He gave my hand a comforting squeeze and my arm took on a life of its own as tingling squiggles zoomed their way from nerve ending to nerve ending.
I snatched my hand back, flustered. I couldn’t handle my head spinning right now, it would just be too much. And when Clay touched me, my head turned into a merry-go-round, complete with calliope music piped in.
He leaned back in the booth and smiled, a wicked grin I’d seen a few times from him now. It seemed to be a favorite. “So, do you need to call your boyfriend and let him know what happened?”
I laughed. “I see what you’re doing, buddy.”
He winked. “I wasn’t trying to be subtle.”
I tried to control the blush I felt creeping up on my cheeks, but it was useless.
The truth was, I didn’t really believe in love. I’d seen so many men pass in and out of my mother’s life while I was growing up that it kind of soured me on the concept of permanence. I was usually pretty upfront about that with guys. But with Clay, for whatever reason, I held back my misanthropic theories on the nature of love.
“No boyfriend,” I admitted simply.
His only answer was that same wolfish grin.
“What about you?” I countered. “Is there a little woman sitting at home somewhere while you ply your cocktail trade all over the country? Or is there a trail of broken hearts scattered in the wake of your Harley?”
He laughed out loud and that made me inordinately proud.
“Definitely not the first. Probably not the second. I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, couldn’t you tell how upset they were when you broke up with them?”
He shook his head. “None of them rose to the level of requiring some kind of official breakup. I don’t like entanglements. I’ve never taken the kind of jobs you have to give two-weeks notice to, and I’ve never dated the kind of girls you have to give the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech to. When I start feeling restless, I just bounce, Good Will Hunting-style. Chuckie shows up at my door and I’m gone. A few have gotten attached but I’m always clear from the beginning that I’m not the man that sticks around.”
Even though there was no logical reason for it, that glimpse into the inner workings of Clay made my stomach drop. And not in the good way. Not in the fun ‘click, click, click of the roller coaster as it climbs up to the drop’ way. Oh no, it plummeted in the ‘brakes squealing just before you slam into a semitruck’ kinda way.
Luckily, our waitress came back and set the burgers down in front of us just then. I was grateful for the distraction.
Clay affected me in a way that was new, and one that I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of navigating. I was like a kid trying to ride a bike without training wheels when it came to controlling my reactions to him—in short, a little shaky and a whole lot wobbly!
I dipped a fry in ketchup and lifted it to my mouth. I was at a loss for words for whatever reason and that seemed a good way to cover.
Clay watched me, chewing his burger thoughtfully as he studied my expression. “Are you worried? About your car and everything?”
“Yup,” I shot back. I needed a bandwagon to jump on, and that one seemed as good as any.
“Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“How do you know that?”
He grinned. “Because I’m here.”
Oh boy.
He squeezed my hand again, then, and both his words and his touch sent me right back into a flurry of head-spinning sensation, undoing all the hard work I’d just done to get myself back on an even keel.
I had a feeling that it might just be easier to give in and go with the flow. Or maybe that it wasn’t even up to me—all of my thoughts about getting myself in check, keeping my face neutral, penning in my emotions. In the end, they were most likely just whistling in the wind. A way to convince myself that I could control myself and how I felt around Clay when, in truth, I was out of my depth and had no freaking clue how to handle it.
Chapter 9
Brandy
The sound of the ringing bell stayed in my ears long after it had faded from the air around me, but nevertheless, I slapped my palm down on it another few times.
“Hello? Hello?”
Clay and I stood at the front desk of the tiny, rustic motel and continued to do the same thing we’d been trying to do for ten minutes—get someone to come out and help us.
I turned to him, distress filling me. “I don’t understand. This ‘We’ll Be Back At’ sign is set to two hours ago. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I have a feeling they don’t run the tightest ship around here.”
I laughed, a bitter sound. “You mean punctuality might not be at the top of their priority list?”
“I don’t think so.”
Fear and a touch of despair settled in my belly like a cold stone but I put on a brave face. “Okay, this could be worse. A lobby isn’t an ideal place to spend the night but at least there’s a roof over my head.” I tried to smile but it was feeble at best. “I mean, it would be nice if there was at least a chair in here. But hey, I’m young. My body can take one night on a hard floor.”
Clay’s features bunched up in a way that told me he thought I was crazy, or at least a complete moron.
Well, dang. I thought I’d been keeping my shit together rather well, thankyouverymuch. “What?” I snapped.
I heard the defensive edge to my voice and jumped to apologize immediately. That wasn’t a very gracious way to treat someone who’d been nothing but kind to me—and who’d, not to put too fine a point on it, totally saved my ass. “Sorry. I guess the stress is just getting to me. Let me try that one again.” I lifted my features up into an exaggeration of a sweet, inquisitive expression and made my voice high and pleasant. “What might that extreme expression be for, if I may inquire?”
I hadn’t even reached the end of the sentence before I was giggling at my own silliness. There was that old habit again, rearing its head.
