by T. K. Leigh
The second I yank on the parking brake and kill the engine, Nora jumps out of the Jeep, not giving me a chance to open her door. She’s been doing that all day, which has only added to the edginess between us. I react quickly, scrambling out and hurrying toward the main office, catching up to her in time to open the door for her. If she won’t allow me to help her out of the car, at least I can do this for her.
“Welcome to the Blue Swallow,” a woman with graying hair and kind eyes greets us when we step inside the air-conditioned building. Vintage photographs of the motel cover the walls, like a timeline of it through the years. It’s not a large space. Just big enough to house the registration desk and a small merchandise area, boasting t-shirts and other Blue Swallow or Route 66 memorabilia. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Nora Tremblay. I have a reservation.”
I fling my gaze to hers. “You do?”
She peers at me like the idea of not having a reservation here is preposterous. “Don’t you?”
“Well… No. We’ve been sort of winging it.”
“Yes, but I told you yesterday that this was the plan for today.”
I cringe inwardly, wondering how many more times I’m going to disappoint Nora. Then I face the woman behind the desk. “Do you have any rooms available?”
Her expression falls. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re booked solid tonight. There are a handful of other options nearby. Mostly budget-friendly chains.”
I nod at her in thanks, then turn back to Nora, her expression difficult to read. Almost like annoyance mixed with relief.
“I’ll go check in somewhere else. You get settled in, then maybe we can grab dinner or something. If you’re up for it.” I give her a pleading look.
The last thing I want is for her to turn me down. Hell, the last thing I want is to stay in a different hotel. I fear it will only widen the divide between us.
“That’s not necessary,” Nora states.
I half-smile in understanding. “I guess we can both use some time to ourselves tonight. If you change your mind, the offer for dinner still stands.” I’m about to turn and go to the Jeep to grab her things when her voice stops me.
“Not dinner. That’s not what I meant.”
I stop, facing her. “It’s not?”
She draws in a deep breath. “It’s not necessary for you to stay somewhere else. You can just stay here.”
“But—”
“With me.” She worries her bottom lip, tilting her head to gauge my reaction.
“Are you sure?” I ask, recalling the multiple times in the past several hours she intentionally went out of her way to avoid my touch. How will she avoid me if we’re sharing a room? “I don’t mind. I—”
“It’s fine.” She squares her shoulders, her tone and expression akin to that of a businesswoman negotiating a deal, not a young woman offering to share her room with me. “Hell, most nights I fall asleep while you’re in my room anyway. This won’t be any different.”
Maybe if I were a better man, I’d thank her for the invite but decline, especially after the awkwardness that permeated everything we did today. But I’m not a better man. I’m a man who knows his time with this woman is a ticking bomb, nearing closer and closer to detonation.
“If you’re certain…”
“I am.” Except her words sound anything but. She turns back to the clerk. “Do you have anything with two beds?”
“I’m sorry. We don’t.”
“Do you have a king bed?” I interject.
She cringes. “Our rooms are on the smaller side. King beds would take up the entire space, and then some.” She laughs to herself. “The best I can offer is a room with a queen bed.”
Nora taps her fingernails against the counter, the idea of sharing a room seeming to lose its appeal with the knowledge that not only is there just one queen-sized bed, but that the rooms are too small to accommodate anything bigger. I’m about to voice my original offer of staying elsewhere when she straightens, nodding curtly, resolved.
“A queen bed is fine.” She reaches into her purse, pulling out her wallet, but I step in front of her.
“Allow me.” I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, placing my credit card on the counter. Or, rather, Anderson North’s company card.
“I made the reservation. I should pay.”
“But you’re letting me stay. Doesn’t seem fair for you to pay for a room you’re now stuck sharing with me.”
“I’m not stuck sharing it. I offered. I didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I place my finger on her credit card, pushing it back toward her. “Which is why I should pay. As a token of my gratitude.”
She glares at me, then her lips twitch into a hint at a smile. It’s the first break in the tension all day. I didn’t think I’d miss Nora’s smile as much as I have. Sure, we shared a few lighter moments as we continued checking items off her list and spreading the ashes along the way — the midpoint of Route 66 in Adrian, the Vega Motel in Vega, the ghost town in Glenrio right on the Texas/New Mexico border. But I haven’t seen her smile and actually feel it. They’ve all been forced and stilted, like a smile you’d give an old acquaintance you wished you hadn’t run into at the local pub. The authentic smile slowly building on her face fills me with hope that we’ll be able to cut through this tension and go back to the way things were before I screwed it all up.
“Why do I get the feeling that even if I refuse to let you pay, you’ll find a way to do so anyway?”
“Because you know how persistent I can be.” I step toward her, narrowing my gaze. A blush blooms on her cheeks under my stare. “When I want something, I don’t stop until I get it.”
She chews on her bottom lip, fighting a grin, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Fine.” She huffs in feigned annoyance as she grabs her card and returns it to her wallet. “But I’m paying for all the road snacks the rest of our trip.”
My mouth curves up into a small smile, relief filling me. The confirmation she wants to stay with me until the end gives me the boost I’ve needed all day.
