by Raquel Belle
“You, too,” I say.
“Let me know when you’re coming back and I’ll have something better planned. If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe flight.”
“Thanks.”
We part ways, and all the talk about leaving reminds me I’m not done packing yet. I’m super glad I don’t run into Mom on my way in, and I head straight for the bedroom and pick up my bag.
I’m walking around the room, picking up stuff I think I’ll forget, when my phone starts to ring again.
This time, it’s Trip, and I fall onto the bed and answer. “About time you remembered me.”
“Busy day, baby. But I have something you might like.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Why don’t you come outside and find out,” he says, suggestively, and hangs up before I can even ask anything else.
I get up and hurry back outside. He’s still sitting in his truck and he gets out when I approach. I fold my arms and look him in the eyes. “So, what’s the big surprise?”
He grins. “I have a little trip planned.”
“Again?” I say, dramatically. “When will this end?”
He laughs hard. “Never. I want to make it a habit of treating you like a queen.”
“Hmm, well, you only have three days to pack it all in before I leave.”
He doesn’t respond to that statement. Instead, he asks, “Are you going to get into the truck?”
“Maybe… You want to tell me where we’re going this time?”
“Okay, that’s it,” he says, and walks right up to me, picks me up, and throws me over his shoulder. “You’re coming one way or another.”
I’m laughing and kicking my legs as he takes me back to the truck. “This is grossly unfair.” I hammer baby punches on his back.
“That’s what stubbornness will get you,” he says, and opens the door and deposits me inside. He closes the door and leans so close to my face that I can feel his breath on my skin. “Don’t you know, Jazz, I always get what I want?”
And the way he says it makes me wet between my legs.
Chapter Eighteen
Trip
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going this time?” Jazz asks, as she turns towards me.
I grin and tap her chin. “Fine. I’m taking you to the salt cave.”
She groans. “Ugh! Again, with that salt cave thing?”
“Every tourist should go, and with only three days left here, well, now is as good a time as any.”
She laughs. “I’m not a tourist, and I told you, I’m not so good in small, dark spaces.” She straightens in her seat.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you just in case the boogeyman shows up.”
“Ha, very funny, I get claustrophobic, or have you forgotten?”
“Nah, I haven’t. I just like taking you to small, dark places, so you’ll cling tighter to me.”
She slaps me on the arm and laughs. “I knew there was a maniacal plan in there somewhere. I should just change my mind and go back home.”
“You won’t,” I say, confidently.
“Why not?” she asks, and folds her arms across her chest.
I smile and stare at the road ahead. The truck’s engine rumbles, stripping away the silence between us. “I know you still love me, Jazz. You just like being tough.”
“I never denied that, Trip,” she says, softly. “It’s just that…a lot has changed. It doesn’t make sense for us to keep chasing a pipe dream. I leave in three days, and then this…maybe…I don’t know…”
“Exactly. You don’t know, but I do. This can work. It will.”
I’m pretty sure of it. The truck rolls along, we leave the main road and turn onto the side street that goes another three miles to the salt cave. It’s one of the main tourist attractions in Willow Creek, so I’m expecting to have to wait for a spot, especially right after Christmas…and so close to New Year’s Day.
The ringing of my phone interrupts my thoughts, and I pick it up off the dash and glance at it before answering. “Trisha, what’s up?” I look over at Jazz who has a curious look on her face. I turn back to the road.
“Where are you?” Trisha asks.
“Um, I’m currently on the road, with Jazz,” I say. She doesn’t reply. I move the phone from my ear to check if the line has been disconnected. “Trisha? Are you still there?”
“Yea, I’m still here. Listen, I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I forgot to pick up groceries. I was just about to make dinner for the boys, but you know how awful they can be at the store.”
“So, you want me to watch them while you go…?” I notice the look on Jazz’s face that could cut me in half. “Or, do you want me to get the groceries?”
“What?” Jazz mouths, and I touch her hand, just to assure her it’s no big deal, and we’ll get on with our date soon enough.
“Send me a list of the things you need. I’ll get them for you.”
“Thanks so much, Trip,” she says, gratefully. “I’m sorry for ruining your date.”
“It’s not a problem, Trisha. I’ll see you in a bit.”
I hang up, and Jazz is visibly upset. She narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms. “Really?”
“What? Would you prefer if I’d told her I wouldn’t help?”
“Maybe,” she says, and exhales loudly. “What would she have done if you weren’t available?”
“I don’t know. Make do, I guess,”
“And that’s my point, Trip. It’s like she doesn’t even try because she knows you’ll do whatever she wants, out of guilt or obligation or whatever…I’m not even sure.”
“You think that’s what this is?” I ask, as I get to a clearing and turn the truck around.
“Maybe. A little?” She says, and looks across at me.
“No, Jazz. I help her because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Well, I was with her earlier today, and she didn’t have the boys. She said they were with their grandmother. Why didn’t she go grocery shopping after she got home?”
“Jazz, don’t get so worked up about this, I’ll be done in no time, and then you can have me to yourself again.”
