Page 11 of Drive Me Wilde

I fill a glass with cold water and slap together a cheese sandwich. I step out of the kitchen. Indiana pushes to sitting. She took out the ponytail, and her long, dark hair hangs around her shoulders. Some of the color has returned to her cheeks. I have to catch my breath before I can move toward the living room.

I find myself averting my eyes, not making eye contact. It took me a long time to get over Indi leaving town. I can't believe how easily all those feelings are rolling back. It feels like she never left, and she still hates me—just like before.

"Oh my gosh, mayo and cheese." She leans forward fast and winces at the pain in her side. It doesn't stop her from snatching the sandwich off the plate. First, she gulps half the glass of water. I settle myself into the chair next to the couch and will myself to look at her. Her eyes close with relief as she takes a bite of sandwich.

She rests back against the couch and chews another bite. "Heaven, thou art a cheese sandwich." She opens her eyes. "You know what would make this meal even better?" she asks hopefully.

I nod and return to the kitchen. Rio and her friends have vacuumed up most of the junk food, but there's a bag of cheese puffs at the back of the cupboard. I pull out the bag and return to the living room. Indi's picking up the second half of the sandwich. Her gaze flicks my direction, and that soul-healing smile appears. Again, I find myself catching my breath.

"Cheese curls!" she squeals. "Those are my favorite."

"I know," I say quietly enough that she doesn't hear.

I sit in the chair again. "So, Jones, you gonna tell me what happen—" My voice trails off as my entire focus is pulled toward her lips as she licks off the cheese dust.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"Uh, let's recap, shall we? You show up at my door?—"

Her eyes round, and she pauses the feast for a second. "Your door? You own the Dixon's house?"

"Yep. Rhonda and Phil moved to the East Coast. Phil has a brother out there, and they both retired and started a restaurant in New York. Apparently, it's a dream they always shared."

She licks the cheese powder off her finger, and I'm questioning my decision to provide her with such a fucking erotic snack food.

"How did you buy it? Did you rob a bank?"

I'm stunned at how hurt I feel that she instantly jumps to that conclusion. "Still the same, aren't ya, Jones? I earned the money to buy it. Not all of us grew up in homes filled with love, laughter, bedtime stories and a college savings account."

She lowers the sandwich and stares at me. "It's even worse to have that and then have it stolen from you." We've reachedthatsubject—the taboo subject, the one that solidified her hate for me.

I jump up. "I'll get you more water." I walk to the kitchen, put down the glass and lean against the counter to pull myself together. Ten minutes on my couch and all the emotions are back, picking at my brain, sitting on my chest like an iron anvil. I take a deep breath, fill the water and return to the living room. She's finished the sandwich.

"I'm sorry I jumped to that conclusion," she says without looking up from the glass in her hands.

"It's all right. I'm sure most people in town think the same thing. Just hurts more coming from certain people," I say pointedly. "Do you want another sandwich?"

"No, and thanks for that. It's been a few days …"

"So, you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Indi rests back against the couch. "How it started? Oat milk at the coffee shop. How it ended?" She waved her hand in front of her. "You're looking at it. It's a long, ugly story. Let's just say my luck ran out … big time. I can stay somewhere else if you don't?—"

"Don't what? Want you here?"

She shrugs. "Maybe I could stay at a motel. Wait. Never mind. I forgot that when my entire life got swallowed up by a black hole, it took my purse and debit card with it. I've discovered it is possible to survive on stale crackers, heavy aromas in a diner and a stranger's kindness thrown in for good measure." She scrunches up her nose as she pulls the blanket around her shoulders.

"Was it a boyfriend?" I ask.

"He's officially an ex-boyfriend, and really, I shoved him first. Just didn't expect him to shove back. I lost my balance and fell right into a rather unwieldy slab of granite."

I stare at her a few seconds, willing that notorious anger to climb back in its bottle. "He better not show up here."

Her mouth tilts to the side. "Still the same Jameson, eh? You can unfurl your fists. He's not coming here. I'm sure of that." Her long fingers cover a yawn. "What I really need—if you're willing to put up with me for a night—is a hot shower. Rain has been my only form of cleansing in three days, and it might have worked for Tarzan and Jane but?—"

I laugh. "I can set you up with a shower and a towel. I've got an in with the owner of this establishment. Wait here."

I walk to the linen closet and pull out two towels. I can hear music playing in Rio's room. I knock on the door. "Bedtime, kiddo." I go down the hall to the bathroom and do a quick sweep of the mess Rio left behind. I shove her dirty clothes in the basket and push all her glosses, combs and hair bands into a drawer.

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