August took the back roads away from town and toward the interstate. Sitting in his truck, I held my overnight bag like it was a life preserver tossed to me in choppy water.

"Pretty soon," he said, "we're gonna have a talk about what all you've heard about me."

When I looked over at him, he kept his eyes on the road. "What do you mean?" I asked, playing stupid.

"Well, something, or someone, led you to believe I could help find your friend."

I started squirming in the seat. Damp curls clung to the back of my neck. "I just heard someone at the store mention you'd found something he lost. He didn't get any more specific than that." 

Finally, August met my stare. As much as I wanted to look away, I didn't dare, for I feared he'd realize I wasn't being truthful.

"You have pretty eyes," he said. "Is that why your mama named you Dove? Because your eyes are gray like a dove's feathers?"

The sudden change of topic derailed me. I let out a helpless laugh, both flattered and unnerved by August's compliment. "I don't think so. But then again, I have no idea why Mom does anything. We're really different."

"She's taken up with that asshole from Greenville," August said.

I raised my eyebrows, surprised he knew. "That's the one."

August made a regretful sound. "She should steer clear. So should you."

A flush of shame heated my cheeks. "I do my best."

The silence that fell between us wasn't uncomfortable. The passenger window was cracked to let in some fresh air, and I slipped my fingertips through the opening. In the closeness of the truck cab, I occasionally caught August's scent, along with my own. His was more pleasant, since I'd practically sweated through my dress during the interrogation at his house.

"You hungry?" he asked once we were on the interstate. The surrounding mountains were now dark and featureless. "I was just about to eat dinner when you showed up earlier."

Though talk of food made my stomach growl, I glanced at the clock in the truck. Since August had a lead foot, we were making good time. Still, I was eager to reach Franklin before it got too late. With any luck, August could call some people when we arrived, and maybe even learn something about Tanya.

"Hey," he said, "I told you what I'd do for you, and I'll keep my word. One meal ain't gonna put us too far behind schedule."

Somehow, I managed to bottle up a frustrated sigh. "Sure, I could eat," I said with a phony smile.

I fought the urge to gnaw my fingernails down to the quick while he took an exit. Just minutes later, we were in the parking lot of a steakhouse. 

"Hey, I can't afford this," I said. "I only have five hundred dollars, remember?"

"You mean, you did have five hundred dollars. Money's mine now." He parked the truck and cut the lights, then the engine. "Tell you what. Dinner's on me."

"Um..." I felt like I should keep arguing, but I only said, "Thanks."

The restaurant wasn't busy at that time on a weeknight, and a hostess led us to a booth by the window. August ordered a sweet tea, while I settled for water.

As we studied our menus, he said, "The sirloin's pretty good here. You should try it."

"I'll just have a salad."

August leveled a knowing stare on me. "You'll be hungry later, and then you'll be eating overpriced crap out of the motel vending machine. Fill up now."

"A salad will be plenty," I insisted.

But when the server came to take our order, August said, "We'll both have the sirloin, medium-rare, with a baked potato. And she'll have a side salad as well."

I waited until the server left before telling August, "This will eat into your profit margin."

His snicker let me know what he thought of the potential profit margin from this job. "Clever girl." He lifted his glass of tea and took a sip. I noticed he'd chewed on the straw, almost flattening it.

"You used to be a smoker," I said. 

Surprise flickered across his face. "What makes you say that?"

"The toothpick you had earlier. And the straw." I nodded toward the damage he'd inflicted on the plastic. "You're wanting a cigarette."

August let out a groan at the mention of one. "I'll want a cigarette till my dying day, but I quit last year." He tilted his head a little, his smile playful. "Not only clever, but observant, too."

I ducked my head, ridiculously shy. While I picked at my salad, too nervous to eat much, August tapped away on his phone. I saw it was cheap, only marginally better than my own. Each time he got a reply to his texts, the device chimed. I wondered if he was reaching out to people about Tanya.