Clay smiled, but whether it was at my meager attempt at humor or my own enjoyment of that attempt remained a mystery. He shook his head as his amusement petered out. “That look was because you’re nuts if you think I’m letting you spend the night in this motel lobby. Come on. Grab your stuff. You can stay in my room.”
The skin over my entire body tightened at the thought of staying in Clay’s room with him. Flashes appeared in my mind like snapshots. Clay and I in the same bed, darkness enshrouding us and making it feel like we were in a tiny cocoon made for just the two of us. Then, waking up in the morning with dust-speckled sunlight streaming across us, saying our sleepy hellos.
The whole thing felt so intimate. And that was just in my imagination!
“I don’t know,” I waffled, my brows drawn together in worry.
“I do,” he said, and the decisiveness in his voice quelled all of my objections.
I bit the inside of my lip.
His brown eyes bore into mine. As much as I enjoyed his undivided attention I braced myself. When he saw my uncertainty I assumed he’d get frustrated and leave. Instead he shrugged with a grin. “Or we’ll stay here.”
“We? Here?” I parroted the keywords that jumped out at me.
The sincerity in his eyes caused my knees to weaken. “You’re not staying here alone.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fi—” I tried to argue.
“You’re not staying here alone.” He repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll either be spending the night in room six or here. I’m taking the floor either way so it really doesn’t make a difference to me. Your call.”
Trust was not something that came easily to me. Why would it? Everyone in my life had disappointed me. Let me down. Put themselves first. That wasn’t exactly a breeding ground for learning how to depend on people. In fact, it had taught me to do the exact opposite.
But for some inexplicable reason, I trusted Clay. Maybe more than I trusted anyone.
No
t to mention, I could feel the same throw-caution-to-the-wind tingle in my belly that had started at the beginning of my trip fluttering in my belly again. It wasn’t full-blown, but the first whisper of it was there.
Time to channel Sandy again.
“Thank you. I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. The room is fine. I’ll pay for half of the room rate,” I replied.
So, the “channel Sandy” plan had been a half-success at best.
I heard the businesslike briskness in my tone and wanted nothing more than to slap myself in the forehead and roll my eyes at my own foolishness. Damn, what was I going to do next? Seal the deal by putting out my hand for a nice, firm handshake? Suggest a round of golf the next weekend?
Seriously, Brandy! Stop acting weird!
Wow. If only shaking a case of nerves and acting normal was as simple as screaming at yourself inside your head to do so. That’d make life a whole helluva lot simpler.
Clay either didn’t notice my awkwardness or didn’t care. He lifted my duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder before a panty-melting grin split his lips. “Good call.”
There was nothing for me to do but follow…and try not to drool.
Chapter 10
Clay
I couldn’t believe my good luck. The mechanic being closed, then Brandy having to spend the night here in BFE with me, and now the mysterious disappearance of the clerk throwing us in the same room together.
Well, probably not all that fucking mysterious. He hadn’t seemed like the kind of guy that would turn down an invitation to go get high with a buddy, if one were offered. And I kinda got the impression that one being offered wasn’t all that rare. Every place I’d ever travelled had guys like that. They were easy to spot. I guessed this one was no different.
Still. It really seemed like the universe was smiling down on me and Brandy. Giving us a cosmic thumbs-up. I wished I could give it a cosmic high-five in return. I couldn’t stop grinning.
She turned and glanced at me, saw my grin. “So, this must be the kind of wacky adventure you have all the time on the road.”
I chuckled. “Oh, sure. Boy meets girl. Boy drops girl’s car off at auto repair shop in the middle of nowhere. Boy can’t find motel clerk and offers girl chance to sleep in his room at the Bates motel. It’s a tale as old as time.”
She smacked my arm. “Whatever. I didn’t mean this exact kind of thing. I just meant hijinks and shenanigans. Like, in general.”
Hijinks and shenanigans? Who talked like that? Damn, this girl was cute and every word she spoke spun me tighter in her intoxicating web of innocence, strength, sexiness, and charm, trapping me. And I’d never been happier to be a prisoner.
“Oooh,” I said, drawing the word out like I was having a revelation. “You mean general wackiness. Garden variety antics. Commonplace monkey business and just your average-type horseplay. Gotcha.”
She threw her head back and laughed, full-throated and lovely, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her face as she did. She was transported. Everything about her lit up from the inside when she laughed, beaming out of her skin like the sun at high noon. Waves of warmth licked at my skin as I watched her.
Aww, yeah. Making her laugh was where it was at. That shit was like a drug. I wanted to mainline it, and I didn’t care if I got addicted. Hell, I wanted to get addicted.
When her laugh tapered off and she looked up at me, her eyes still twinkled with amusement, and fuck if that wasn’t almost as great as the laughter was.
“That’s fine,” she teased. “You don’t have to tell me all about your road adventures. We can just make a pact. Nothing existed before tonight. No pasts. Our lives, as far as the other person is concerned, started the minute you pulled your bike off to the side of the road.”
