Road Signs

by MJ Fredrick

  But no, their key was ready, their room was ready—at triple the daily rate because of the storm. No wonder they had a vacancy. They’d also charged for two nights, which was their policy on phoned-in credit card orders. He would get the money back if they didn’t stay another night.

  “Isn’t that price gouging?” Cam asked the woman behind the desk.

  The woman shrugged. “Not my decision, and not like you have a choice.”

  He scowled and signed the credit card slip.

  He returned to the car and drove to the end of the courtyard. Their room was upstairs this time, but no one had bothered to salt the stairs. Cam prodded Willow forward, grasping the icy rail, ready to catch her if she fell back.

  Once they entered the room, they dropped their luggage with a sigh of relief. Willow scanned the dark upholstered room—very cheery, all this brown—before she flopped onto the center of the king-sized bed and he crossed to the phone. Dial tone. Good. He needed his limit raised.

  Willow slipped into the bathroom to give him privacy to call the credit card company.

  It took some finagling, but they finally raised his limit and promised to look into the price-gouging concern. He hung up, relieved he had more resources now.

  Willow walked out of the bathroom barefoot and opened her bag to dig for dry socks. “I’m going to wash some of my underwear and hang them in the bathroom. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  Not a problem if he wanted a state of permanent arousal. Yeah, he’d seen her underwear last night, the scraps of flowery cotton that did more to taunt than cover. It would definitely be a problem. But he couldn’t say so, so he shook his head.

  She ducked back into the bathroom with a handful of delicates.

  Part of him wanted to follow her and pin her to the wall, kiss her until her bones melted, until she wrapped herself around him and begged to get naked. But it would ruin everything. They still had at least two more days on this trip, and if he made a move and she rejected him—well, wouldn’t that be a cheery ride from here to Seattle?

  On the other hand…

  No, he had to stop thinking in circles. He found the remote in the nightstand drawer and flicked on the television. Fuzzy, just as he expected. And offering college football on two channels and the local news station’s weather report on the third. He picked up a cardboard tent advertising pay-per-view. Yeah, porn, just what he needed.

  Willow walked out of the bathroom and he tossed the advertisement aside. “You want me to wash your socks or anything?” she asked.

  Sure, he was going to hand her his smelly socks. How charming would that be? “I’m good.”

  She crossed the room toward him and he noticed the sway of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He choked back a groan and shifted his leg so she couldn’t see her effect on him. She curled up on the bed beside him, knees tucked in his direction, and reached for the remote in his hand. She was so easy with touching him, so unaware of her effect on him.

  Why wasn’t she worried? Why did it bother him that she wasn’t worried? He’d never made a move on her, true, but two people, alone in a motel room for hours with nothing to do but watch a fuzzy television…why did his thoughts go there and hers didn’t? Because he was a guy? Because she thought of him as a brother and nothing more?

  “Nothing good on,” he managed as she nestled her head on the pillow next to his shoulder.

  “We’re so spoiled with easy entertainment back home,” she murmured, flipping through the three channels before settling on the news.

  The scent of her wafted up to him, her shampoo, just a hint of musk from her layers of clothes. He scrambled off the bed, his back to her.

  “We should eat.”

  “Right. The sandwiches.” She pushed herself up. “I was starving before. Anxiety must have killed that.”

  He glanced over his shoulder as he unpacked the bag and bottles of water. “You want to wait?”

  “No, now’s as good a time as any to eat.”

  Willow frowned at his fidgety behavior and joined him at the small table. As she sat down, she noticed the telltale bulge in the front of his jeans. Oh. My.

  He seated himself quickly but the image was burned into her brain. Okay, maybe she’d thought about sex when she’d slipped off her bra to wash it out in the sink. But if she and Cam were going to hit the sheets that way, she wanted it to be for more of a reason than that they were bored in the middle of a blizzard. Because getting naked with Cam would change everything, even if he was moving across the country. They’d been friends for so long, she needed him in her life, needed his friendship. Would she have that after they made love?

  What if it was awful, if he was a terrible kisser or she was too uptight about making love to Cam to climax? God, that would be heartbreaking.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She snapped her head up to look into his eyes. “What? Why?”

  He gestured to her unopened sandwich. “You’re not eating.”

  Quietly she unwrapped her meal and stared at it a long moment before she picked it up to take a bite.

  She didn’t move back to the bed after dinner. Neither of them did. Instead, they hunched in the low-backed chairs and watched game shows, and the national evening news, and sitcom reruns, before one of the stations played It’s a Wonderful Life and another showed Christmas Vacation.

  Willow wanted to watch the comedy and Cam wanted the classic.

  “Rock paper scissors?” she ventured.

  He slanted a look at her. “Seriously, you’d choose Chevy Chase over Jimmy Stewart?”

  “I want to laugh, especially after today, not get jerked around on some emotional bungee.”

  “You want to see a cat get zapped and a tree go up in flames instead of a man discovering the importance of the choices he’s made in his life?”

  Cam’s tone was teasing, but something in his words were too truthful. “Okay, fine. I’m sure my movie will be on a million times between now and Christmas.”

