Hearts Inn

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Hearts Inn Page 20

by Lilly R. Mason


  Rosalie thought the town was no sadder or happier than Ashhawk, its handful of restaurants far below the quality she was used to in Philadelphia. If they were going to go to a restaurant, at least she wanted to know the food was decent and there weren’t any bugs.

  “I’m kind of in the mood for pulled pork at the diner,” she admitted, thinking of the nice meal Shelley had recommended the day Tara broke up with her. Since Shelley was working the desk, they didn’t risk her seeing her with Alex and suspecting they were dating.

  “Sounds good.” Alex turned away from the carpets and drew near to Rosalie so they could walk beside each other out of the warehouse. She waved to her contact on their way out, calling out they’d be back another time.

  They drove back to Ashhawk quietly. Rosalie felt uneasy, but she wasn’t able to put her finger on why. Alex hadn’t done anything wrong; the trip to the carpet warehouse had been a sweet gesture. But Rosalie couldn’t shake her uneasiness. They slid into a cool, plastic booth at the diner and ordered before Alex made note of Rosalie’s discomfort.

  “You seem distracted,” she said. It wasn’t accusatory or resentful, just curious.

  “Thinking about Hearth. Renovating is going to suck.”

  “But you’ve got me.”

  Alex’s smile faded when Rosalie didn’t respond.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Rosalie admitted. “One day, I was minding my business in Philadelphia, and the next, I was the owner of a crappy hotel in—” She bit her tongue before she could say anything harsh about Alex’s hometown. “In Ashhawk.”

  Alex gave a slow nod. “Yeah, that’s a big change.”

  It was quiet while Alex chewed on Rosalie’s preoccupation.

  “You could always pull a Desert Hearts,” she said with a chuckle.

  “What?”

  “It’s an old lesbian movie. The main character moves to Nevada for six weeks to establish residency so she can get a quick divorce. The state pretty much made a business of helping women get out of their marriages.”

  “Does New Mexico have the same residency laws?”

  “No,” Alex said, amused expression fading as she took a sip of her water. “But that’s no reason not to fill your hotel with eligible divorcees.”

  Rosalie gave Alex a raised eyebrow and continued eating.

  After a quiet meal, Alex drove them back to the hotel. Rosalie felt so bogged down and overwhelmed, she felt like she was hardly in the same room as Alex, which made her feel guilty. She liked Alex and wanted to spend time with her. She just couldn’t get it together today.

  Maybe it was guilt fueling the suggestion they watch a movie in Alex’s room. She would have suggested they park out back again, but the expanse of the desert sky only added to her uneasiness. She followed Alex into her room, looking around at the drab, dated decor. Alex’s sparse belongings were stacked and stored neatly in the simple furniture. She hadn’t been in here since Alex moved in.

  Eager for any distraction, Rosalie decided to throw herself into the physical. They’d known each other for a while now, and it was probably time they had sex anyway. Maybe a physical release would trigger an emotional one. This way, she could show Alex her apprehension wasn’t about her.

  She kissed Alex and pulled her toward the bed. Alex followed eagerly, keeping her lips affixed to Rosalie’s face and neck as best she could. Rosalie pulled Alex by the shirt until they stumbled over the end of the bed, landing propped halfway up, with Alex trying not to let all her weight fall on Rosalie. The bed still had one of the crappy old mattresses, but it wouldn’t matter for Rosalie’s intentions. All they needed was a clean, supportive surface.

  Alex was never one for idle conversation, and now was no exception. Alex didn’t fill her mouth with words or eager giggles. Alex kept her eyes shut, leaning forward as though Rosalie were a spring she was drinking from after days in the desert. There was a desperate gratitude to the way her hands cupped Rosalie’s neck and waist, yet there was something tentative, too. She was worried about handling Rosalie too roughly, and it showed.

  Rather than tell her it was okay to be excited, Rosalie let her hands drift down over the seat of Alex’s pants, gripping and pulling her fully onto the bed. Alex inhaled sharply and surged forward in response. They maneuvered up the mattress as Rosalie pulled Alex’s tank up and off. Alex opened her eyes for the moment her mouth was free, smiling down at Rosalie before pushing forward again.

