The hand on my waist slid to my back, pulling me closer. Only inches separated us. “I’m watching you, Parker.”
I tried to look around, but he was all I saw.
“Just me and you, Parker. You see me, I see you. Who cares about anyone else?”
It was hard to care about anything other than his body against mine, his lips inches from mine. He pulled the hand holding mine closer to our bodies, making the dance more intimate. He brought his cheek to lay against mine, to lay next to the scar, and I breathed relief. His lips were at my ear.
“Your hair smells good.”
I couldn’t help it, I rubbed my face against his a little, relishing in the bite of his facial hair. “Soap.”
I felt his answering smile against my cheek. We swayed through one, two, three songs. I wasn’t sure. My eyes had closed somewhere halfway into the first song and I forgot about being insecure. I forgot about everything, but the way Everett’s legs moved against mine, the way his finger rubbed against my lower back. I was feeling the most delicious ache. Enjoying the way we existed on this tiny dance floor, but knowing I wanted to continue exploring our sexual attraction to one another.
I heard Everett whisper something against my ear, but didn’t quite catch the words. “Hmm?” I asked, lost in the feel of his arms around me.
“Food’s ready.”
“Oh.” I pulled back, breaking the spell I’d been under. Everett looked at me with an eyebrow raised but I ducked around him and walked back to the table. I slid into my chair and immediately started eating, not bothering to look up at Everett.
After a few minutes he asked, “Are you even chewing?”
I stopped mid-chew and looked up at him. I slowly chewed the rest of the bite and swallowed. “Yes. But I’m hungry.” I was defensive. Embarrassed.
“Nothing wrong with that, but you’re shoveling food in so fast that I think you’re trying to avoid conversation.”
It was true. The more food I shoved in my mouth, the less chance I had to engage in any conversation with Everett. He made me feel so many things, uncomfortable things. But at the same time, I was oddly drawn to feeling how he made me feel. It was confusing and scary and also exhilarating.
So I didn’t acknowledge what he said. Instead, I took another bite and slowly chewed, sipping my water and keeping my eyes trained to my plate.
“Red or blue?” he asked. I looked at him, confusion in my eyes. “If you had to choose a color, red or blue?”
“Choose a color for what?”
“Don’t make this complicated. Just say the first thing you think.”
“Red.”
Everett nodded, as if he expected that answer. “Cats or dogs.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Cats.”
Everett sighed and sat back in his chair. “Well now I know for sure I won’t fall in love with you.”
“Dogs are needy. Cats aren’t.”
“Dogs are good companions. Cats are self-centered,” he argued.
“I would have thought you’d have identified better with cats then,” I said before sipping my water.
He narrowed his eyes but seemed to enjoy the verbal game we were playing. “Okay, moving on. Cold or hot.”
“Hot.”
Everett shook his head. “That can’t be true. You’re ten below. Cold as ice.”
I eyed him with annoyance. It was on the tip of my tongue to call him my favorite word for him, but he beat me to it.
“Let me guess, you want to call me an asshole, don’t you?” He cut into his steak and studied the slice before looking at me again. “I’m surprised you don’t just call me that all the time. Forget calling me Everett.”
“Maybe we should add it to the rules,” I replied thoughtfully, as if mulling it over.
“Technically, I did write it down, but you crossed it out.”
I set my jaw in a firm line. “Why do you like riling me up so much?”
Everett finished the last bite of steak and chewed it for a minute, his fingers playing on the tablecloth. When he swallowed, he lifted his eyes to mine again. “Because.”
If my jaw could have fallen from my face, it would have right then. “Really?” I asked, incredulous. “All that suspense for that answer?”
“Do you want to add full disclosure to the rules, Parker?”
That shut me up. I shook my head and finished my meal, just as Everett handed his credit card to the waiter passing by.
Everett pulled out his phone and tapped something on the screen. I watched him for several minutes, even after the waiter returned with the check. And then I stood up and walked out.
