Thank God.
“Blair!” Tori waves. She’s carrying a plastic container of food and comes over to put it on the counter.
By now, Marla has stopped whispering in Road’s ear and gives Tori a fake smile.
“Is that your black Escalade parked outside?” Tori asks her. “Because I think the headlights are on.”
“They are?” Marla’s face changes. “I’d better go check.” She turns to Road and tries to pull him along with her, but Lori has come into the kitchen telling Road he needs to go see the ‘Welcome Home’ cake they got him.
Once Marla’s gone, Tori lowers her voice, “God, she’s such a bitch. I hate her.”
“Were her car lights really on?”
“I don’t know.”
Blair laughs, and then wonders what happened to make Tori hate Marla so much. Tori can usually find the good in everyone.
“She’s been trying to take over Kiki’s entire wedding, constantly offering all this unsolicited advice. It’s driving everybody crazy.”
“Why would Marla be involved in the wedding?”
“She’s Austin’s older sister, and Kiki made her a bridesmaid.”
“I didn’t know that.” Austin is Kiki’s fiancé.
“Plus, I think she wants to get her hooks into Road.”
“What makes you say that?” Though, judging by the little show she just watched, Blair isn’t exactly surprised.
“Because she’s called me twice since she heard he was back in town, asking all sorts of questions about him. She’s going through an ugly divorce and is obviously looking for her next victim.”
“You don’t think Road would be interested in her again, do you?”
“I hope not.” But then Tori shakes her head. “No, he’s isn’t that dumb. Oh, that reminds me, I want to show you something.”
Blair follows Tori into the living room. There are people everywhere and the party appears to be in full swing. Without trying, she spots Road standing over by the large front window, her radar for him as highly tuned as ever. He’s surrounded by a group of guys, most of them muscular and covered with tattoos. They’re drinking beer and laughing with each other. She recognizes a few of them as his cousins. Brody sees her and waves. Blair waves back. A couple of women are there—including Marla, who’s eyeing Road like a spider lining up its next meal.
“Here it is,” Tori says. After searching through a pile of magazines on the coffee table, she finally finds what she’s looking for. Tori holds up a copy of The Literary Voice. “You have to read this.”
“Why?” Blair takes the magazine from her. She puts the beer to her lips for another sip.
“There’s an excerpt from Road’s book in it.”
“What?” Blair almost chokes on her beer. She stares at the magazine Tori just handed her.
Tori nods. “It’s really good. I want you to read it.”
Blair’s mind turns to chaos. She’s still staring at the magazine cover. “How did he manage this?”
“I don’t know. I think it was his media rep’s idea to submit it.”
“What?” Blair holds the magazine as if it contains a venomous snake. “Road has a media rep?”
Tori laughs at Blair’s reaction. “She approached him after his book started selling so well.”
Blair’s eyes flash over to Road, who’s nodding, engrossed in some conversation.
A beeping noise starts coming from Tori’s purse and she reaches inside to grab her phone, turning the beeping off. “I have to go check on a cat I’m watching tonight.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Tori works at a vet’s office part-time.
“No, that’s okay. She had surgery on her paw, and I’m just keeping an eye on her dressing. I’ll be right back. Read that article. Seriously.”
Blair looks down at the magazine in her hand.
“Oh, and I made vodka gummy bears! They’re in the fridge.”
After Tori leaves, Blair takes the magazine and her beer over to a corner chair. Judas Priest’s album British Steel is blasting on the stereo, and if it’s weird that she’s sitting in the corner reading a magazine at a crowded biker party, nobody seems to notice or care.
She takes another swig from her bottle then puts it down on the small side table. She opens the magazine and flips through the pages. It doesn’t take long to find the book excerpt.
Edge of Zen by Road Church.
Blair studies his byline. Despite what she’d said a few days ago about never wanting to read anything from him, she’s curious. An excitement hums through her, the excitement she always feels when she makes a new discovery about him. Her thirst for Road is unquenchable, the answer to the riddle of him always just out of reach.
She starts to read and discovers it’s a book excerpt about his time in India, right after he left her. It describes him trying to find his way in a foreign culture. Didn’t know I was a pilgrim until I turned toward the dawn . . .
Blair sits in the chair and reads non-stop for the next twenty minutes. She ignores her beer, ignores the people around her. The excerpt is ten pages long with an author bio and picture of him at the bottom of the last page. He looks meditative in the photo, his hair longer than it is now and pulled back into a shaggy ponytail. There’s some kind of Asian temple behind him. She stares at it for a long time.
When she’s finished, Blair shuts the magazine and takes a deep, cleansing breath, lets it out. She closes her eyes, and her head spins with amazement.
Holy shit. Road can write.
BLAIR STARTLES AT the metallic sound of a key sliding into her front door. Her eyes flash to the time on her computer screen. It’s almost noon.
Road didn’t come back from the party last night. She drove the Honda home alone because he said he’d catch a ride later, but he never showed.
Not that I care.