  Alex’s mouth was the busiest part of her body and the best thing Rosalie had felt in a long time. Alex’s ponytail fell over her shoulder and tickled Rosalie’s neck and cheeks.

  As they undressed, Rosalie focused on how Alex’s mouth felt: graceful, wet, intent on exploring her skin as thoroughly as possible. Alex’s tongue sent shivers down Rosalie’s back, making her wriggle out of the last of her clothes. It wasn’t until she was naked and panting under an equally naked and panting Alex she felt overwhelmed.

  She hadn’t done this in a long time. She’d had a fair amount of sex with Tara and other girls she’d dated, but it hadn’t been as alive as this, as unchoreographed and fresh and wanting. The volume of their breath was alarming against the sheets; it was as though all other sounds in the world had been vacuumed up, leaving only their mouths and lungs to fill the void.

  Alex’s mouth continued along Rosalie’s neck and breasts as her hips fell against Rosalie’s, securing her against the mattress. Rosalie should have felt eager, but Alex’s weight felt as oppressive as the desert heat outside. She was trapped under Alex’s body, Alex’s mouth slowly sucking her foundation out from under her. She panted harder, trying to get her bearings.

  Alex slid her hand up to cup between Rosalie’s legs.

  Rosalie panicked. This was not how she remembered sex feeling. Sex felt good and relieving. It shouldn’t feel like she might choke or drown.

  Alex slid her fingers through Rosalie, and Rosalie felt her head grow fuzzy, the confusing combination of fear and pleasure swirling through her, robbing her of her ability to speak or communicate. Her hands went stiff on Alex’s back, and she stopped moving, save for her heavy breathing. Alex touched her for a few moments before she slipped her lips off Rosalie’s breast, speaking for the first time since they’d entered her room.

  “You okay?”

  Rosalie gave a quick nod. She didn’t understand why she’d seized up. She felt trapped.

  “You sure?” Alex panted, squinting down at Rosalie.

  Rosalie couldn’t bring herself to nod again immediately, but she did.

  “We can stop if you want.”

  Rosalie shut her eyes tight and shook her head.

  It was only when Alex continued touching her she realized she wished she was anywhere but in Alex’s bed.

  Sleeping with Alex meant she was committing to staying in New Mexico longer than she intended to. Taking off her clothes and allowing Alex to touch her meant she was laying down roots in Ashhawk. She resented Alex for tricking her into bed as a way to anchor her to the hotel.

  Alex was chaining her to a crumbling hotel, and Rosalie was desperate to get out.

  But she couldn’t make up an excuse to get out of having sex now. Not with Alex’s fingers inside her and their clothes strewn across the room. Better to finish it off, she thought, and develop a plan for getting out of New Mexico once she was alone with her thoughts in Gran’s room later.

  She mumbled something about wanting it harder as Alex hovered tentatively over her. Alex paused before obliging, her hand and fingers moving with mechanical reliability into Rosalie. Rosalie felt a modest surge toward release and figured it was good enough. She wasn’t ready to make a full concession to Alex or Ashhawk or anything in her life. She tensed her whole body, trying to imitate some form of Kegel so Alex would find her faked climax believable. She let out a great gust of air.

  She exaggerated her panting for a minute with her eyes closed, hoping Alex had bought her performance. When she dared to open her eyes, Alex was looking
down at her with an unreadable expression. She wasn’t angry or upset, but she wasn’t pleased, either.

  “Give me a second.” Rosalie sighed.

  Alex studied Rosalie for a second before she lifted her torso off Rosalie a few inches.

  “You know...I’m good, actually,” Alex said. Her tone was neutral, and Rosalie wondered what she meant.

  “You sure?” Rosalie asked, concerned her hesitation had been obvious to Alex. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

  Alex gave Rosalie a muted smile, indicating that was the last thing she would agree to at the moment. “I’m sure.”