“Rude asshole,” I muttered under my breath as I stood on the sidewalk. Throngs of people passed me, some of them bumping into me in their inattentiveness. I crossed my arms over my chest as I looked around for a cab.
A moment later, I felt his chest against my back. Involuntarily, I sank back into his chest. I couldn’t help it, I was relieved he’d come out after me. But a moment later, I remembered why I’d walked away. I turned around and stared daggers at him. “You,” I said, lifting a finger to push into his chest, “are so…rude. I don’t care if I’ve said it one hundred times. If anything, that should show you just how rude you are.”
“I’m not sorry.”
I gritted my teeth. “It’s disrespectful to ignore my company while you concentrate on your phone.”
“It’s disrespectful to stuff your face nearly to the point of choking just to avoid speaking with me,” he countered. “And yet,” he brushed a hand over my shoulder, down my arm. “You still did.”
I watched his arm progress down to my wrist. I became oblivious to the sights and smells around us. It was just Everett. He had a way of making the rest of the world fall off, as if he was the only thing I saw clearly.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked.
“I left it back at the hotel.”
He frowned. “Why?”
I shifted in my heels, growing uncomfortable standing in them on the concrete. “Only a couple people contact me regularly. And two of them only contact me for a favor. The other happens to be an asshole and is currently crowding my space-which, if you remember, is against the rules.”
Everett moved closer. Our legs, our hips, our chests-all touching. “I’m not giving you space when we’re in a public. If you want space once we get back to the hotel, fine. But if I gave you space here, that would be violating my rule.”
“Which one?”
“The seatbelt rule is more or less a blanket rule. In any situation that I feel could potentially be dangerous, we will both exercise safety.” He looked up the sidewalk, noting the inebriated patrons making fools of themselves. “This is not a situation in which I’ll give you space.”
I could live with that. I’d been so focused on Everett, I hadn’t paid attention to my surroundings. That was unusual for me. Come to think of it, I had even left my knife behind at the hotel room. I shuddered involuntarily.
I ran my hands over my utter arms. “You’re a bad influence,” I muttered.
“I hope so.” His grin was wide, as if he was very pleased with himself. “Hotel or club?”
“Hotel.” I said it quickly. I didn’t need to give any thought to it. And then I had a gut punch of guilt. “But if you want to go out, I can go back by myself.”
“Yeah right,” Everett said, grabbing my upper arm gently, steering me down the sidewalk.
“Did you come all the way to Vegas to not experience the nightlife?”
“All the way to Vegas?” he asked, dubiously. “Vegas was more or less a pit stop. And besides, I came here for the steak.”
“Did you find your one sweet moment with the steak?”
Everett looked at me impatiently. “What do you think?”
I shut my mouth as we walked back to the hotel.
When we walked back into the suite, I immediately walked into my bedroom and closed the door, locking it for good measure. I needed my space. I
didn’t want to fall into Everett’s bed and let it become a habit. Habits were hard to break. And I didn’t want to rely on anyone for a fix.
I slid out of the dress and heels, tugging on Everett’s shirt from before. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of my phone’s notification.
I picked it up and turned it on, noticing six text messages in a row, all from the same sender.
Everett: You’re right, I do enjoy riling you up. But if I tell you why, you’ll run. And I’m enjoying my dinner too much to abandon it.
My breath caught. He’d been sending these at the table when he picked up his phone and ignored me.
Everett: So I’ll tell you via text instead.
Everett: I like seeing color flush your cheeks. When you’re angry, your cheeks burn bright.
Everett: I like seeing you feel something, even if it’s animosity.
Everett: It humanizes you. You’re so cold, I didn’t think you had any warmth in you.
Everett: But with your pink cheeks, I’d say you’re closer to five below zero now.