“We’ll see about that.” I nod at my card, indicating for the clerk to run it, which she does.
After I sign the slip, she turns to a board behind her, a few keys hanging off the four rows of pegs. I can’t remember the last time I’ve stayed at a hotel where they gave you actual keys instead of an electronic card.
She’s about to hand me a set, then stops. “Can I say something?”
Nora and I share a look before returning our attention to her.
“Sure…,” I reply in a drawn-out voice.
“I’ve seen all types of people walk through that door.” She gestures past our shoulders at the glass door. “I’ve seen all types of couples walk through that door. Honeymooners. High school sweethearts. Older couples. Road companions.” She gives us a knowing look.
“It may not be my place to say, and maybe I’m misreading the signs, but I get a feeling about you two. You say you’re merely friends on a road trip, and you’ve probably even tried to convince yourself of that, but trust me…” She rests her elbows on the counter, leaning toward us. “There are some people whose souls are too inexplicably intertwined to ever be just friends.” She straightens. “And that’s what I see when I look at you two. Your souls are intertwined.” She studies us, the intensity causing goosebumps to prickle my skin.
I’ve never been one to believe in psychics or fortune-tellers, have always considered them frauds, swindling people out of their hard-earned money by offering them vague statements that could apply to anyone. But as this woman grabs Nora’s and my hand in each of hers, a chill washes over me. My insides vibrate with a connection I can’t explain.
“There are secrets between you.” She directs her steely gaze on me. “You’ve caused her pain. Or maybe you’re afraid of causing her pain.” She pauses, briefly closing her eyes, as if trying to see something in the recesses of her brai
n. When she returns her eyes to mine, they’re peaceful, determined, confident. “But you’re also her salvation. You saved her.”
I yank my hand from hers. “That’s preposterous. I—”
“And you.” She ignores my outburst, focusing on Nora, who seems intrigued, albeit skeptical. “There’s pain inside you.”
“Of course you’d say that, especially if you claim I’ve caused her pain.”
The woman lifts her free hand, silencing me, then closes her eyes, bringing a single finger to her temple. This entire situation unnerves me, makes me antsy. Not because the idea of anyone being able to see things buried in a person’s subconscious is crazy, but because a part of me wants to believe she can. Wants to believe that maybe I can be Nora’s salvation. And maybe she can be mine, too.
“You’re still clinging to the past when your future is right in front of you,” the woman finally says.
“My…future?” Nora repeats.
“Yes. It’s time to let go of the past. To live again. If you don’t, you won’t have a future.” She turns Nora’s hand over, studying her palm. “It won’t be easy. I still see more pain, more heartache.”
I lean toward Nora, peering over her shoulder as the woman analyzes the lines on her palm. Her gaze narrows, as if attempting to read the fine print. Then she points to a line that’s been cut short by a scar.
“There’s a point where your past and future will collide unexpectedly. You’ll want to run. Return to what’s familiar. Want to return to that time in your life when you thought you had everything. But you’ll soon realize what’s important.”
“And what’s that?” Nora asks hesitantly.
The clerk smiles, looking between the two of us. “Love.” She covers Nora’s hand with hers, squeezing it. “In the end, love is the only thing that matters. And you’ll find that love in a familiar stranger.”
Nora’s breath hitches, surprise covering her expression. “What did you say?” she asks frantically.
“It’s what I see. You’ll find your soul mate in a kindred spirit. A stranger your heart will recognize.”
“Oh, jeez,” a voice bellows.
Nora and I both jump, snapping our heads toward the door as a burly man walks through, carrying a black motorcycle helmet.
“Are you telling your fortunes again?” He rolls his eyes in playful annoyance as he approaches. “Miriam here fancies herself a ‘clairvoyant’ or something,” he explains in a subtle drawl. “Says she can sense things about people.”
“And I can.” She places her hands on her hips. “I sensed you were a giant pain in the ass, yet I married you anyway.”
“And I’m glad you did. Now if you could ‘sense’ the winning lottery numbers, maybe I’d stop teasing you.” He winks, slinging an arm around his wife’s shoulders and kissing her temple. Based on the affection between them, I can tell he appreciates his wife’s “gift”, whether he believes in any of it or not.
“Well, thank you.” I swipe the keys from the counter. If we stay any longer, I worry about what else Miriam will “see”.
“Hope you enjoy your stay,” the man says. “If you need anything, just holler. Oh, and if you can park outside of the carport next to your room, we’d appreciate it. Visitors like to stop by here to look at all the murals painted in them. They light up at night, what with all the neon.”
“Will do.” I turn to Nora. “Ready?”
“Of course.” She forces a smile onto her face, giving extra care to keep her distance yet again as we make our way out of the office and toward the Wrangler.
If I thought the tension throughout the day was thick, it’s practically impenetrable now, thanks to Miriam’s psychic reading.
Tonight is going to be very interesting.
Chapter Nineteen
Nora
Anderson’s presence permeates our room for the night, my pulse increasing when I observe how small it is. It doesn’t help that Miriam’s words seem to play on repeat.
In the end, love is the only thing that matters. And you’ll find that love in a familiar stranger.