Quickly, she exits the browser where she was looking at Road’s blog. She was up most of the night reading Edge of Zen, which she downloaded onto her Kindle as soon as she came home. It’s a bestseller on Amazon with hundreds of rave reviews, and after reading it, she understands why. It’s a great book and hard to put down. His writing style is clean and eloquent, with just the right amount of self-deprecating humor. Spare, like his speech, not a lot of window dressing, but the people and places he described are as fresh and vivid on the page as if they were standing right in front of you. His laser focus is clearly turned on full-blast when he writes.
The first thing she did this morning was Google everything about him she could find. She’d never allowed herself to look him up on the web in all this time. Not even once. Her willpower was ironclad, so she had no idea of everything he’s been up to. It was quite a shock to discover how many items appeared when she Googled Road Church.
She found his blog right away, and it’s far more polished than what she’d imagined when Tori mentioned it to her. It’s way beyond some simple blog, but a huge website geared toward travelers and ex-patriots. There are tons of articles and photos about various places with links to information. There’s even a store attached. Quite an enterprise. And when she finds the ‘About Us,’ it says—
Nathan ‘Road’ Church: Founder, Managing Editor, and Contributor.
There were other people listed as well, and it dawns on Blair that Road has employees, that he’s a business owner just like herself. She stared at that page for a full five minutes, barely breathing.
Unbelievable.
The front door opens, and Blair pretends to be working on the computer as Road strolls over, his smoky scent wafting around her. She’s sitting on one of the tall kitchen chairs.
“Hey, princess.” He’s carrying a couple of Tupperware containers.
Blair glances up at him. “Hey.” She goes back to her computer, but can’t resist watching his backside as he takes the containers over to the fridge. That perfect ass. He’s wearing the same jeans from last night, but has a different shirt on today. A dark blue one that advertises Brod
y’s garage.
“What’s in those?” she asks.
He shoves both plastic containers onto the top shelf and Blair cringes. The top shelf is for bread items only.
“Leftovers from my mom’s. She insisted.”
“That was nice. Do you think you could move them to the bottom shelf?”
“Why?”
“That’s where leftovers go.”
He takes the containers from the top, squeezes them onto the bottom shelf, and closes the refrigerator.
She cringes again because he didn’t line them up right, but figures she’ll fix it later. “Thank you.”
Road turns back toward her. The front of his T-shirt is tucked in and she can see his brown leather belt with the brass buckle, along with the bulge of what’s below it.
She quickly looks away.
“You make it back okay last night?” he asks.
“Yes, obviously.”
He stands there, leaning against the counter, watching her as she pretends to work on her computer. He doesn’t say anything, and Blair finally looks up at him. His hair is damp and there’s blond stubble on his face. She wonders if he’s hungover, but then immediately rejects the notion. For all the partying that goes on at his mom’s house, Road’s never been much of a drinker. Except for that one night they were together, a few beers is the most she’s ever seen him down.
His sea-green gaze takes her in. He definitely doesn’t look hungover. The whites of his eyes are clear and bright, his skin unmarred. He looks relaxed standing there, too relaxed. And that’s when it hits her.
Road must have gotten laid last night.
Welcome home!
She hopes to God it wasn’t Marla. Please, don’t let it be Marla. But then, who would be acceptable? Who could Road sleep with where it wouldn’t bother her?
No one.
Blair grits her teeth and turns back to her computer. She hates this, hates this obsession. Wanting someone she can never have. The sick irony of being married to him. Married!
Road is still watching her. His laser focus hums like an electric power line. “Are you pissed about something?”
“No.”
“What have you been up to all morning?”
“Nothing.”
“You look seriously pissed, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He chuckles. “Now I know you’re pissed. Is it because I didn’t come back last night?”
“I don’t care what you do.” She moves her mouse around the computer screen aimlessly, pretending to be busy. “I don’t want you here in the first place.”
Reggae music blares from his phone and Road pulls it out of his front pocket but doesn’t answer it, just turns the music off.
“What are you doing today? Do you have plans?” he asks.
She doesn’t reply right away and wonders why he’s asking. “Not really.”
He gets a mischievous smile. “What do you say we take Isadora for a spin?”
Blair looks up. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Let’s go for a drive.”
“And who’s going to drive?”
“Me.”
“You’re going to drive Isadora?”
“Yeah.”
She shakes her head in amazement. “How stupid do you think I am? If I give you her keys, you’ll never give them back.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course not.”
Road chuckles. “I see. What can I do to earn your trust?”
“I don’t know. Sign her title over to me.”
There’s a flash of white as Road laughs with what sounds like approval. “Damn. You’ve grown a pair, that’s for sure.” His laughter quiets down. “Not going to happen, though. What else can I do?”
She throws him her haughtiest look. “Nothing.”
He mulls this over and after a long moment appears to come to a decision. “How about this—what if I promise to give the keys back to you?”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because I want to take my car out for a drive. Check out Seattle. I haven’t been back in over a year.”
Blair picks up her coffee and swirls the ice around with her straw.
“Look, I know how much time and money you’ve put into Isadora,” he says. “Brody told me all about it last night at the party, so let me experience her.”