Catching my hopeful expression, August pursed his lips in a tight line. "Don't be getting your hopes up, Dove. I'm throwing out some lines, but that doesn't mean anyone will bite."

Our meals arrived, and August put his phone aside to focus on eating. I noticed he cut one piece of steak at a time, then relished each bite. I did the same, and I had to agree it was delicious.

"You come out this way a lot?" I asked. "You seem familiar with the area."

"Used to date a woman who lived in this town. She loved coming to this restaurant."

I knew better than to ask too many personal questions. Instead, I looked around, imagining August and some gorgeous blonde sitting at a nearby booth. Did he flash that same charming smile at her? Did he tease her the way he sometimes teased me? Maybe he was totally different with someone he had romantic feelings for.

I managed to eat only half my steak. Meanwhile, August cleaned his entire plate.

"You ain't gonna finish that?" he asked, pointing his fork at the sirloin before me.

"I don't think I can eat another bite." At least I'd finished my salad and baked potato. "And I need to lose weight, anyway."

He let his gaze settle on my ample cleavage for just a second. Not long enough to be pervy, but long enough for me to notice. Then he said, "I beg to differ."

I took my bottom lip between my teeth so August wouldn't see my smile. That single look he'd given my tits, and the low tone of his voice, made a tingling start between my thighs. The sensation was vaguely similar to pins and needles, only without any of the discomfort. 

August probably knew I wasn't used to receiving attention from guys. But did he know how his casual comment affected me?

I suspected he did.

When he grasped my plate and slid it in front of him, I had to grin. "Is that a habit of yours?" I asked. "Finishing people's leftovers?"

He paused, his fork and knife held steadily above the plate. I sensed he was giving my question more thought than I'd intended. 

"At my house, we didn't waste food," he finally said. "If I couldn't eat the Hamburger Helper my mom fixed for dinner, then by God, I'd have it for breakfast the next day. I'd have it for every meal until it was gone."

I feared I'd made a huge misstep. "I'm sorry," I hurried to say.

August shrugged. "It's nothing. At least I didn't starve."

For the rest of the meal, neither of us talked much, and I was relieved when the server brought the check. August paid with cash, leaving a hefty tip as well.

We reached Franklin after eleven. I tried not to let my disappointment show, though I knew there wasn't much chance of August learning anything about Tanya tonight.

The motel he chose had only a few vehicles parked out front. "I've stayed here a time or two," he said. "It's nothing fancy, but the rooms are clean."

I'd never stayed in a motel by myself. "Can we get rooms side by side?" I asked.

August was about to get out of the truck, but my question made him stop and turn toward me. "You want to waste money on separate rooms?"

"Uh..." Again, I found myself flustered, unsure of how to respond. After all, he had a point. "No. One room is fine. Separate beds, though."

The parking lot light provided enough illumination for me to see his grin. "Of course."

While August went to pay for the room and get the key, I waited in the truck. A glance at my phone let me know no one had tried to contact me. Through the bleariness of creeping exhaustion, I was astonished to be here. In the span of one evening, I'd become broke and jobless. And I'd be sharing a motel room with a man I barely knew.

I sent yet another text to Tanya, though I had little hope it would be answered: please let me know you're okay.

Room key in hand, August returned to the truck for his bag. He insisted on carrying mine as well. I noticed he double-checked to make sure the Ford's doors were locked. 

"You're in luck," he said as I followed him. "The room cost you less than eighty bucks. The less we spend, the longer I can look for your friend."

Inside the motel room, I glanced around. Everything appeared worn out; the furnishings had to be at least fifty years old. But August was right about the place being clean.

I half-expected things to get weird between us then. We'd take turns using the bathroom and getting ready for bed. Afterward, we'd turn off the lamp, each of us in our own bed while hyper aware of sharing this small space.

But if I thought August was ready to call it a night, I was wrong. As he sank into the chair in the corner, his stare remained fixed on his phone.

"Turn on the TV if you want," he said.