  “Don’t you actually own it?”

  That he knew her so well made her blush. “Should I get you the Frank Capra collection for Christmas?” She climbed on the bed, her back against the headboard, and patted the mattress beside her.

  He hesitated, maybe thinking of his reaction last time they were on the bed together, then joined her a respectable distance away and changed the channel to his movie.

  “Wish we had popcorn,” she said, instead grabbing the bag of snacks they’d bought at the truck stop. She unwrapped a chocolate bar and offered him some.

  He took a portion. They ate and watched the movie in silence. Willow battled back the tears, not wanting him to tease her for being sentimental when she’d argued against this movie. But as the end of the movie rolled around, she lost, and let them flow down her cheeks, keeping her sniffles as quiet as she could.

  Of course Cam noticed and leaned over to offer her the rough tissues from the side of the bed. “Sucker.”

  “I hate you.”

  “So this is why you didn’t want to watch? You didn’t want me to see you cry?”

  She glared. “Maybe this is why you wanted to watch it, so you could see me cry,” she countered.

  “Oh, yeah. I love it when your eyes get all red and puffy and your nose starts to glow. Think we can find Rudolph on one of the channels? I’m suddenly in the mood for that show.” He tapped the end of her nose so she’d have no doubt about his reference.

  She scowled and grasped his wrist, barely able to wrap her fingers around it, and shoved it to the mattress by his hip. He retaliated by tapping her nose with his other hand. She grabbed that wrist too, and pinned it, as well. She felt his pulse pick up, saw something flash behind the playfulness in his brown eyes. The catch of his breath said he wanted to continue wrestling.

  Something about the moment incinerated her inhibitions. Or maybe holding on to his giant arms did that, feeling his pulse beneath her thumbs. Feeling as if he was at her mercy. />
  His gaze flicked to her breasts, her nipples pebbled against the knit of her sweater. Her own attention was drawn by his lips, curved now in a half smile. Daring her to kiss him. Her own pulse pounded so hard that she couldn’t think of anything but how he would taste, how his mouth would feel.

  Her cell phone beside the bed rang.

  She jumped away from him, releasing both wrists, and reached for the phone.

  “I can’t believe we have a signal,” she said with a forced laugh, her emotions pinging around like crazy, hitting longing and disappointment and relief, before she clicked to answer her mother’s call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Willow, I wired the money to Helena, like you asked me to.”

  “Yes, Mom, thanks, but here’s the problem. We can’t get to Helena for a while.” She crawled off the bed, needing distance from Cam, not daring to look at him, and leaned against the counter by the bathroom. Her body was tingling with what had almost happened, with what she’d wanted to happen…what would have happened if her mother hadn’t called. “We’re stuck in a storm in some tiny little town. We haven’t even had cell service all day. We may not even get to Helena until Monday. Is there any way you can have them send it to us here?”

  “Willow, I don’t know how to do that.” Brenda’s voice was shrill. “Or even where to send it there. Do they have a Western Union office?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out and call you back. It might not be on this phone, though.”

  As she hung up, she wondered if five hundred would be enough to get them to Seattle after this. Six hundred more miles—they could do that in a day, without stopping overnight, but that was at least four more tanks of gas, three more meals, and who knew what else could go wrong?

  His attention was on the local news on television, as if she hadn’t just almost kissed him. She still wanted to kiss him, still felt the strength of his arms against her palms, but she would have to do some maneuvering to get back in the same position. That wasn’t likely to happen.

  “I’m going to put on my pj’s and get in bed.” She crossed the room to her bag.

  He nodded, not turning his attention away from the news, where the weatherman was talking about the unseasonable storm. Duh. She pulled her sweats out and realized she’d washed all of her underwear. No clean ones remained. She’d just have to wear her sweats without them. That would not help her libido, not one bit.

  Heck, she hadn’t remembered she had a libido until this trip.

  Cam breathed a sigh of relief when Willow closed the bathroom door. Was the woman intent on driving him out of his mind? Okay, she’d noticed his erection earlier, and then wanted to wrestle with him on the bed. Was she testing his willpower, or did she really want to see where this relationship could go?

  He could talk to her about anything. Why couldn’t he talk to her about this? He hadn’t been with anyone since Laura, hadn’t wanted to open that part of himself and let those emotions out, until now. Willow was the only person he wanted to take the risk with, but the risk was too great, now that he’d made the choice to move to the other side of the country.

  Why hadn’t he acted before?

  She walked out of the bathroom and drew back the covers that he still lay upon. She slid beneath the blankets, her body curved toward him, hands folded on the pillow next to his hip. He got hard again. How was he going to sleep beside her without her being aware of his arousal? If he put pillows between them, that would send a message he didn’t want to send. No, he’d managed to sleep beside her before, with her in his arms, even, and she hadn’t been bothered by his reaction. He wouldn’t worry about it.

  Right.

  He tossed the remote to the mattress beside her and hopped off to go take a cold shower.

  He thought she was asleep when he returned to bed, but once he climbed in beside her, she nestled close, as though she’d been waiting for him. She drew her head back to look up at him.