  She sat up all the way, looking around for her shirt. She stood to pick up some of her clothing. While Rosalie might have previously taken the opportunity to admire Alex’s body, instead she felt acutely aware of her own nakedness, spread out on the uncomfortable mattress, on display for Alex to see.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of Alex’s rejection. Clearly, Alex had picked up on something, but her reasons for stopping were unclear.

  “Did I do something you didn’t like?” Rosalie asked.

  Alex didn’t make eye contact as she pulled her shirt over her bare breasts. “No. Did I?”

  Rosalie had only enough resolve to gently shake her head. Alex hadn’t done anything specific she didn’t like.

  Alex pulled on her underwear and pants, not looking Rosalie in the eye. “I’m gonna go check on the vanities out back,” she said, moving toward the door.

  Without ceremony, Alex left Rosalie alone in dreadful silence.

  Feeling an urgent need to cover herself, Rosalie scrambled to put on her clothes. She knew she’d done something wrong but couldn’t clear her head long enough to figure out what it was and how to make up for it. She could have communicated something to Alex, but what could she say that wouldn’t sound preposterous? Alex had never been anything but careful and kind with Rosalie.

  She didn’t bother putting on her shoes as she closed the door to Alex’s room and slunk to her own, finding the small gray cat on her mat meowing at the door.

  Normally, she would have greeted the cat with some kind, high-pitched words, but tonight her shame had pressed all the sweetness out of her. She opened the door, blocking the opening with her foot so the cat couldn’t come in, and closed it behind her. She slipped out of her clothes again, feeling they contained too much of her evening with Alex. She showered and put on pajamas. Only then did she retrieve a can of cat food and peel off the lid, setting it on the doormat. The cat tried to slip around her arm into the room, but Rosalie held firm. She heard the cat meow a few times before it gave up and ate the food.

  For the rest of the night, Rosalie tried to distract herself with mindless TV. There were reruns of Light My Fire playing, but even that couldn’t dull the shame and embarrassment of her behavior. She knew she’d done something wrong. Sometime between dinner and Alex’s fingers sliding into her, something had changed. She wished she knew what it was. When the stinging dryness of her tired eyes overwhelmed her shame, she turned off the TV and curled into herself, hoping sleep would find her soon.

  As she tried to sleep, she heard a noise outside. At first, she thought it was the small gray cat again, but she realized it was farther away. The baby coyotes were calling louder than usual, their voices sounding scratchier and more like the cat’s.

  Wondering if the cat was still outside, Rosalie opened the door and stepped out into the night’s chill.

  At the end of the corridor, Rosalie saw Alex sitting in a chair, slouching with a beer in her hand. Rosalie was certain Alex saw her step out of her room. She was the only moving thing in sight. Yet Alex didn’t look toward her, letting her gaze bore out into the still, black night. Rosalie felt something crush in on itself in her chest, so aching and heavy she slunk back into her room, convinced she’d ruined the only good thing about Ashhawk.

  Chapter Eleven

  Poor Hospitality

  The next morning, Rosalie woke heavy with guilt and dread. It took more strength than usual to pry herself off her mattress and into the shower. She dressed, taking little joy in her coffee, trying not to think of the empty day before her. When she went outside, she saw Alex’s truck in the same spot it had been the night before, a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong. She wished she could take it all back, everything from the carpet warehouse to the disaster in Alex’s bed. But it was real.

  As she made desperate phone calls to real estate agents, she saw Alex walk through the parking lot a few times as she went from room to room, making repairs. She saw Alex speaking politely to a few guests but could see something heavy resting on Alex, too. She felt bad about it; she’d obviously hurt Alex. But short of a meaningless blanket apology, Rosalie didn’t know what she could say.

  The desert had never seemed as harsh as it did today.

  Until Rosalie got an unexpected phone call.

  “Hearth Inn, this is Rosalie.”

  “Is this Miss Rosalie Campbell?” a scratchy female voice asked.

  “It is.”

  “Oh, good!” the woman said, as though she was delighted. “My name’s Coral Hatfield. I’m a corporate real estate agent from All Nite Inn. Are you familiar with our brand?”

  Rosalie had seen a handful of All Nite Inns along the highway in the last few months. They were budget hotels catering to truckers and prostitutes.

