Instead of answering him, I flip on the brights, illuminating the falling snow better than ever, but nothing else.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
I turn off the brights again, snow still the only thing visible other than the occasional mile marker and roadside reflectors.
“So you want me to distract you?”
I lift my shoulders, though that seems impossible since they’re practically glued to the sides of my head, then let them drop. Which feels better. I sit up straighter and tilt my head from side to side. “Yeah. Kinda. I mean, not so much that I drive off the road. But keep me from freaking out, yeah, and help me figure out when the road is curving so we stay on it.”
“Got it.” But then he doesn’t say anything.
I arch an eyebrow, but can’t turn it in his direction.
“How about a game?”
“A game?”
“We could play Never Have I Ever.”
“Isn’t that a drinking game? What do we do if we’ve done whatever it is?”
He leans closer to me and points out the windshield. “That reflector is to the left of the one before it. The road curves here.”
I glance at his strong jaw so close to mine, his elbow on the console between us. “Good catch. Thanks.”
“Sure.” He sits back in his seat. “Okay, fine, we’ll save Never Have I Ever for another time.” I snort, and he grins. “How about Two Truths and a Lie?”
Chapter Ten
Brendan
I don’t know what I was thinking suggesting stupid games like Never Have I Ever and Two Truths and a Lie. Because it doesn’t take long to tell that while Lauren might want to be distracted from her internal freakout, she can’t spare enough attention to play any kind of game.
We only make it through a couple of turns before it all breaks down. I throw out two totally obvious truths and a completely off the wall lie, trying to make it easy on her. “I used to be in a famous band, my older brother just got married, and I hate everything to do with music.”
She furrows her brow and bites her lip in concentration, the muffled feeling of the rumble strip under my ass going away for a second before she finds it again, navigating yet another curve. “Uh, the first one?”
I half laugh and half groan. “Do you remember what the first one was?”
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. “Sorry. Not a clue.”
Tension radiates from every line of her body. I want to run my hand down her back to help her relax, but that would probably startle her and send her driving off a cliff, so I stay firmly on my side of the car. Maybe when we stop I can offer to rub her shoulders.
She flexes her fingers around the steering wheel, adjusting her grip. “Can we listen to music or something?”
“That I can do.” I pick up my phone from the holder and start one of my favorite playlists, the driving beat pulsing through the car.
Her nose wrinkles, and it’d be cute if it didn’t mean she’s not happy with my mix.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Liar. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head again then drops her shoulders and tilts her head from side to side. I want to run my hand over the expanse of skin she reveals, rub the tension from the muscles, maybe drop a kiss just … there, right above her collarbone. And another one below her ear.
“It’s just …” She sighs, and a flash of me making her sigh in a totally different way lights up my brain. I’m so distracted by the image that her next words don’t make any sense at first.
“Can you maybe put on something less … pounding?”
Pounding? I have to derail that train of thought immediately, because the Lauren in my fantasy has no objection to pounding.
Oh my god, I need to stop. A day in the car, and I’m already under her spell.
“Brendan? Can you change the music please? I liked what you played before. And it’s not that I don’t like this, I’m just tired and my head hurts, and this isn’t helping.”
I clear my throat and reach for my phone. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. No problem.”
My mellower playlist seems to do the trick, because she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t say anything, actually, concentrating on staying on the road. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see a sign that proclaims Rifle is only four miles away. A billboard advertises a Holiday Inn. And another one boasts about Walmart’s ever falling prices.
I’ve never been so relieved to find cheap American chains as I am right now.
“Can we hit the Walmart first so I can get a coat?”
Lauren gets more tense, which I didn’t think was possible.
“I’ll drive the rest of the way to the hotel after that. It’s not that much farther.”
“Oh? And what hotel is this? Did you make reservations with the power of your mind?”
I snort. There’s the Lauren I’ve gotten to know. “No. But I figured I’d call the Holiday Inn. They probably have a pool or at least a hot tub. We could relax before turning in for the night.”
She lets out another sigh that makes me think bad, bad things. “That sounds like heaven.”
“Did you bring a suit?” More bad ideas. I don’t need to picture this girl in a bathing suit. Maybe she wears one of those old fashioned swimming costumes that look like dresses and cover you from neck to ankle.
Ha. Right.
But she shakes her head. “No. I didn’t think to pack one. And I didn’t have time to go swimming at the resort, anyway.”
Great. Lauren without a swimsuit makes more X-rated thoughts run through my head. Stop it, brain. Stop it.
I mean, I know it’s tradition to bang the single bridesmaids as a member of the wedding party or whatever, but this is a no-fly zone. Bad, bad, bad idea. And that’s just from what’d happen if Gabby found out and got upset. Which she would, because Lauren would be upset. Because girls always get upset.
Unless …
Lauren’s a man-eater. She’d know the score. We could both go our separate ways after our fun little frolic of a trip.
That’s assuming she’s even interested. Which at this point is highly unlikely. She’s exhausted and stressed and her muscles are in knots. She doesn’t need a night of sweaty, meaningless sex. She needs a massage and a good night’s sleep.
