly. Darcy sighs in what he assumes in relief and he feels every movement of it on his back.
Right, concentrating on not wrecking his motorcycle and delivering her in one piece.
Darcy hasn't been on a motorcycle since high school, she thinks, but she loves every second of the ride she's currently taking. It's still hot outside, yes, but the wind hits her whole body as Steve races down the country road and cools her core temperature a few degrees, especially once the sky fills with dark clouds. She doesn't hate the way his body feels against hers as she holds on to him a little tighter than she probably needs to. His body is ridiculously impressive, so who can really fault a girl for pressing her hands firmly against his stomach to feel the rock hard abs beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt? No one, that's who. Besides, it's for safety.
The tiny town leaves a lot to be desired when they roll in, but there's a little gas station up on the right with a worn and faded sign above it that reads Auto Repairs. Steve pulls into the lot and kills the engine. "Good lord, where the hell are we? Dog Patch?" she grumbles. She unwinds her arms from around him and hops off the motorcycle. Darcy takes off her hat and flips her hair over, trying to comb out some of the tangles with her fingers. Steve is watching her in amusement with this crooked and decidedly attractive smirk on his lips when she stands upright and tugs down her hat again. "What?"
He just shakes his head and slides off his bike, chuckling under his breath. "C'mon, let's go see about a tow for your truck."
"Oh, you don't need—" she starts, but he cuts her off.
"Do you remember which road your truck is stranded on?" he asks, a laugh lilting in his voice.
Darcy narrows her eyes and decides it's pointless to feign indignation. She hasn't a clue where her truck is and he knows it. "Fair point," she admits with a laugh. "Continue playing the white knight, then. I won't stop ya."
"After you." He opens the door for her and gestures for her to go ahead. And seriously? How the hell did she end up with this guy coming to her rescue? Her luck is total shit normally, and this kind of feels like she won the jackpot.
There's a middle-aged man with a grizzly beard and overalls behind the counter (of course there is) and his eyes fall to her chest (of course they do) as she approaches. "Hello," she eyes his name tag, "Larry. How are you?"
"Well, darlin', I'm just fine. What can I do for you?"
He's at least polite now, after the initial ogling of her tits. "I need a tow and some repairs. My truck broke down about ten miles from here."
"Can't help ya," he says gruffly.
Darcy narrows her eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Would like to help ya, but I'm afraid I can't. Our mechanic is on vacation and won't be back 'til Monday."
"Are there any towns close to here with a mechanic that is not currently on vacation, Larry?"
"'Fraid not. None that'll tow from that far away at least."
"I'm willing to pay the extra cost if that's what it takes."
"I don't reckon there'll be too much business of any kind taking place this weekend, darlin'. Have either of you looked at a weather report? Big storm 'bout to blow in and will probably last a few days."
Ah, there's the shitty luck she's used to.
Darcy and Steve both turn their heads towards the door as a clap of thunder booms loudly outside and see that the skies have darkened considerably in the short time they've been inside the gas station.
"I suggest you and yer boyfriend here grab a room over at the Tin Roof Inn and wait it out, 'cause you ain't gon' wanna be on that bike of yers when this bitch of a storm hits."
She wants to argue that he's not her boyfriend, but there's no point and it would only waste time they really don't have. Especially when thunder claps again and lightning flashes brightly in the sky. Fuck.
"How far to this inn, Larry?" Steve asks.
"Take the second light and head left on Jefferson. Can't miss it. S'right across the street from Piggy's Roadhouse."
Darcy turns on her heel and marches to the door and she hears Steve say, "Thank you for your help, sir."
"Yeah, thanks, Larry," she yells when she's halfway out the door. "For nothing. Well, this is just fucking fantastic," she spits. Lightning flashes again and she jumps.
"Get on, Darcy," he orders, throwing a leg over his bike. "I don't feel like getting struck by lightning today and I'm not going to let you either. We'll figure it out later."
She doesn't argue and quickly hops on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist again as he fires up the engine and guns it onto Main Street.