“Sure.” He eats the fries then picks up his burger. Blair watches him push the paper down around it and take a huge bite.
“Then why are you still eating?”
Road closes his eyes for a long moment as he chews. “God, that’s good. A year is too long.” He takes another bite and moans in appreciation.
Blair sneaks one of the french fries from the bag she’s still holding on her lap. She’s not sure what to do. She looks around at all the other ordinary cars where people are eating their food. Isadora isn’t an ordinary car, though. Clearly, he doesn’t care. Typical Road.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asks.
She shoots him a daggered look.
Road chuckles.
Jerk!
He eats more of his fries, but she can see now that he’s studying her. Laser focus on. “You’re kind of tightly wound, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He continues with his laser beams. “Yeah, you do.”
She grits her teeth.
“You need to unwind more. Live a little.”
“Be more like you, huh?”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, just keeps eating. “All I’m saying is you should try to relax.”
“I don’t need to relax.”
But Road starts talking. “I mean, damn, all those lists you’ve got posted everywhere, and then you’re making more lists every day.” He takes another bite and chews, considering her. “And why do you check your front door so many times at night?”
Blair’s face grows warm. She thought she was being more discreet about her OCD behavior. “I’m just checking to make sure it’s locked.”
“Ten times?”
“Three times.”
“Why not check it once?”
She squirms in her seat, looks back down at her food, finally gives in and eats another fry. “I just want to be safe.”
“Are you worried someone is going to break into your place? Because I’m there, and I’ll kick anybody’s ass.” He grins. “Me and Mr. Maurice.”
Blair smiles a little. “The action duo.”
“Hell, I’ll just throw Mr. Maurice at them. He can use his ninja claws.”
She laughs. “That would be something.”
Their eyes meet and Blair doesn’t look away, let’s herself fall into the kaleidoscope of green. “You have an amazing eye color.” The words slip out before she can stop them.
“Think so?” He continues to meet her gaze.
“I’m sure you’ve heard that a lot.”
“I’ve heard it.”
Blair can only imagine how many times he’s heard it. I’m sure every girlfriend he’s ever had has gushed about his eyes.
“I think you have pretty amazing hair.”
She blinks. “You do?”
He nods. “Always liked it. I’m partial to redheads.”
This is news. Since when? She wants to ask, but then she’d have to explain how she’s cataloged every single woman he’s ever dated and that would sound freaky. Even she can see how it is freaky.
His green eyes are drifting over her as he murmurs, “All that smooth, pale skin.”
Blair’s breath catches at his tone. She shifts in her seat as pleasure glides through her. Desire. Her endless desire for him. It’s just meaningless flirtation. I’ve seen him do it with lots of women.
His eyes have moved lower, taking in her sundress. They linger and she wonders why as a small thrill races through her. Is he checking out my legs?
“Are you going to eat that burger?” he asks.
Blair sighs. “Do you want it?”
“Only if you’re not going to eat it.”
She hands her burger over to him, and he pushes the paper down so he can eat this one, too. Despite his hearty appetite, Road has never been fat. She watches him enjoy the burger. He takes his time, doesn’t wolf it down like the first one, relishing it instead. He’s not a messy eater and is surprisingly fastidious, like a cat.
“I take it there were no Dick’s burgers in all the places you’ve traveled to?”
“I’ve had some great food, but this tastes like home, you know?”
Blair nods.
When he’s finally finished eating, he stuffs all the garbage in the large paper sack. Blair finally broke down and finished her french fries while Road ate the second burger, so she hands him her trash, too.
He gets out of the car to throw it away. On the way back, a couple of guys comment to him, pointing at Isadora, and Road stops to talk to them.
Blair takes the opportunity to indulge in what was once her favorite pastime—Road watching. If there was ever a sport she’d win an Olympic gold medal in, this was it. She was a champion at spying on Road.
She slouches a little in her seat, to make herself less obvious. Road is still standing there talking to the two guys. Between the sunglasses on top of his head and his long, blond hair, he looks like he’s giving an interview to Rolling Stone magazine. He’s using his hands as he talks, those well-made hands, and the two guys are nodding, listening.
After a few minutes, he heads back toward the car, so Blair pulls the sun visor down and pretends to look at herself in the mirror. This is why she’d take home the gold every time. Her ingenuity. Blair’s eyes stay on Road. He’s tall and carries himself well. It’s something she’s certain he inherited from Lori, who has a similar kind of fluid grace. Blair’s always imagined it served her well in her pageant days.
Road’s jeans are butter soft and hug his muscular thighs. His shoes—red and black striped sneakers—are the only real giveaway that he’s been out of the country for a while, since they don’t look in the least bit American.
He slips into the driver’s seat.
“Fans of Isadora?” Blair asks, flipping up the visor.
“Yeah, apparently one of the guys’ dad has a ’65 Mustang that needs some work, so I was telling them about what you and Brody did.” He turns to looks at her. “Do you get that a lot? People asking about Isadora?”