Her eyes roam over him. She wonders who got to experience him last night, but decides not to go there. “You’ve already ‘experienced her.’ You drove her that day back from Tori’s house.”
“That was nothing. Just that one time doesn’t count.”
They’re still eyeing each other and Road’s expression is so earnest that, against her better judgment, she softens a little.
“Come on,” he says, lowering his voice, coaxing her. “It’s sunny outside. We’ll put the top down. It’ll be fun.”
Blair is tempted, and a part of her wants to go with Road, but then she comes to her senses. “No. You’ll never give the keys back.” The problem is she knows him, knows him better than he could ever imagine, and she knows if he gets those keys, it’s all over. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“I’m not.” His eyebrows go up and he looks genuinely surprised by her accusation. “Let me convince you. What can I offer you in exchange?”
Your body? It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it almost makes her smile. She wonders what he’d say if she put that on the table. Imagines his astonished face. He’d say no anyway.
“How about my wallet? It’s got my driver’s license, credit cards, everything. You can keep it in your purse while I drive.”
Blair imagines them spending the whole day together. The sweet torture of being with Road. And the selfish part of her, the part that’s always hungry for him, the part that’s wanted him her whole life is telling her to say yes, because this is it. This is all she’s going to get, and it’s better than nothing.
“All right,” she says, before the sensible part of her kicks in again. “Let’s go for a drive, but I want your wallet and your phone before I give you the keys.”
I hope I haven’t made a stupid mistake. They’re driving toward downtown Seattle. She’s worried because Road looks too happy. Too relaxed, cruising with the top down and the radio blasting.
His wallet and phone are both safely inside her purse and if he tries to keep Isadora’s keys, she’s not giving either of them back.
“So, where should we head to first, princess?” he asks, raising his voice above the music and the wind noise.
“That depends. What did you miss the most?”
He’s wearing black Ray-Bans, and his hands manage to look both strong and graceful on the steering wheel. He grins. “Everything.”
The radio is playing Pearl Jam’s “Alive”, and Blair thinks about Road’s book. All the people he’s met and the places he’s traveled. He’s become worldly these past five years, and she feels a peculiar envy.
“Why did you come back to Seattle?” she asks, curious. “Why now?”
Road’s eyes are steady in front of him as he drives. “It was just time to come home, is all. Take a breather.”
She thinks about how he’s like the character Larry from The Razor’s Edge. A traveler who’s come home wiser than he left. She almost tells him this, but then realizes he doesn’t know she’s been reading his book and his blog. Perversely, she doesn’t want him to know, either.
I’m not Isabel, though. The woman who loved Larry, but wouldn’t travel with him when he asked her, who refused to give up her cushy life. If Road had asked me, I would have gone with him anywhere.
Road drives around lower and upper Queen Anne a bit then heads over to Fremont. He compliments her on the car a few times, but doesn’t talk much beyond that.
Blair wishes she could think of something witty or insightful to say. In truth, she’s nervous. It annoys her, but she can’t help it. This whole thing almost feels
like a date. She even indulges in a fantasy, pretends they’re a real married couple out for a Sunday drive. Afterward, to be nice, she’d agree to go to a hardware store or an auto supply store. Then they’d go home and have the hottest sex ever. Nothing like that one horrible time. In her fantasies, Road is always hot and sensual in bed, and she’s never left dissatisfied.
“You hungry?”
Blair startles. “What?” She was imagining them back in the hallway again, except this time Road’s hands weren’t on the outside of her clothes, but the inside. His mouth was at her ear, his voice low and seductive, telling her all the naughty things he had planned for her.
“Do you want to grab a Dick’s burger?”
Blair looks around. They’ve already made their way up to Wallingford without her noticing. She sees Dick’s Drive-In up ahead. Road doesn’t wait for an answer, but turns off NE 45th Street and pulls Isadora right up to Dick’s, parking the car.
She tells him to get her a burger and fries and waits for him in Isadora, figuring they’ll take everything to a park or back to her condo to eat. When Road comes back and sits in the driver’s seat, though, he starts taking food out right away.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes widen in horror.
He digs around in the bag then hands her a burger. “I’m getting the grub out so we can eat.”
“We can’t eat in the car!” She tries to hand the burger back.
“Why not?”
“Because . . . ,” she sputters. “We just can’t!”
Road gives her a strange look. “We’re at Dick’s.” He ignores the burger she’s trying to hand back and starts handing her french fries now, too.
As if he were a small child, Blair patiently explains to Road how nobody is allowed to eat in Isadora. Ever. It’s an ironclad rule. No exceptions.
Road puts her fries on the armrest between them and Blair immediately snatches them up.
“Isadora is not just any car,” she explains. “I don’t want crumbs everywhere or,” God forbid, “grease stains. Plus, I don’t want her to smell bad and stink like food.”
By now, Road has his burger out and has opened his ketchup cup, dipping french fries into it.
“Are you even listening to me? Have you heard a single word I said?”
Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) Page 11