“I like it,” I said.
I did like it. It saved me from whatever super sappy thing I’d been about to blurt out, like No adventure I’ve ever had compares to the sense of possibility I see when I look in your eyes, or What do you say we go have the most exciting adventure either of us has ever experienced, right now, together?
I mean…who talked like that?!
Yeah. That wouldn’t send her screaming for the hills or anything. Better to play her game. No talk of the past. No thinking about it, either. And I’d add one more wrinkle: no futures, either. That shit only complicated things.
Just the two of us. Me and Brandy. Right here, right now.
It was enough. Hell, it was more than enough. It was fucking spectacular.
Chapter 11
Brandy
I followed Clay through the door to the motel room and tried to keep my eyes from flitting around the room. The last thing I wanted to do was let him see how nervous I was to be there in this room alone with him. I had to maintain control. Wasn’t that kind of my thing? My mantra?
Never lose control. No matter what you do, never lose control.
Yep.
That familiar refrain was definitely my mantra.
Now, for the first time in my life, I’d met someone that made me want to be completely reckless. Made me want to abandon all of the reins I’d held to so tightly throughout my entire life.
When I looked at him, the way that he was so strong and in charge himself, it made me feel free.
With my mom and Sandy always doing exactly what they wanted without thinking of the consequences first, I’d never had the freedom to go with the flow. How could I? There had to be one person—one person who would pay the electric bill, one person who would do the grocery shopping, one person who would make sure there was gas in the cars.
One person who definitely would not end up in jail on any given night, either for some crazy prank in Sandy’s case or some drunken outburst in my mother’s.
It wasn’t that I’d wanted to be that person. It was just that there was no one else.
But with Clay? I saw the possibility for a life that wasn’t defined by just being “the responsible one.” I saw life where I could just be Brandy. I liked the version of “Brandy” I saw reflected back when he looked at me.
Unless…damn. I could be misreading the signals entirely, and he was just a nice guy who wanted to help me out. But I didn’t think that was the case. When he looked at me, I saw fire in his eyes that had nothing to do with being “nice.”
“So…” He set the bag down. “Like I said, I’ll take the—”
“I have to go to the bathroom!” I blurted out, cutting him off before he could finish.
In the bathroom, I stared at my face in the mirror and saw someone I didn’t recognize, which was doubly disconcerting because, as half of an identical twin set, I saw my face a lot more than most people did.
But the face I saw staring back at me in the mirror was someone unsure of herself. I didn’t like that person, and I refused to be her.
There was no way I could possibly let Clay sleep on the floor. I mean, he was willing to spend the night in the motel lobby for me. The nurturer and caretaker in me was screaming. This was his room. I was the guest.
I straightened my shoulders, splashed cold water on my face, smoothed down my hair, and marched right out of the bathroom, determined to be the strong and confident Badass Brandy I’d always known and loved—or at least known and trusted.
That lasted exactly as long as it took me to lay eyes on Clay’s face again, and then the shakiness started to set in. I nearly turned to mush and let my jellied knees collapse right out from under me.
But, I didn’t give in to that impulse. I rode the wave of momentum I’d gotten started in the bathroom and said, my voice clear and firm, “You’re not taking the floor. We can share the bed. I’ll sleep on top of the covers, you can sleep under them. It works. I’ve seen it in movies.”
He smiled, and my stomach joined my knees in turning to jelly.
“One small problem with that plan.”
I let my chin jut out defiantly. “And what’s that?”
Since I’d folded when he’
d insisted that he would stay in the lobby with me, he might think he’d be the victor in a stubborn-off, but he’d be sorely mistaken. I could out-stubborn the best of them.
“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on top of the covers. Not with how cold it can get at night here. You get under. I’ll stay on top.”
“But…” I trailed off. What’d almost just popped out of my mouth was but, I don’t know if I can trust myself not to jump you if I’m glancing over and seeing your body on top of the covers all night. Which, while completely true, shocked the living daylights out of me and was probably not the best thing to say to a stranger in his motel room when you were about to share a bed with him.
“But what?”
I searched my mind for a long moment, but couldn’t come up with any reason that didn’t involve admitting to my lack of willpower when it came to his body and my ability to resist it all night if it was laid out in front of me like a raw steak in front of a dog’s nose. That wasn’t exactly something I was eager to cop to, so I eventually just shrugged.
“But, nothing,” I said, still slightly shaken with my unexpected reaction. “That sounds like a good plan.”
He grinned as he slid out of his leather jacket and then pulled his tight black T-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
I drew in a breath, and my eyes shot wide. A warm, tingling tightness started low in my belly and spread south. It was a part of my anatomy I’d kept locked down tight for…well, forever. It was hard to be level-headed and responsible enough to keep a family of two unpredictable women on track without being led around by hormones. In fact, I’d kept it in jail for so long, I was starting to wonder if it even worked. Maybe I just wasn’t like other girls, all giddy and boy crazy.
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