“I do.” She nods. “I’ve gotten used to it.” Oddly, Blair knows it’s been good for her. Owning Isadora has helped her to be less shy.
“You’ve done a beautiful job with her,” he says, but then amends it. “Except the color, of course.”
Blair rolls her eyes.
Road starts up the engine and they head back toward downtown Seattle, though he doesn’t tell her where he’s going. Eventually, he pulls into a parking garage near Pike Place Market and searches for a spot.
“Are we going to the Market?” she asks after he parks and closes Isadora’s convertible top.
“Yeah.” He reaches up in the corner to latch the top in place, and Blair does the same with the one on her side. “Figure we’d grab a couple of cold ones and sit outside.”
They get out of the car and Blair follows Road down the parking garage’s urine-scented stairwell.
It’s a sunny Sunday and there are people everywhere. She can hear guitar music from a busker drifting their way. Road is walking with purpose, and Blair asks him if he has someplace specific in mind.
“Heard there was a good Mexican place down in Post Alley.”
The place he’s talking about is kind of hidden, but eventually they find it. They’re seated outside on the restaurant’s terrace with a fantastic view of the water. Blair looks around in amazement. She’s never heard of this place, but Road is back in town less than a week and already knows the coolest spots. It figures.
Their waiter comes over with menus, along with chips and salsa, asking them in a heavy Spanish accent if they’d like water, to which they both say yes.
Road studies the menu while Blair studies Road. She can’t pull her eyes away. He’s in a spotlight from the sun, and it’s making the stubble on his face shine golden-blond. He’s so dazzling, she could sit here all day and admire him.
She thinks back to how relaxed he’s been, and how she’s sure he got laid last n
ight. She can’t help wondering again who it was.
Probably that bitch, Marla.
A fierce jealousy takes hold. Twists in her gut like a knife. All the years of being in love with Road, all the wishing and wanting. She turns her head away, gazes out at the water and tries to crush these terrible feelings to dust.
When their waiter comes back with the water and asks to take their order, Road surprises her by speaking in Spanish. The waiter seems surprised, too, but then smiles as the two of them converse for a few minutes.
Finding out Road speaks Spanish isn’t helping her mood. Blair decides she needs a drink. A real one.
“Cadillac Margarita.”
The waiter leaves and Road raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a margarita fan.”
She shrugs. I am today. “Since when do you speak Spanish?” she asks.
“Spent some time with a friend in Madrid.”
Blair can tell by the inflection in his voice the friend is a woman. And then she remembers how Tori told her he had a Spanish girlfriend. The jealousy knife twists deeper, even though she knows it’s irrational. She and Road were never a real couple, despite being married. And she’s certainly had boyfriends, though none of them could evoke even a tenth of what she feels for Road.
He’s eating chips and salsa, relaxed and happy, admiring the view of the water, while Blair is struggling with a hurricane of emotion.
What would he do if I just flat-out told him the truth?
If she admitted her feelings to him, had the guts to do it, cleansed her soul, would it change anything? Would he even care?
Road, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. Crazy madly in love.
Really, babe? That’s great.
Did you hear what I said? I am out of my mind in love with you and have been for years.
That’s real nice, princess.
I know it was horrible what happened between us, but I have to confess, a tiny part of me was glad I carried your child inside of me, however briefly, because it was yours. I’d do anything for you, and I wanted our marriage to be real, but then you left me the first chance you got. Escaped was more like it!
Look, I only slept with you because I was drunk, and I only married you because you were pregnant.
Yes, and that’s how pathetic I am! Despite everything, I’m still madly in love with you. Don’t you see? The truth is I haven’t divorced you because I don’t want to. I’ll never get over you, and I’ll probably love you till the day I die.
Babe, that’s sweet.
Sweet? There’s nothing sweet about it! I’m so crazy in love with you I’d open a vein if you told me to. I’d jump off the roof of this building if you said it’d make you happy!
Really? Maybe you could give me back my car.
I don’t think so.
“So, what are we going to do about this, princess?”
“Huh?” Blair’s eyes flash to Road’s. “What did you say?” She realizes Road has been talking to her, but she hasn’t heard a word.
“About all your list making and checking the front door. Maybe I can help?”
The waiter brings them their food and drinks. It turns out Road ordered a beer and nachos, and he immediately digs into them.
“I can’t believe you’re still hungry after eating two burgers.”
“I’m always hungry.” Road leans back for a moment and pats his hard, flat stomach. “Got to feed the monster.”
Yeah, right. Blair continues to watch him eat. She has a few bites herself, but is more interested in her drink.
“Why does everything have to be so perfect for you all the time?” he asks. “The lists, the car, worrying over where every fork or spoon goes.”
“I don’t know. I’ve always been this way. Everyone in my family is a perfectionist.” Granted, she’s the worst of the bunch.
“Life’s not perfect.”
“I know that.”
“Maybe it’s time to get over it.”