The last thing I wanted to do was watch TV. After closing the curtains to block out the light from the parking lot, I took a few steps toward August.

"Have you heard from someone?" I asked softly. The way he was studying his phone, then tapping out a response... "Does someone know where Tanya is?"

Though he raised his head to meet my eyes, I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "I've got a possible lead. The guy I want to talk to works second shift at the local plant. He'll be through at midnight."

I looked at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. "Half an hour from now." Regarding August again, I asked, "Is this guy a friend of yours?"

"Friend of a friend. If something out of the ordinary is going on in Franklin, he'll likely know about it. Now we just wait and see if he's willing to talk to me. I'm sure he won't do it out of the goodness of his heart."

I folded my arms over my chest, trying to project calm. For some reason, I didn't want August to know just how eager I was to learn anything about Tanya, how desperate I'd grown for even a snippet of information.

"Well," I said in a surprisingly level voice, "you've got money."

That made August smile. "Sure enough."

Finally, my anxiousness got the better of me. "Let me just use the bathroom real quick, and then I'll be ready to go with you if you hear from him."

In an instant, August's smile vanished. "Oh no, you ain't going anywhere. Best get ready for bed." I opened my mouth to argue, but he didn't give me the chance. "Remember when I said you could tag along if you stay out of my way? This is one of those times when you're gonna do just that."

I threw up my hands. "Then why did I even bother coming with you?"

"Hell if I know." Seeing my scowl, August went on. "I might need you to come along later, Dove. But not now. The less you know about all this, the better."

His words made my mouth grow dry. "But," I managed in a strange, wheezy voice, "why would this man have any information about Tanya? Is she in danger?"

August must have sensed the panic trying to swallow me, for he was on his feet in an instant. "This guy might not know her or Rick," he said in a firm but soothing tone. "Like you said, we've got little to go on, but I have to start somewhere." He waited for me to nod that I understood. "Now, you really should try to get some sleep. I'll do the same. It might be hours yet before I hear anything else."

It felt wrong, almost like a betrayal of Tanya, to follow my normal routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth. Shouldn't I be pacing the floor, waiting for August's phone to chime with a message?

But what good would I be to anyone if I could barely stay awake tomorrow? It was a smart idea to get a few hours of rest now. 

In the bathroom, I took off my dress and then slipped into a pair of pajama pants and a soft nightshirt. For a moment, I considered wearing my bra to bed, but the thought of underwire digging into my flesh made me cringe. 

I actually let out a groan of relief when I unhooked the bra's clasps. My breasts were heavy, noticeably unsupported beneath my shirt. I wouldn't be doing any pacing in front of August while looking like this!

When I left the bathroom, he gave me only a quick glance. He'd already taken off his shirt, and I refused to let my attention linger on the golden hair on his chest. Or the narrow trail of hair along his belly, leading into his jeans. Instead, I practically threw myself beneath the covers of the closest bed.

Once August slipped into the bathroom, I could easily hear him behind the closed door. It made me blush to think he'd been able to hear me as well. But maybe his attention had been on his phone, on sending and receiving messages. 

My blushed deepened at the sound of him relieving himself. I heard the toilet flush, and then water running in the sink. For some reason, my thoughts drifted to that woman he'd mentioned during dinner. How long had they dated? I wondered.

Curiosity drove me to lift my head and peer at the small nightstand between the room's two double beds. August's phone screen was dark; I was almost certain it was locked. 

Minutes later, he rejoined me, still wearing his jeans. His smile was easy as he said, "You look worn out."

"It's been a long day," I replied. 

"Get some shut-eye. I'll wake you if I learn anything new."

I lay on my side, with the covers pulled up to my chin. After August climbed into the other bed, he leaned to switch off the lamp.

Darkness flooded the room, stunning my eyes with the sudden change. When the air conditioner kicked on, it released a slightly mildewed odor, reminding me of a musty basement.