The last text did just what he’d set out to do-it made me angry. Angry enough that I stood up and walked towards the door, intending to give him a piece of my mind. But then I realized that would be just what he wanted. So I stopped, my footsteps stalling on the carpet in front of my door. I looked back at the bed, where I’d tossed the phone in anger. And I strode back to it with purpose in my stride.
Me: I’m changing your name in my phone to read “Asshole.”
A minute later my phone chirped.
Asshole: At least you’re keeping me in your phone.
And I was pissed off all over again.
We were on the road early the next morning. This time, Everett told me where we were headed.
“The Grand Canyon,” he’d said, turning up the music and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Good,” I’d replied, still clinging to the remnants of annoyance from the night before. “I can throw you off a cliff.”
He’d just grinned and slid his sunglasses on, happily singing along to the song on the radio.
Three hours into the drive, Everett pulled off at a gas station. While pumping gas, with my credit card this time, he received a phone call and walked away from the pump.
I took over the pump and tried discreetly watching him walk away. He had the phone pushed against one ear and a finger plugging up the other. We were at a large truck stop, so there was enough noise to make it hard to hear what he was saying.
At one point he unplugged his ear to wave it in the air. Whomever he was speaking with was frustrating him, it was clear by how he ran his hand through his hair, how he kicked at the dirt at his feet, and how he hung his head near the end of the call. People-watching had never bothered me, even when I’d been witnessing the most personal moments of someone’s life. But watching Everett struggling with whoever was on the other end felt like a major invasion of privacy.
I tore my eyes away and finished pumping. Noticing he was still on the phone, I went into the gas station and grabbed a fountain soda, intending to fill it with limes as soon as I returned to the vehicle. As I was ringing up my drink, I saw Everett get back into the vehicle and rest his forehead on the steering wheel. Something tugged within me then. So I grabbed a large coffee with just cream and returned to the car.
I opened up the passenger door, set the drinks in the center console, and then went to the backseat and grabbed a handful of limes from the cooler. When I returned to the front seat, Everett had collected himself. He was eyeing the coffee. I slid cautiously into the seat and opened up my soda, dropping in the limes.
“Is this for me?” he asked, confusion on his face.
“I hate coffee,” I said without really answering him.
He picked it up and looked at it with suspicion.
“I didn’t poison it.” I rolled my eyes. “You are, after all, driving us. I’m not an idiot.”
“You put creamer in it,” he said, peering into the cup from the mouthpiece.
I buckled my seatbelt. “Yes.”
“Thanks,” he said and leaned towards me.
Instinctively, I backed up. It was so quick that my head bumped the window and I winced. Had he been leaning in to kiss me? And that was my first instinct? To move away?
Everett looked confused. “Sorry,” he said shaking his head. “I don’t know why I did that.”
The words stung. They shouldn’t have, given my reaction, but they did. Tiny little pinpricks in my chest. I nodded and grabbed my soda like it was a lifeline, sipping from it and keeping my eyes trained ahead.
I saw Everett take a sip of his coffee out of my peripheral vision. “Thanks, Parker.”
I didn’t like this Everett. This polite, thankful, impersonal Everett. It felt unnatural, like I was traveling with a stranger.
I shrugged. “No big deal. You paid for dinner last night,” I reminded him. Though a steak dinner at a fancy restaurant wasn’t exactly on the same playing field as a gas station coffee.
“Right,” he said, distractedly. My skin itched. Where did this weird Everett come from?
A few moments later, he pulled back on the road. This time he kept the sunglasses on, but turned the music off. I didn’t realize how much I missed the music until we were starting to see signs indicating we were closer to the Grand Canyon.
“Have you been here before?” I asked. It was unusual, no-it was an anomaly-that I would initiate small talk. But Everett had been brooding, distracted, the entire three hours since we’d left the gas station. It was making me incredibly uncomfortable. I needed to do something.
“No,” he said. Usually, Everett said one-word sentences like they were packed with desire, or venom. This one word was short. Indifferent.
“So…does that mean this visit is popping your cherry?”
