They make it to the Tin Roof Inn with about a minute to spare before the rain starts falling in sheets. A bell dings when they step inside and take a quick look around. The décor is dated and tacky, but the place is clean and, more importantly, dry, so Darcy's not complaining. She's stayed in worse places before. There are some dicey hostels in Europe and that's all she's going to say about that.
A plump woman with gray hair and a sweet face walks out to the check-in desk and gives them a warm smile. "Howdy! Welcome to the Tin Roof Inn. I'm Trudy. Looks like y'all made it in the nick of time."
"Hi, ma'am," Steve smiles and sets his duffel bag on the floor. Trudy blushes twelve different shades of red at that smile and Darcy understands completely. "Can we get two rooms, please?"
"Two? Aren't you and that pretty girl sharing?"
It was Steve's turn to flush as he clears his throat and scratches his forehead. Darcy really needs to stop finding him so charming. "Ah, no. We're not—together. Like that. So, two rooms then, please, ma'am."
Trudy hums and hits the keys on the ancient computer on the desk. "Sorry, honey, we only have the one left. But it's our deluxe room."
Darcy barks out a laugh. This whole day is straight up turning into some ridiculously cheesy romance novel plot because life is a fucking cruel mistress sometimes. Steve turns around and looks at her like she's lost her mind, not that he'd know if she had one to begin with; they've barely exchanged a few dozen words in the time since they met. "Sorry," she giggles and she can't stop. "This is absurd." She has to cover her face with her hands until she can get the giggles under control.
"I don't suppose there are any other places in town to stay?" Steve asks.
"No, darlin'. But I think we've got a rollaway bed I can put in the room," Trudy tells him.
Steve sighs and reaches for his wallet. "We'll take it."
"Let me get it," Darcy insists, digging through her bag for her wallet.
He shrugs and hands Trudy his credit card. "You can buy dinner."
"Y'all should head over to Piggy's. Great barbecue. Got dancin', too. I've got an umbrella you can use."
"Thanks, Trudy," Darcy smiles politely and takes the keys off the desk. "We'll do just that."
Of course they have to walk outside to get to their room, but at least there is an awning so they don't get completely drenched. Darcy stops outside room 125 and unlocks the door. She's got Speedwagon's "Ridin' The Storm Out" in her head and she bites her lip to keep the laugh at bay, because she gets the feeling that she's already annoying Steve and she doesn't want to do that since they're confined to sharing this room.
"I'm sorry about this," he says when he walks into the room behind her.
Darcy dumps her bag on the bed and gives him questioning look. "For what? If you hadn't come along and saved my sorry ass, I'd be stranded on that road in this storm."
He gets this bashful look on his face and he stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I mean about the room situation."
"Do you own the Tin Roof Inn?" she asks and he chuckles at that and shakes his head. "Then don't worry about it." He doesn't look convinced as she plops down on the bed and kicks off her boots. "I'm a big girl, Steve, and I have platonically shared a room with a man before. Plus I have my taser, so I'm not worried."
Steve snorts out a laugh and walks over to sit at the table by the window. "You and your damn taser," he teases.
Steve turns on the television so he can watch the weather and see if it's really supposed to be as bad as Larry told them at the gas station. The radar is covered with red and orange and the weatherman states it's going to be steady rain and heavy thunderstorms for the next two days.
Great.
He switches off the TV because he doesn't want to watch it anymore and Darcy's got her white earphones of her iPod in her ears while she paints her toenails fire engine red. His gaze follows up her legs to her face, which is propped up on her knee while she concentrates on her feet, her lush lips mouthing the words to whatever song she's listening to.
He moves to sit by the window again and digs out his sketch book from his bag. There's no point in pretending he's not going to draw her once it's open, so he doesn't try. She has an interesting face that is completely gorgeous and her body is…no, thinking about her body is just plain dumb and dangerous right now and he's not going to go there. Sharing a room with her for the next two days is going to be hard enough without sitting around thinking about her body and the way it felt pressed against him on his motorcycle. She's a total stranger and he needs to get a grip.
His pencil strokes once across the page when his phone buzzes on the table and he sees a text message from Bucky.
Bucky: How's the road trip, pal? Where are you this week?
Steve huffs out a laugh and types his response.
Steve: You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Texas.
Bucky: Try me.
Steve glances over to where Darcy is sitting and sees that she's got her legs stretched out now and she's wiggling her toes, inspecting her handiwork.
Steve: Helped a stranded dame after her truck broke down. Stuck in small town inn waiting out a storm. Supposed to last two days. Sharing room with her.