August didn't say anything else, and neither did I. In the quiet, and in a room so dark I had to blink to determine if my eyelids were open or closed, I fell asleep faster than I ever thought possible. All the worry and adrenaline, the anxiety and dread, seemed to collapse in a heap within me, making room for oblivion to take over.

When I again woke, I was disoriented. Glancing at the clock, I found I'd been asleep for just an hour. The air conditioner no longer ran, and all I heard was the distant whoosh of occasional traffic on the interstate. 

Straining my ears, I also detected August's slow breathing. I listened to the sound, comforting in its own way, until I was certain he was asleep.

I remained lying on my side, afraid to change position since the bed squeaked in protest at my every movement. At some point while sleeping, I'd worked a hand between my thighs, and it was still caught there.

All at once, shame and need collided inside me. Silently, I cursed myself, angry for being so weak. 

Yet my fingers sought out a destination they knew well. 

It had become a habit in recent months, the urge to masturbate before I drifted off to sleep. The act wasn't even about sex, not really. I considered it more like self-soothing, a way to release stress. I'd learned to have the quietest orgasms possible. 

But tonight, in this room? What the hell was I thinking? In disgust, I yanked my hand from between my legs and willed my eyes to close again.

Minutes slipped by, and sleep avoided me. I knew it would linger just beyond my reach until I indulged in my usual masturbation session. 

Again, I listened to make sure August was asleep. Growing braver, I slipped a hand into my pants and underwear. My fingers worked their way between my plump outer lips, getting coated in juice in the process. I held my breath while grazing my clit.

That warm, tingling current August triggered earlier in the restaurant immediately returned. When I remembered how he'd given my breasts an appreciative glance, my touch became firmer. 

Flesh swelled under my fingertip. I alternated between toying with my clitoral hood and caressing that sensitive bud directly. My hips moved without warning, causing the bed springs to groan. At first, I was afraid the noise would disturb August, but his steady breaths and occasional light snores continued. 

I rubbed faster, and faster still. My wet fingers moved without friction. I could feel the pleasure condensing not only at my clit but also inside my pussy. My jaw slackened, and my own breathing sounded labored. I was so close, with my body prepared to surrender. I could have cried from relief when the orgasm started building within me.

"What are you doing over there?"

Though August's voice was quiet, I was still so startled I almost shrieked. My hand immediately stilled, and my muscles, already tensed, grew even tighter. 

"Nothing." The word was sharp, defensive. 

August stirred in his bed. "Doesn't sound like nothing."

"I'm trying to sleep!" Now I was coming across as panicked, like someone who'd been caught committing a crime. And it kind of felt that way. My face was burning hot. "You woke me up."

He chuckled. "I've been lying here, listening to you touch yourself, for a good five minutes. You about done?"

I had no idea what to say. When I tried to respond, I let out a humiliating croak. "I'm sorry," I finally managed. Always, I was apologizing to him.

Maybe August realized how mortified I was, for he stopped his teasing. "No need to apologize," he assured me. "There's no shame in rubbing one out."

"It helps me sleep sometimes," I admitted. No way was I telling him I "rubbed one out" pretty much every night.

"Maybe I should try it." I could tell he was grinning. "I'm tired," he went on, "but this sorry bed is keeping me from a decent sleep."

His comment, casual as he made it sound, caused my heart to pound so hard that I could hear the beat in my ears. My hand was still between my legs, and my clit pulsed from all the attention I'd given it.

"You mind if I try it, Dove?" August asked, his voice even lower now.

I was thankful for the darkness hiding us both. I would have been so ashamed if August had been able to see me. 

"I don't mind," I whispered.

I heard the button pop loose on his jeans, followed by the slow lowering of his zipper. His faint groan carried over to me. 

My fingers returned to their work. This time, I didn't try to control my breathing, or fight my own moans. I was sure August could hear how fiercely I was rubbing myself as I tried to come. 

And I heard the softest whisper of his hand moving along his dick. It surprised me, how fast he was going at it. Maybe listening to me before had gotten him hard. The thought of turning him on made my pussy muscles clench.