There was silence for a second. And then the side of his mouth lifted up subtly. So subtly, I nearly missed it. And then he turned his eyes to me for a moment. “You want to pop my cherry, Parker?”
I bit my lip. The way he’d spoken it was normal Everett. His voice was rich, a little gravelly. Sexy. I nodded. A smile tugged at my lips. Apart from the laugh I’d had earlier, the one Everett had likened to the sound of an animal dying, I hadn’t smiled. But I wanted to.
Everett sighed, as if releasing the tension that had held onto his muscles for the last three hours. He followed the signs to the entrance of the Grand Canyon and pulled into the parking area.
“Ready to pop my cherry, Parker?”
I slid out of the car and walked around, following him to an overlook.
It was my first time at the Grand Canyon. Growing up a foster kid didn’t usually include any sort of vacation. This road trip with Everett was me reliving a missed childhood.
The Grand Canyon was, in a word, spectacular. It was filled with color, and ridges and edges. There were colors painted in the rock, reds and browns and yellows. The park was mostly empty aside from a few tourists, so we were able to enjoy the view without a crowd. Everett turned and looked to me. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes lit up. Whatever had haunted him before all but disappeared, leaving his face relaxed.
I watched his face. His eyes were closed, the lines around his eyes had settled. The sun washed over his face, warming it. I watched him for another minute before turning to look back at the view.
“It’s okay, I guess. A big hole in the ground.” It wasn’t how I really felt, but it was what I said. The words tasted sour to me, but to Everett they were hilarious. He couldn’t stop laughing. I turned and looked at him again.
“Just ‘a big hole in the ground’?” he asked. “You’re hard to impress.”
“What do you want me to say? Oh look, rocks and stuff.”
Before I knew it, Everett was walking towards me. “Ready?” he asked.
I looked at him with a question on my face. “What?”
Everett moved behind me and placed his hands o
n either side of mine on the railing. “Want to visit our next attraction?” he asked, his voice at my ear.
“What is it?” I asked, holding my breath. The warmth of his chest to my back was soothing in the cool morning air.
“A ghost town. Four hours away.”
“More driving?” I asked.
“Last stop of the day.”
I nodded. “Okay. You don’t want to see more of the Canyon?”
Everett shook his head. “It’s just a big hole in the ground, isn’t it?” His words were teasing.
I shrugged. “Yeah, basically. I just figured you’d have wanted to see more of it.”
“I want to make it to the east coast.” He stopped, didn’t finish saying what was on the tip of his tongue. He was a time bomb, prepared to go off at any time. And he wanted to get as much in as possible before the east coast.
“Anything in particular you want to see on the east coast?”
“Yes.” He knew I was intrigued, and teased me by not continuing his sentence.
“Okay, let’s go.”
His arms moved from the railing to wrap around my waist. I stood still, a statue in his arms. He brought his face to my neck and nuzzled. “Mmm,” he murmured, the vibration against my skin tickling my skin. “You smell good.”
“I don’t smell like you.”
“No,” he said on a sigh. “You smell like you.”
I wriggled out of his arms, uncomfortable with the affection. Sex was one thing. It was explosive. This was intimacy and I was not ready for it.
“Let’s go,” I said again, walking towards the car.
“Hey Parker?” he asked. I turned my head to look at him. “Do you love me yet?”
It was very hard to not roll my eyes. “Definitely not.”
On the drive south, Everett was his normal happy self. It relieved and annoyed me. He bounced along to the music on the steering wheel, singing loudly along with the lyrics. That part was immensely annoying.
I kept looking over at him, watching him bounce his head back and forth to the music. He was wearing black shorts and a navy blue tee. It was the closest to black he could get, and a shirt he’d had to pick up at a department store before we left Las Vegas. I’d helped him grab a bunch of colored tees and a few plaid cargo shorts. He’d eyed with me annoyance then, so this was likely my payback now. I cleared my throat and he finally looked over at me.
Ten Below Zero Page 12