Bucky: Shut the fuck up and be serious
He rolls his eyes and types out another message.
Steve: Couldn't make this up if I tried, Buck.
Bucky: Good lookin' dame?
Steve grunts and his fingers hesitate on the keys.
Steve: Gorgeous.
Bucky: Details, Rogers. Details.
Steve: Blue eyed brunette, full lips, very dangerous curves.
Bucky's reply is full of those ridiculous smiley face emojis or whatever the hell they're called. The message is full of different laughing faces.
Bucky: I hope you brought condoms.
Steve: Fuck off, Bucky.
Steve glares at the screen because now he's thinking about Darcy and sex, especially once he hears a little moan escape her lips and he glances sideways over at the bed and sees she's lying on her back stretching her arms overhead, hair fanned out on the white duvet. One leg bends up and she lowers her arms to rest a hand on her stomach. Her head turns and she smiles at him, just a little upturn of her lips, and she is the very definition of sexy. "Can I draw a picture of you?" he blurts before he can stop himself.
Her smile grows a bit brighter. "You wanna draw a picture of me?" she asks shyly.
It's definitely the safest option right now. "Yeah," he says, grinning at her.
"Do I have to pose?"
"Nah, you're fine just like that," he tells her, picking up his sketchbook and flipping to a new page.
"Good. I'm comfy like this. Draw away, Steve, and when you're done we'll go eat. Deal?"
Steve nods and smirks. "Deal."
He works for a while, quietly sketching lines and curves to get the basic shape of her pose on the bed before going back and detailing her features. Her eyes are always on his face when he looks up and there seems to be a different emotion reflected in them each time, but she keeps her face still, with a quiet half smile on her lips.
She's comfortable from her position on the bed, but the only sounds in the room for the last half hour or so have been the rain falling steadily outside and his pencil scratching against paper while he draws; it's starting to unnerve her. Maybe it isn't the near silence that's unnerving, but the fact that she's under intense scrutiny while this man draws her. "Can we talk while you draw, or will that distract you?" she finally asks.
Steve glances at her and his lips twitch into a half smirk. "Sure. What would you like to talk about?"
"Anything at all. I don't know anything about you other than your first name, you ride a motorcycle and have a bit of a hero thing going on. You like to draw and while your manners suggest southern charm, your accent screams east coast."
He chuckles and looks down at the book in his hands, smudging some of the charcoal with his finger. "Well, my last name is Rogers. I don't know about being a hero, but I've always liked helping people. Love drawing, been doing it since I was a kid. Uh, my manners are courtesy of my mother, and I'm Brooklyn born and raised and current resident when I'm not traveling on my bike."
"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers," she grins. "How is that picture turning out?"
The look he gives her in response is fully impish. "Good. What about you, Darcy?"
"Oh. Right. It's my turn to share. My last name is Lewis, I'm a Pisces, I like long walks on the beach—" she trails off and laughs when he lifts his eyes and arches his left eyebrow at her. "What? Those are all true things, I'll have you know. I enjoy cracking a lot of jokes. Let's see—I just finished grad school, and I have been traveling since May in that piece of shit truck that I loved until the moment it stranded me on the side of the road. Grew up in Ohio and I'm kind of obsessed with music and movies, pop culture in general, really."
Steve huffs out a laugh and puts his pencil down. He pushes to his feet and sets his sketchbook on the bed for her to see. "There you go, Darcy Lewis."
Darcy sits up and grabs the book so she can see what she looks like to him. She's not expecting as much talent as is displayed on the page. It's really wonderful and it looks just like her, only much prettier honestly. "This is beautiful, Steve." He shrugs and his expression turns slightly bashful. It's adorable.
"Well, you are. Beautiful, I mean. So, it wasn't hard to draw that."
She's not one for blushing, but he's gone and made her do it. "My turn," she tells him, quickly wanting to deflect this attention away from her. She grabs his sketchbook and hops up off the bed to grab a pencil.
"You can draw?" he asks, clearly surprised.
"Shh. Just sit down and stay still." He does and she musters a serious face as she puts pencil to paper. She works quickly, biting her lip in concentration as she glances up periodically at him. His expression is so serious that it makes her giggle. Darcy's finished in about two minutes and she signs her name in the bottom right corner before tossing the book to him.
He grabs the book and bursts out laughing when he sees the terrible picture she drew which is just an exaggerated stick figure with a grim expression and muscles riding a motorcycle. "You're welcome," she laughs. "Let's go eat."