She swats my hand away, and I laugh at her pouting. All she’s doing is reminding me of the girl from ten years ago who loved having her way, and acted stubborn in order to get it.
She’s still upset while I go into the store. I get the groceries and return. “Jazz?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re not going to stay mad at me, are you?”
“I might,” she says, without looking.
“We’re still going to the salt cave. The date is still on, and we have plenty of time.”
“That’s right,” she says. “Trip, Mr. do-it-all.”
I laugh and turn the key in the ignition. “Why the hell not? I can have my cake and eat it, too.”
She heaves a sigh and looks out the window as the truck rolls out of the parking lot. “What’s really going on here, Trip?” she finally says, with a biting tone.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there something between you and Trisha that I don’t know about?”
I laugh at her question, and then I look over and realize she’s being serious. “Jazz, nothing is going on between us. I’m just looking out for my best friend’s family because he isn’t here to do it. I’ve told you this already.” She doesn’t say anything. I shake my head. “Is that what the problem is? Is that why you’re telling me we won’t work? You think there’s something going on with me and Trisha?”
“Not really,” she says, “but she’s too heavily dependent on you. Makes me think that’s really why you won’t leave Willow Creek—out of a sense of obligation.”
“Who says I won’t leave Willow Creek?” I say, and grin sheepishly.
I see the expression on her face change to one of wonderment. “You’d leave?”
“I can leave…if I have to,” I say. “Are you giving me
a reason to leave?” Her mouth opens, but no words come out. I laugh. “Well, that’s a first. You have nothing to say.”
She clamps her mouth shut again and smiles. “You’re something else.”
I get to Trisha’s and hop out of the truck. “Be right back.” Jazz rolls her eyes, and I grab the bags and half-jog up to the door, anxious to get back to my date. I can hear the boys screaming through the door and I laugh to myself. She thinks something is going on between me and Trisha. Unbelievable!
Trisha opens the door, and before I can take a step, she throws her arms around my neck. “You’re such a life saver,” she says.
I laugh. “Uh, a little help, please.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says and pulls back. “I’ll take this.”
She takes one of the bags from my hands, and I kick the door closed when I’m inside.
“They have been going at it ever since I got them from Ma,” she says and dives into the bags to unpack the groceries.
“You know how they are,” I say, and stoop so they can barrel into me like they always do. They almost knock me over. “Whoa!” I shout and grab onto the chair to keep my balance. “You’re getting too big to do that!”
“I’m strong!” Kyle says, and shows off his baby muscles.
“Me, too,” Conrad says. “You want to wrestle?”
Trisha laughs behind us. “That would help. Would be nice if you distracted them, while I make dinner.”
“No, not this evening, guys,” I tell the boys and ruffle their curly heads. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go where?” Trisha asks, and stops unpacking to look at me.
“Trisha…” I say, and look at her with disbelief, “I told you when you called that I was on the road with Jazz. We were going out.”
She clenches her jaw. “I thought you took her home before you got the groceries.”
“I didn’t. We’re still going out. She’s waiting for me in the truck, so I need to leave.”
I walk towards the door, and she hurries from behind the counter and stands between me and the door…her arms folded, and her eyes red with anger. “What the hell are you doing, Trip?”
My eyebrows dip in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking me.”
“Ever since Jazz came into town you’ve been like a different person. You’re always with her, like you’re trying to reconnect. Don’t you think that’s cruel.”
“Cruel? How?” I stare into her eyes and wait for her reply.
“Trip, Jazz is leaving in three days, and then that’s it. She’ll go back to New York. What good will it do her if you mess around with her, and then she leaves?”
I wipe my hand down my face. “Trisha, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t see what any of this has to do with you?”
“You don’t see? Didn’t you promise to help me and the boys for Derrick’s sake?” She says and glares at me.
“And when haven’t I lived up to that?” I’m slowly getting annoyed by the twenty-questions she’s throwing at me.
“You have. So far, yes. But what about if you leave, chase her, or whatever. What happens then, huh?”
I grip her shoulders, just so she knows I’m serious, and that this conversation is over. “Trisha, I’ll always make sure you and the boys are okay. I’ll never go back on that. But I don’t have to be in Willow Creek to do that.”
“But…she’s not like us. She’s a city girl. She’s into heels, and fancy restaurants, and Broadway crap. And you…you’re a small-town guy. You’d be miserable in the city.”
“So now you know what’s best for me?”
“Yes, and you’re not thinking straight.”
“Okay, that’s enough. I have my girl waiting for me out in the truck. What I do with her is my business. Don’t get mixed up with that, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She stomps. “Trip.”
“Good night, Trisha,” I say, and walk out.
I stand on the porch for a couple of seconds, getting my thoughts together before I go back out. Before I step off, I hear her yelling angrily at the boys. She has it in her head that I’ll leave, and she’ll be on her own, but that’s not me. And she should know that by now.
Just like Jazz should know that I’ll follow her anywhere, because where she is, that’s my home.