  “Yeah.”

  “I heard you had a property you’re interested in selling. Is it still available?”

  Rosalie was stunned. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Great,” Coral said. Her voice was forcefully cheerful. “Do you want to set up a meeting?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Fantastic,” Coral said.

  They set up a meeting for a few days later, and Rosalie hung up with a confusing mix of emotions. She was thrilled a real estate agent would even take a meeting with her, but the crescendo of guilt she felt about Alex was growing deafening. She’d messed things up, she knew. But if there was still hope for getting out of Ashhawk without too much of a loss, maybe it was better if they didn’t get in any deeper. Maybe her mistake had been for a reason.

  They went about avoiding each other for the rest of the day. Rosalie almost thought they’d silently agreed to forget what had happened when Alex walked into the lobby around seven, heavy and anxious. She didn’t make eye contact like she usually did.

  “I have something to show you,” Alex said, hovering above the counter.

  Rosalie looked up, not sure if she should shut her laptop or if she’d be coming back to it in a minute.

  “Should I lock up?”

  “Sure,” Alex said.

  Rosalie closed her computer, taking her keys and phone with her, putting the sign on the glass door of the lobby before locking it behind her.

  Rather than leading Rosalie to the room she’d been working on, Alex took her behind the building. In the same spot where Alex had parked her truck a few days before, the same spot where Rosalie had met the small gray cat, the same spot where Rosalie had roasted marshmallows as a kid was a brand-new fire pit with a ring of beautiful sanded wooden stumps around it. It wasn’t glamorous by Philadelphia standards, but for Ashhawk, it was luxurious. Alex had taken great care to construct it for Rosalie.

  “Oh, wow,” Rosalie said.

  Alex cracked a sheepish smile as she leaned over, plucking something from behind one of the stumps. She produced a sweaty brown bottle and offered it to Rosalie. Rosalie reached for it, grateful, before Alex bent over again to pick one up for herself.

  Rosalie wasn’t sure what Alex had intended, though she was grateful Alex had made a gesture at all. She watched as Alex used the bottle opener on her keys before offering to open Rosalie’s.

  Rosalie shivered as she stood there waiting for direction from Alex. Rosalie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. Alex took a seat, leaning forward on her elbows as she looked into the fire pit. There was wood but no flame.

  “I
figured I’d wait to light it.” Alex nodded toward the perfect ring of brick.

  Rosalie nodded, still standing stock-still outside the ring of stumps. It would have been silly to light the fire, as the sun was still up and it was still almost too hot to be outside. Only the coolness of the beer in her hand made it tolerable.

  Alex looked up at her. “Are you gonna sit?”

  Rosalie lurched forward, feeling foolish for thinking her feet were stuck outside the ring.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  Alex let a smile grace her face for a second, looking up from under her brow at Rosalie before focusing back on the fire pit and the beer in her hands.

  Rosalie perched herself on a stump next to Alex, knees pinned together.

  “I used to roast marshmallows out here with Gran when I was little,” Rosalie said.

  “I know,” Alex said. “I figured you’d like it fixed up for company.”

  “I don’t have company,” Rosalie said on reflex.

  As she said it, she regretted it. Alex’s gaze bored into the brick, and she hoped she hadn’t offended. She could have added Except you, but the lump in her throat rose too quickly, and she took a swig of beer to combat it. “It’s nice,” she managed. “Thank you.”

  Alex gave a stiff nod, leaning farther forward on her elbows. Rosalie sat straight, knees and head turned toward Alex, unsure what to do or say next.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Alex said. “I shouldn’t have pushed you the way I did.”

  “You didn’t push me,” Rosalie said, surprised Alex was taking any blame. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “But I went along with it, even though I knew you were uncomfortable.”

  Rosalie realized how transparent she’d been and felt ashamed. “I wasn’t uncomfortable with you,” she offered.

  “That’s good to hear,” Alex said, still looking nervous.

  It was quiet, and Rosalie knew she owed Alex whatever explanation she could muster. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this place.”

  “What do you want to do?”

 

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