Following the signs through the snow that’s starting to let up a little, Lauren navigates to the Walmart Supercenter. Once she turns off the car, she lets her head fall back against the headrest and lifts her hand holding the keys in my direction.
I take them from her almost limp fingers. “You alright?”
She turns her head to me, a baleful glare on her face. “No. That was three hours of the most hellacious driving I’ve ever experienced. In a car that’s not mine. On highways I’ve never driven. In the mountains. In the dark. I am definitely not okay.”
Reaching across the center console, I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “You did awesome. If I have to ride in a car in the dark in the mountains in a driving snowstorm, you’re the person I’d want behind the wheel.”
Her eyes narrow even more, her mouth pinched. Then her face relaxes, and her head gives a wiggle that I think is on purpose. Like she’s trying to shake her head, but she’s too tired to do it right. “I can’t even tell if you’re being serious right now or if you’re just an ass.”
With a chuckle, I pull my hand back. “I have it on good authority that I’m an ass, but I’m also serious. Take it for what it’s worth.” I glance out the window where the snow is still falling, big flakes picked out by the street lights in the nearly empty parking lot. It’s let up, for sure. I mean, I can see the building fifty feet away, which is better than how it was about a half an hour ago. And the wind isn’t quite as gusty here. When I turn back to Lauren, she’s picked her head up off the headrest and is flexing her fingers. “So, I’m going to make a run for it, because as we’ve discussed, I have no coat, and a T-shirt isn’t adequate protection agai
nst freezing temperatures.”
She grins at me. “You always talk like that?”
“Yes. When I talk, that’s how I talk. At least when I’m discussing plans. So I’m running. I’ll wait for you inside.” With that, I push open the door and start sprinting.
What I don’t account for is what snow does to the ground. And how the tread on designer sneakers isn’t made for traction anywhere, much less when sprinting across snow covered ground.
I make it maybe ten feet before my feet slip out from under me, my arms pinwheel wildly, and down I go.
Lauren’s laughter rings out in the still night. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
I let out a groan, partly for dramatic effect, partly because dammit, that really fucking hurt. Gingerly, I pick myself up, wanting to get off the icy ground that’s seeping through my jeans the longer I sit here, but not wanting to fall on my ass again. I landed mostly on my left cheek, so I think my tailbone’s okay.
Shuffling her feet, Lauren makes her way over to me, bundled up in a puffy green coat, one hand covering her mouth. When she reaches me, she stops and looks me over, bending to get a look at my ass. “That looked like it hurt.”
I brush off the snow still sticking to me that hasn’t melted yet, a shiver running through me. “Yeah, well, it didn’t feel great.”
“Can you walk?”
I nod. When she takes my hand, I shoot her a surprised look, but she just smiles encouragingly. “Take small steps, dude. Shuffle over the icy parts more than you step so it’s a controlled slide. If you do it on purpose, you’re less likely to fall on your ass.” The again remains unspoken, but I hear it anyway.
Without a word, I follow her advice, taking tiny, shuffling steps, and we make it the rest of the way across the parking lot. The automatic doors whoosh open, admitting us to heaven. Because it’s above freezing in here.
Instead of letting go of my hand, Lauren keeps it, tugging me forward. “Come on. We need to find you a coat and me a swimsuit. Since it’s a Supercenter, let’s grab something to eat too. Too bad the Subway’s closed. I could use more than ready-to-eat packaged stuff, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Chapter Eleven
Lauren
Brendan follows me through Walmart like a puppy dog. When we pass the shoe section, I screech to a halt. “Boots.”
“Sneakers.”
I turn and give him a confused look. “What?”
He grins and sticks his hands in his pockets. I held his hand for a minute after we got inside, but then I realized that we were holding hands, and not just in the here let me help you across the icy parking lot since you clearly don’t know how to do it right kind of way. At some point, he threaded his fingers through mine.
When I realized it, I gently extracted my hand from his, spurred by the memory of his declaration that I’m a hopeless flirt burning in my chest. I don’t want him to think certain things are on the table when they’re not.
He didn’t react in any way when I pulled my hand away, so I didn’t say anything. It’s … weird. And I don’t know what to think about any of it.
So I don’t, instead focusing on the task at hand—shopping for a coat and a swimsuit and getting some food.
And now, boots for Brendan.
“You shouted ‘boots,’ so I said sneakers. I thought we were naming footwear. Should I continue? Galoshes. Mukluks. Flip-flops.”
I burst out laughing. “What do you know about mukluks?”
His grin spreads wider. “I know it’s fun to say.”
“That’s true. But no, I wasn’t just naming footwear. You need boots.”
He looks down at his feet, picking one up and turning it sideways. “What’s wrong with my shoes? These are kickass shoes.”
I head down the aisle with men’s shoes. “Sure. They’re awesome. Especially great for slipping on the ice in a parking lot. You definitely don’t want anything warmer. Or with better traction. Because it’s not like we’re traveling farther north. Y’know. Where it snows. And there’s ice.” I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Silly me. Whatever was I thinking?”
