Page 65 of No Interest in Love

It’s that I’m there for the ass…because I am one.

Something shuffles outside the door, jolting me back from the freezer.

“Hello?” I call out, and I go from being in a drama movie to a horror film.

Nothing. I prick my ears and crack the door open, ice bucket still in my hand in case I need to knock someone out with it.

The parking lot still looks dead. Lights are all off or shades closed in the occupied rooms. I slowly walk out, take another look around, and then shrug. Guess I’m at the point of insanity when I start to hear thi—

Arrooo! Ar ar arrooo!

What in the blazing hell? My feet tangle up a tiny bit in my haste to get back to the confines of the ice room. I can put up a fight against a person, but no way in hell can I take on whatever wild animal is out here.

I shut the door and back up. Whatever’s howling keeps it up every two or three seconds, so I lean against the wall and wield my ice bucket in case it’s needed. It’s probably a bear. Do they have bears in this part of Missouri? Or maybe it’s a wolf. A werewolf. Or Sasquatch. That dude is real.

After two minutes or so, I seriously regret not just racing back to my room. My movie imagination sometimes gets the best of me. I almost call myself a puss.

I stare down at the bucket and relax, and I’m taking a step toward the door when someone runs smack into the glass and my stomach leaps out my throat.

“Shit!” I scream in full-on banshee. My feet don’t work again, tripping and pulling me down to my ass, full ice bucket following. The cold hits my hyperaware nerves, and I swear to God I almost piss myself.

The light turns on overhead, and I frantically shove the ice off my torso and scramble backward. Shay’s bright red glasses come into focus, and I hear my sledgehammer heartthudinto the pit of my stomach in relief.

“Motherf…” I mutter off on a breathless sigh. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Iscaredyou?” She shuffles in close, and my heart picks up again—just slightly. “I saw you leave your room and then—”

Arrooooo!

“Yeah. That.”

I scoot back, shuffling to get to my feet. She offers her hand, and though I feel like I’ll pull her to the floor with me, I take it. Our palms make a softklop, and I lose my head again. She’s stronger than I give her credit for. Her hands are small but firm. The glasses she wears, those ridiculous glasses, slide down her nose the smallest bit as she looks down at our clasped hands.

And for the first time since I’ve known this woman, I notice her nails.

A stupid thing, really. To notice fingernails. But it seems that spending every hour for a week with a person leaves you open to noticing that type of stuff. All her nails are trimmed, smooth, shiny…except for one. And that one nail on her pinkie is gnawed down, paint chipped, and I get that knocked-out feeling again when I realize that I like it. I like it a lot. I think it’s adorable as hell that she aims for perfection, but there’s that tiny space left for chaos.

I want to be her chaos.

We’re standing now, and I’m not sure how we got that way. But she lets go of my hand and my skin feels way too hot for someone who just got covered in ice.

“Do you know what it is?”

I blink. Shake my head. Kick the ice on the floor toward the drain.

“Sasquatch,” I answer.

“Joking is your go-to, isn’t it?”

“Sasquatch is no joke.”

Her barely there smile makes an appearance. “Well, when it stops, get back to your room.”

She peeks out the glass at the door, eyes searching the parking lot. Wait…

“Did you come out here to get me?” I smirk, crossing my arms. “I’m no damsel in distress.”

“Oh yes, because you looked so ready to win a fight.” She nods to the floor where my bucket is.

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