I'd just pressed my mouth against the pillow in case I got too loud when August said, "You had me fooled. I thought you were such a good girl. Yet here you are, playing with your pussy."

Those filthy words sent a jolt through me. My feet arched, and my toes curled. Shame left a sour taste on my tongue, but my hand never stopped.

August grunted and groaned. The bed springs creaked as he shifted his weight. "Soon as I realized what you were doing over there, I got good and hard," he confessed. "I can hear how wet you are."

"I'm... almost there," I told him, panting all the while. 

"You like being a dirty little slut?" he demanded. "I bet guys love helping themselves to that juicy cunt of yours."

My arousal dimmed, as if August had reached inside me and turned down the knob on my pleasure. He made me feel like a whore. 

"I'm not like that, August." My voice was gravelly from trying to hold back tears.

He realized I was no longer frantically masturbating. "It's okay," he quickly assured me. "There's nothing wrong with what we're doing." His tone was gentler now, close to pleading. "I want you to come for me."

It was strange, hearing him gasping and helpless, but it was exciting, too. I rolled onto my back and spread my legs farther apart, then went at my clit as if my very life depended on having an orgasm. By now, I was tender, almost too sensitive, but I knew I could throw myself over that edge. 

Right before it happened, I let out a cry. Beside me, August was jerking off at a frenzied pace. I allowed myself to imagine him in the lamplight, his cock hard in his hand. I let myself picture his face, and the wild look in his eyes. 

The images rushed through my mind at high speed until I climaxed with a shudder. I figured August wanted me to scream and wail, but I'd perfected the art of being quiet during these solo sessions at home. And so I could only groan, then suck in a lungful of air, and groan again.

The entire time, I quaked on the bed, my fingertips tormenting my clit until it became too much, and I jerked my hand away.

August came seconds later. He groaned, then released a higher-pitched sound that reminded me of a whimper. 

Afterward, we didn't say anything for a minute. Instead, we lay there, breathing hard. I was a little dizzy, having hyperventilated at the end there. Strands of hair were pasted to my damp cheeks.

"I need to pee," I suddenly announced. That was true, but I also needed a moment to myself after what I'd done.

August laughed again. "Don't let me stop you."

I used my phone's flashlight to guide me. On my way to the bathroom, I was careful not to cast any of the light on August.

With the door closed, I sat on the toilet and tried to relieve myself. It took some time, just as it always did when I'd masturbated for a while. After I was finally able to pee, I washed the smell of sex from my hands and ran damp fingers through my tangled hair.

Back in the room, August had turned on the lamp. I was secretly disappointed to find he'd cleaned up and put away his cock. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he offered me a smile.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I sat on my bed, directly across from him. Worried the conversation might get too heavy, I extended my foot and gave his a playful tap. 

"I shouldn't have done that here," I said, unable to meet his eyes. "I really did think you were asleep. And I want you to know that I'm..." Swallowing hard, I struggled to get the words out. "I'm not a slut."

"Hey." August nudged my foot until I looked up at him. His expression was serious as he regarded me. "I didn't mean anything by that, Dove. And I'm sorry I got carried away with the dirty talk. I was just excited by what you were doing."

Even though I'd orgasmed minutes before, his confession brought back that hot pulse between my thighs. Ducking my head, I tried to hide my smile behind my hair. "So you still think I'm a good girl?"

Part of me ached for him to lean forward and touch me. All he had to do was graze my knee, or tuck a curl behind my ear, and I'd be his. 

But August only said, "I think you're an angel, even when you're making yourself come."

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I simply sat in front of him, grinning like an idiot while the pleasurable warmth from his words washed over me. 

It was the chime of August's phone that made me snap my head up. All his playfulness vanished in an instant as he read the message. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

His eyes locked with mine. "The guy's agreed to meet me." Climbing to his feet, he added, "Now we just might be getting somewhere."