A glance at him shows narrowed eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious.”
I give him a dazzling grin. Or what I like to think is a dazzling grin. “I know.” I reach over and pat him on the chest, but instantly regret it. Because he has a really nice chest, and patting it makes me want to explore it more. And that is definitely out of the question. I force myself to drop my hand normally, not like I just burned myself on his pec. “Pay attention and you might pick up a few tips on how to be funny, too.”
His lips twitch. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime.” I turn back to the boots display. “What size shoe do you wear? Let’s find you something to wear for the rest of the trip.”
He eyes the boots, disdain edging out the amusement in his face. “Really? These?”
Before he can finish whining about the paltry boot selection, I whirl to face him, hands on hips. “Are you freaking kidding me right now? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of BFE, Colorado in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s after ten p.m. This store is open. We are here, at this store. This store has boots. What would you prefer, waiting till we get to New York so you can go to a custom bootmaker and special order a pair of snow boots?”
I wait a beat while he drops his head, his hands burrowing further into his pockets, looking every inch a chastened little boy. But I think he mutters, “Yes.”
“Oh my god.” I throw my hands in the air and roll my eyes. “Fine. We’ll do that too. In the meantime, find a pair that fits and get them. Or don’t. Get frostbite on your feet for all I care. Or your ass, since you’ll be spending a lot of time sitting on it on the ice. I don’t give a shit. I’m going to find the swimwear.”
Fuming, I leave him to come to terms with his life choices regarding shoes and march to the women’s section, where I find one measly rack of swimsuits. There aren’t many options, and most of them don’t look big enough to contain my chest.
I pick up the most likely option, featuring hot pink flowers on a bright aqua background with neon yellow accents. It’s the kind of Hawaiian print that gives Hawaiian prints a bad name. With a sigh, I find the fitting room just to make sure I won’t be in imminent danger of flashing Brendan and everyone else while wearing it.
Once it’s on, I spend a little time tugging my boobs this way and that, then the triangles of fabric. Finally I just shrug and shake my head. My nips are covered. That’s what matters. Right? Right.
I’m so tired, I’ll probably just crash once we get to the hotel. Hot tub, shmot tub. I’ll be fine without it.
Except my shoulders are so stiff from driving with them up around my ears for hours that they protest the simple act of putting my shirt back on. Maybe I should get some ibuprofen while we’re here.
After I have my clothes back on, I grab the swimsuit and head for the pharmacy section to grab a bottle. Then I head to the food section to see what looks appealing.
Brendan finds me there, a pair of boots in one hand and a coat draped over his arm. “Hey.”
I lift my chin. “I see you took my advice on the boots.”
He shifts the boots to the other hand. “You made a good point.”
With a hum of agreement, I turn back to the ready-made dinner choices before me. “You think the hotel will have a microwave in the room?”
Pulling out his phone, he says, “Hang on. I’ll check.” After tapping the screen a few times and swiping with his thumb, he smiles. “Yup. Microwave and mini fridge. We’re living the high life now.”
I laugh, which makes him say, “Finally.”
“What?”
He shakes his head. “After you ripped me a new asshole about the boots, I wasn’t sure if you were still pissed.”
I give him another arched eyebrow. “Who says I’m not?”
“You laugh a lot when you’re pissed at someone?�
�
I pretend to think hard, but finally shake my head. “No. Not really.”
He nods at the shelves and holds the phone to his ear. “Pick out what you want. I’m going to grab a cart while I make sure there’s a room available for us.”
Chapter Twelve
Brendan
Lauren gives me serious side-eye as I check us into our room. The tired clerk doesn’t seem to notice. Or doesn’t care as she passes me the room keys and explains about the free breakfast and everything.
“Is the hot tub still open?”
“Till eleven thirty.” A dutiful smile crosses her face. “Enjoy your stay, sir.”
“Thanks.”
I grab the handle on my rolling suitcase and take one of the shopping bags from Lauren, leading the way to the elevator.
Once we’ve gotten on, she gives me her patented eyebrow arch. “One room, huh?”
“It’s all they had.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You wanna go back down and ask? I swear to god, Lauren. They had this one king-size room available. I’m not trying to pull anything.”
Her lips purse and her eyes cut to the side. “Okay.”
I clench my jaw, wanting to keep pushing my point, give her a little shake, something to make her believe me. But she’s not arguing. Just giving me bland acceptance like it’s too much trouble to bother contradicting me.
Like I’d willingly hole myself up in a hotel room with her. She drives me freaking crazy.
Although, I did willingly hole myself up in my car with her for a prolonged road trip …
Not the same. There’s no bed in my car, for one thing.
No temptation.
Thankfully the elevator dings, and we offload into the hallway, trying to be quiet since it’s already almost eleven. Once inside, I roll my suitcase to the end of the bed and dump the shopping bag on top of it. “If we’re going to do the hot tub, we should hurry up and change.”
Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6) Page 5
