Page 52 of No Interest in Love

I’d say, “Didn’t know I fell asleep with a grizzly.”

And she’d respond with, “A grizzly and a jackass, sitting in a tree.”

I’d ask her with a cocky grin, “You saying you want to kiss me?”

“Don’t you still have cheesy wiener breath?” she’d say with a sexy lift of her eyebrow.

I’d shake my head, lean up, but keep my hand on her leg. With a nervous grin instead of my arrogant douchebaggery, I’d tell her, “See for yourself.”

If I’m lucky, she wouldn’t say anything. She’d sit up, grab my face, and…

“Good afternoon, passengers. It’s just about threeP.M.central time, clear skies at our next stop, Kansas City. We’ll be arriving within ten minutes, so please prepare for exit. If you need assistance, please look to our staff located at each aisle doorway. Ticket checks will be conducted before our transfer route to Chicago. Thank you for riding Amtrak. We hope you enjoyed your stay.”

Then the blazing sound of the train horn reverberates around the room, and Shay shoots upright, slamming her head on the overhead light. When she catches sight of me, she flails backward and overcorrects, and I have to reach out and grab her before she lands hard on the train floor. My hand snags her back pocket while she scrambles for anything to keep her on the bed…which happens to be Woody himself, who almost shoots off right then and there in his overexcitement.

I let out a strangled laugh, trying to hoist her back up. “It’s not a handle,” I joke, and her eyes bug right out of her head and she lets go. There’s a loudriiiip, then athunk. Shay’s gone, and the only thing I have left is the back pocket of her jeans.

Shay makes a noise I can only describe as a constipated bear growling in the woods, and I lean up on my elbow, peering down at her sprawled-out figure on the car floor.

“Sanka, ya dead?”

“Yeah, man.”

I grin at her quotingCool Runningswith me, then she rolls onto her stomach, and I bite my fist to keep from laughing.

Her back pocket is missing, since it’s currently in my right hand, but the force of the tear ripped her jeans, and now there’s a nice view of her upper thigh and the bottom half of her white underwear.

“You want to ask for my pants now?” I ask, and her hand flops to her butt, and when she realizes what’s going on back there she flips around, neck blossoming red as she hides her ass from me.

I push myself off the bed, being careful as I make my way down to her. She leans against the door, head falling onto her knees as she pulls them up.

“This. Is. A. Nightmare,” she mutters into her now-ruined jeans. I hold the pocket out to her.

“We could tape it back on.” I offer. She smacks my hand away, looking up with a hint of a smile on her lips. But it’s not her lips that I’m looking at for long. While she slept, her hair covered most of her face, but now that I’m getting a good look…

I reach up and smack the overhead light switch on the wall. The bridge of her nose is bright purple. Under her eyes looks like she’s been bludgeoned with a sledgehammer.

“Ah shit…” I mutter, nearly reaching out to touch her but too afraid to damage her more. “Are you okay?”

She kinks her neck from side to side. “Think so. I’ve fallen out of bed before.”

“That’s good…but I was talking about your nose.”

She gives me a look like I’m spouting Greek, then nudges me out of the way to look into the mirror over the pull-out sink. After about ten seconds of staring, she lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m going to be a walking bruise by the time we get there.”

“I think you already are.”

She’s not amused by my comment, but honestly, neither am I. That probably hurts like hell. And as I’m looking at it I feel hot smoke creep up the back of my neck. I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing her bruised and in pain. Even knowing that it came from crashing into a toilet.

She shakes her head at her reflection, then turns to me, gesturing for her glasses, which she left up on the bed. I pray they’re still intact as I swing my arm up to grab them for her.

“Next time we share a bed, you get the edge,” she says, sliding her glasses into place. She’s laughing, and it’s dousing the unexplained flames going up my neck. I avert my eyes from her bruised nose and scratch the back of my head.

“You want to share a bed again, huh?”

“Hypothetical ‘next time.’ ”

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