  “You’re cold.”

  “Just had a shower.”

  “Don’t tell me this place doesn’t have hot water, either.”

  “It does.”

  She took his meaning too quickly and eased away. “Too much togetherness, huh?”

  “Something like that. And a drought on top of that. Self-imposed,” he added.

  “Maybe you’ll end it in Seattle?”

  He was probably imagining the high pitch of her voice, the tone of disappointment. He wanted to touch her, to stroke her hair, to reassure her that no woman would inspire the love that she did. Again he cursed himself for not telling her before. Too late now.

  “Maybe. Maybe I won’t make it in Seattle. They may not want me after all.”

  “Don’t be silly. They wouldn’t ask you to travel across the country if they didn’t see something amazing in you. They’d be idiots not to hire you.”

  She’d shifted closer again and he could feel her breath against his chest. Her voice had lowered sleepily, and all the good the cold shower had done fled. But she was asleep now, in his arms, soft and warm and sweet-smelling.

  He’d never sleep tonight.

  ***

  When the phone jolted Willow awake, her face was pressed against something firm. Cam’s chest. He grunted and she felt him reach for the phone—her cell, she recognized by the ring.

  “Hello?” he said gruffly.

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze as the person on the other end hesitated. Then she heard Jerry’s indignant voice.

  “Where’s Willow?”

  “Jerry, it’s the middle of the night.”

  Had Cam known who was calling when he answered? The information would have come up on the caller ID. She held out her hand for the phone but Cam turned onto his back, away from her, the phone still to his ear. She heard Jerry ask why Cam had her phone.

  “She’s asleep. Call her back in the morning.”

  “Why do you have her phone?” Jerry demanded, his voice rising.

  Willow sat up and pried the phone from Cam’s fingers. “Jerry, what do you need?”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Montana somewhere. There’s a blizzard. Why?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to come home for days. Why are you in Montana? Have you seen my emails? Gotten my voice mails?”

  “I saw the first two emails. I’ve made up my mind, Jerry.” She tossed back the covers to cross the room, as if that would get Cam’s attention off her, but the room was chilly. She shivered and tucked her feet back in bed.

  “Who answered the phone? The man who came to get you? Are you sleeping with him?”

  “It’s Cam. You’ve heard me talk about Cam. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” She glanced at the clock by the bed. It was two in the morning in Illinois. God, how obsessed was he? A tremor of alarm ran through her.

  “I’ve been worried about you and I knew you’d answer at night.”

  “Jerry, I don’t want to talk to you, especially not right now.”

  “Why are you in Montana? When are you coming home?”

  “It’s none of your business, Jerry. We’re over, all right? Please respect that. I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Are you sleeping with Cam?”

  She resisted the urge to let him suffer, but maybe if he knew the truth, he’d leave her alone. “I’m not having sex with him.”

  “Then why did you leave me?”

  “You aren’t who I thought you were. Jerry, you’re kind of freaking me out, okay? Please stop calling. This is over.”

  He called her some filthy names and she ended the call, shaking. Cam took the phone from her, set it on vibrate and placed it on his side of the bed.

  “You okay?” he asked, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

  She drew in a breath, folding her hands together around her knees. “Probably won’t be able to get back to sleep.”

  He turned to look at the phone. “Is there some way we can block his calls from coming through?”

  “
No. Doesn’t matter. The damage has been done.”

  “Sorry.” His hand was warm and reassuring against her back. “Want to watch some TV?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” She curled into him, her knees against his hip, her head against his shoulder. Safe.

  With one arm curved around her shoulders, he reached for the remote and flicked on the television, flipping through the three channels, two infomercials and an old sci-fi miniseries. He set the remote on her thigh and stroked his fingers through her hair.

  “Sorry this happened,” he said, his breath stirring her curls.

  “Not your fault I followed in my mother’s footsteps.” She shuddered. “I feel like an idiot for missing it, for only seeing what I wanted to see.”

  “That’s human.”

  “Maybe.” She curved her hand over the hard muscles of his waist. What else had she missed, only seeing what she wanted to see? “Even before Laura, you were careful about who you dated. I guess I should have followed your example.”

  “This was the first time since I’ve known you that you didn’t plan everything out.”

  “Should show me to let other people’s emotions influence me,” she muttered, fisting her hand on his hip, fighting the desire that made her want to lift her face, to invite his kiss, to bring his body over hers. Then she’d forget Jerry’s call and that she’d be saying goodbye to Cam soon. She’d forget that she needed to be careful with her feelings.

  She moved away, too aware of what the contact with his body made her want.

  She couldn’t trust what she wanted anymore. As if he understood—which he probably did, he knew her better than she knew herself most of the time—he let his hand fall away and he rolled onto his back with a sigh.

  Was he as disappointed as she was?

  Chapter Seven

  Willow woke slowly the next morning, the sheets beside her chilly. Cam wasn’t in bed. She lifted her head and squinted toward the window. She could see light around the edges. Sunlight? She sat up, tugging her thermal shirt down. Cam sat by the window, hand to his ear, shoulders hunched, talking on the phone in hushed tones.