“That took longer than expected,” Jazz says, when I get back in the truck.
“Don’t even go there,” I say and exhale. Two women going off on me? Not an evening any man wants to have.
“I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes…”
“Jazz!” I say louder. “Drop it, okay? I’m back now, and I’d really appreciate a nice evening with you that doesn’t involve the mention of any other woman. Or anyone else for that matter. Is that okay with you?”
Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.”
“Good. Now, let’s go have a great time.”
She’s quiet for the entire ride to the salt cave, but I don’t ask what she’s thinking about. I figure I’ll let that sleeping dog lie.
Her spirits are lifted by the time we arrive, and thankfully, there aren’t many guests waiting in line.
“Come on,” I say, and throw my arm around her, pulling her closer to me. “Let’s give you an evening you won’t forget.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” she says, smiling up at me.
“You won’t…” I lean over and kiss her soft lips, all traces of our earlier—and uncomfortable—conversations…gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Jasmine
“Good evening, and welcome to Willow Creek Salt Cave and Spa,” a chirpy, blonde and curly-haired woman says as she smiles broadly.
“Thank you,” we both say in unison, and I feel Trip’s fingers caressing my shoulder.
“What name is the reservation under?” She asks, and peers at her computer screen, ready to search for whatever information he gives her.
“Michael Tucker,” he says.
While she’s looking, I get a chance to check out the place. It’s only the entrance, but you couldn’t tell it’s an actual cave. The décor is rustic, with wooden furniture and logs on the wall positioned in an artistic fashion. The soft, pinkish hue reflecting from the covered lights on the wall remind me of a Fall sunset, and already I’m feeling warm and mushy inside.
There’s a moose head on the wall behind the receptionist and it doesn’t even look creepy at all. In essence, it’s like I’m standing in a cabin in the woods.
“Here you are,” she says, and pulls open a drawer. “Here you go.” She hands us our passes.
“You’ll need to go to the locker area, change out of your shoes, and use the robe, flip-flops, and ear phones provided.”
“Thank you,” I say, and take them from her.
Her eyes remain fixed on Trip, like she’s smitten, and I smile at the idea that she wants what I have, and that she’ll never get it. I slip my hand around his waist for show, grin at her, and pull Trip away.
She blinks rapidly for a couple of seconds before her plastered smile returns, and she welcomes the guests standing behind us.
“Someone’s getting in the mood,” Trip whispers to me, and kisses the top of my head.
I smile back. “I am.” Trisha’s face is slowly becoming a blur in my mind. I must be crazy thinking Trip would ever get with her. He’s too noble for that. He’d never be with his late best friend’s wife.
And he’s suggested that he’ll follow me to New York. That’s something to smile about.
We find the locker rooms and change into our spa outfits before we’re escorted to the main therapeutic room. It looks a lot different than the last time I was here, but that was a long time ago.
The walls are preserved in the granite rock that constitutes the original cave. There are ridges every couple of feet, and scented candles positioned in the slots. The lights dance around the room, giving off an eerie kind of vibe.
“I thought this was suppo
sed to be therapeutic,” I whisper to Trip.
“Shh,” he says and places his index finger over his lips. “Here we are.” We get comfortable in our zero gravity chairs. “And it is therapeutic.”
It takes me a couple of minutes to warm up to the place. I slip the ear buds into my ears, and the beautiful sounds of classic jazz streams through the speaker. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” I say, clearly too loudly as the woman across from me gives me a stern look. “Sorry,” I mouth, and glance over at Trip.
He reaches over and takes my hand, which seems to only piss off the woman even more. I nod at her, asking Trip—without words—what’s her deal. He shrugs, and I resume my relaxed posture.
The chair tilts back until I’m almost parallel with the floor. I instantly feel some amount of stress leaving me. Maybe it’s all in my mind, but the serenity the cave brings is instant.
I look over and Trip is laying back too with his eyes closed. I squeeze his hand, and he cracks open the eye closest to me. I smile. “I’m glad I came.”
“I know,” he says. “In a town like this, it’s got to be the highlight of your trip. That, or the farmer’s market…”
I laugh, and quickly clamp my hand over my mouth, when a man—this time—arches his eyebrows at us.
“You’re going to get us kicked out,” Trip whispers.
I giggle. “Let them try.”
“Miss? Sir?” The attendant whispers, as he approaches us. We look over at each other, and I stifle a smile. I know why he’s there. “A couple of the guests are complaining. There’s no talking in this section, or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Okay, sorry,” I mouth to him.
“We’ll be quiet,” Trip whispers back.
He nods and walks back out. The woman in front of me is still staring at us, after one last stern glance she stuffs the ear buds into her ears again and closes her eyes.
I do the same, and the soft sounds wash over me like a cloud.
Some time later, Trip taps my arm and I open my eyes and remove my earbuds. “Yeah?”
“Ready to get out of here?” He asks.
I’ve never felt this rejuvenated. Ever! I’m almost reluctant to leave but then that old shrew hisses, “Shh!”