I try to ignore it, tell myself it’s only vague ramblings that could apply to anyone. But I can’t ignore the fact her premonition is nearly identical to the vision that psychic shared with me all those years ago. That I’d find my soul mate in a stranger I recognize. Could she have been talking about Anderson? He’s a stranger. But is he one I recognize? I can’t discount that I’ve always found something familiar about him.
“Where would you like me to put your suitcase?”
When I hear Anderson’s voice, I snap out of my thoughts, waving my hand around. “Wherever you can find space.”
He heads toward the front corner beside a small window facing the parking lot and main road. “This okay?”
“Sure,” I reply nervously.
The room has been lovingly restored, boasting all the charm one would expect in a roadside motel back in the heyday of Route 66. Instead of a plush duvet covering the bed, there’s a handmade quilt with a pair of blue swallows on it. The walls are a dull yellow, framed prints of famous Route 66 landmarks adorning them. A queen bed takes up most of the room, along with a small recliner in an alcove by the bathroom. Other than that, there’s not much space to move. Miriam wasn’t lying when she said a king bed wouldn’t fit. A queen barely does.
Anderson sets down my suitcase and turns, both of us doing an uncoordinated dance to get out of each other’s way. But every time I step right, he follows, the awkward factor increasing exponentially, this already compact space getting tighter by the second.
“Sorry.” The flush along his brow gives the impression he’s as rattled as me.
Grabbing my biceps, he forces me to stop, the warmth of his hands on me sending a current from my arms straight to my core, my insides humming. It’s the first time he’s touched me since our kiss yesterday. I’ve kept my distance, probably obsessively so. The last thing I wanted was a reminder that even an innocent touch has the ability to light my body on fire. Now I can’t avoid it, his flames engulfing me.
When his eyes lock on mine, the blue hue darkens, his chest rising and falling in a faster pattern. With an unwavering gaze, he maneuvers our bodies, turning us like two teenagers dancing for the first time. Once he’s free from the tight corner by the bed, he drops his hold on me and scoots to the opposite end of the room.
Anxious to focus on something, anything other than Anderson, I open my suitcase and shift through its contents, finding my toiletry bag and a change of clothes. Careful to keep my vibrator hidden, I glance at him.
“Mind if I use the bathroom first to freshen up?” I ask shakily.
“Not at all.”
With a nod, I hurry toward the rear of the room, keeping my head lowered until I duck inside the bathroom. Leaning against the door, I take a moment to calm my nerves, blowing out a breath, thankful for the temporary reprieve from Anderson’s larger-than-life presence. What was I thinking when I offered for him to stay with me? Apparently, I wasn’t. How the hell am I going to keep any distance between us when we’re supposed to share a bed that may as well be a twin for all I care?
I push off the door and turn on the shower. Like the rest of the room, the bathroom is small, containing only a pedestal sink, toilet, and a shower stall. I wrap my hair in a towel, so I don’t have to go through the lengthy process of straightening it, then step under the water, washing the day off me.
After a longer than normal shower, mainly so I can avoid Anderson and the way he has me tied in knots, I dry off before pulling on a breezy sundress. Then I apply a hint of makeup and re-secure my strawberry blonde hair that’s more blonde than strawberry these days, thanks to the hours spent with the top down on the Wrangler.
Content with my appearance, I step into the bedroom and make a beeline toward my suitcase, avoiding Anderson’s eyes once more, as if not meeting his gaze will make him disappear.
“Are you all set in there, or…”
“It�
��s all yours,” I answer quickly.
“Thanks.”
He grabs his own toiletry bag and steps into the bathroom. Only a second or two passes before I hear the shower start. I flop onto the bed, grateful to have a little longer to myself. I’m probably making a bigger deal out of this than necessary. We’re two grown adults. Just because we’re sharing a room doesn’t mean anything. I’ve fallen asleep beside him in my bed every night this past week. Well, almost every night. Every night except for last night. Still, this is no different. Right?
God, I hope so.
I’m so consumed by unease that I don’t notice when the shower turns off. It’s not until the door creaks open that I snap out of my thoughts, watching Anderson stroll out of the bathroom…wearing nothing but a towel.
For the love of all that’s holy.
I can’t help but stare at the strong panes of his abs. The broad muscles of his shoulders. The surprising tattoo of a compass over his heart, something vaguely familiar about it. Droplets of water continue to fall from his mussed-up hair that seems to be a cacophony of shades, from dark brown, to auburn, to blond at the ends. I’ve never seen anything like it. I doubt I will again.
When I manage to lift my eyes to his, I notice he’s smirking at me.
“Sorry.” I jump to my feet and head toward the small window.
He chuckles. “What are you sorry for?”
“Nothing. You just, well… You’re in a towel.”
“So I’ve noticed.” His voice is amused, the cocky man I met a week ago returning.
“And you’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Does that bother you?”
I hear the rustling of clothes followed by the telltale thump of a wet towel dropping to the hardwood floor. All it would take is a slight movement of my head to either side and I’d catch a glimpse of Anderson in all his glory. Based on our kiss yesterday when he had me pinned against the car and circled his hips against me, I know I won’t be disappointed.