Blair was stirring her margarita, using the fat straw it came with, but now she looks up at him. “Get over it? That’s your great advice?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I know that sounds simplistic, but sometimes you have to let things go.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t have any weaknesses.”
“I have weaknesses.”
“Like what?
He thinks about it. “I’m too impulsive. Don’t always look before I leap.”
Blair rolls her eyes. She knows him so well that she already knows he doesn’t believe this is a weakness. He’d see this as being bold, and being bold is a strength.
“I’m also too blunt,” he continues. “Don’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings, but sometimes I do.”
“Give me a break. You’re naming all these weaknesses that you secretly think are strengths.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
He gets an annoyed expression. “What makes you think you know me so well?”
And there it is. Blair almost tells him how he was under her microscope for years, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sucks greedily on her margarita while Road sips his beer, watching her.
“Maybe you should slow down a little, have some more food.”
“No, I’m not hungry.” Happily, the margarita is starting to kick in and she feels better, like she’s floating in a hazy cloud. “I’ll tell you one thing,” she says, the tequila making her brazen. “You’d never pass the Bandito Test.”
“What’s that?”
Blair explains the whole thing to him, and thinks of the irony. She gives this test to every guy she dates, while the guy she’s been in love with her whole life wouldn’t even pass it. Road would never risk his life to save her from the banditos.
When she’s done explaining it, Road shakes his head. “I swear, chicks come up with the weirdest shit.”
“It’s not weird.”
“Yes, it is.”
Their waiter comes over and says something to him in Spanish, and Road turns to her. “We’re finished, right?” He starts speaking Spanish again, but Blair interrupts.
“I’d like another margarita, please.”
Road looks at her in surprise.
The waiter nods and looks at Road, who says something about cerveza, so Blair figures he’s getting another beer.
“Why are you drinking so much?” he asks once they’re alone again.
“What are you? My mother?”
“Just curious, is all.”
When their drinks finally arrive, Blair immediately goes to town with hers. She knows Road is right and she should slow down, but she’s feeling reckless for a change.
Road leans back in his chair, his golden-green eyes watching her. “You really think I wouldn’t pass that test of yours?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? You think I’m a coward?”
“No.” She takes another long pull on her straw. The margarita is bright, sour-sweet, and very strong. “I don’t think you’re a coward.”
“Then what?”
She knows Road isn’t a coward, and if it was any other woman, someone he cared about, was in love with, she knows he’d pass that test with flying colors. He wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for her.
It’s me he’d never rescue.
Road is waiting for her to answer, but she ignores him. He takes a swallow from his beer, still considering her.
If only I could fall out of love with him.
That would solve all her problems. She thinks about how she’ll be thirty-one on her next birthday, but it’s like part of her life is standing still. And now that Road is here for good, there’s no escape.
I’m like a junkie.
Blair flashes back to that one night they had together and how Road was a terrible lover. She even wonders if that’s why his girlfriend cheated on him. At the time, she thought it
was mind-boggling that any woman would cheat on Road, but now she sort of gets it. Of course, not all of his ex-girlfriends cheated—some of them lost their minds when he broke up with them. She remembers one Skank Factor X who smashed every window on Isadora with a tire iron. Most of his girlfriends were so self-involved they probably didn’t even notice he was a bad lover. Occasionally, one of them would break up with him, though, and she imagines they were fed up, because how long could you put up with someone who was never willing to satisfy you?
Not long.
If only she had the same access to him as all his bitchy girlfriends.
It might actually cure me of this addiction.
And that’s when it comes to her. The craziest idea ever. Her breath catches at the audacity of it. Even in her tequila-induced haze, she knows it’s beyond nuts.
What if I could have sex with Road again? She knows he’d refuse if she asked him, that even if she threw herself at him, he’d refuse. So how could I entice him?
Isadora.
But I love Isadora! I could never give her up. Never!
But then she imagines herself free of Road, free of the tormenting dreams, free of this obsessive love, which—let’s face it—isn’t exactly healthy.
She tries to imagine the freedom. And it’s wonderful, so wonderful it might actually be worth the price.
How long would it take, though? It would have to be more than one night, she decides, because one night didn’t work last time. How long then? A week? Would a week of underwhelming, unsatisfying sex with Road be enough to cure her once and for all? It would be like an inoculation. She already knows he’s a selfish asshole in bed. She tries to imagine it, how badly she wants him, and then discovering that every time they were together he was a jerk.
And then she smiles, because the crazy thing is, it just might work.
“WHAT?” ROAD’S MOUTH is open, his expression incredulous.
“You heard me.” Blair leans in closer, hoping her voice didn’t carry. The restaurant has grown more crowded since they first sat down.
He glances at her drink. “Damn, babe, you must be hammered.”
“I’m . . . not. I know what I’m doing.” She gives him her best haughty expression. In truth, she is getting kind of drunk, and can’t help wondering if she’s going to be happy or horrified by this conversation tomorrow. On the other hand, if she hadn’t been drinking, she’d never have thought of this great idea, much less had the nerve to ask him.
Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) Page 12