Page 12 of Nailed

Except for the moment when I’d nearly slid into that car. He could have said something after that instead of gawking at me after I stuck my hand out and practically grabbed Sarah’s… fuck.

He could have said something earlier, too, when I’d mentioned those videos. Why the hell had I done that?

But none of that was Sam’s fault. It was all mine.

By the time I dropped Sarah off at the hotel, I was deeply relieved to be almost on my own again. Even if the cab of my truck still smelled of her soft floral shampoo. I remembered that scent from when we used to spend more time together. Before I realized I needed to back the fuck away.

I took Sam to the motel downtown, which he’d booked from the road. Once I waved him off and he disappeared inside, I pulled out my phone and did the thing I hadn’t told them I could do. I emailed my committee head, seeing to it that Sam got a full pass to the conference—Saturday social and everything.

Guess the kid had grown on me.

When I got back to the hotel to check in, it was closing in on four.

And my thoughts turned immediately back to Sarah. I gritted my teeth as I crossed the creamy-marble lobby with its domed glass ceiling and fifteen-foot Christmas tree to the front desk, knowing she was somewhere on the floors above me. There was no way I could forget she was here. Not after today.

When her car had seized up, I’d had a moment of pure panic. Even though a quick assessment of the sound and the color of the smoke told me she wasn’t at risk, all those years tinkering with cars with my dad flew out the window as I envisioned Sarah engulfed in flames. It was only when I saw her terror that my own vanished.

That’s when the protector in me came out.

He was a strange beast, that protector self. I’d first met him in front of the girl I’d had a crush on in third grade, when the junkyard dog had slipped its leash. I still had the soft, pale scars on my forearm from where I’d let him bite me so she could run.

The protector had returned several times, especially when my sons were young and I was a teen parent defending my wife’s wish for a second after our first mistake.

The protector had failed me only once; when two of my teenage sons went down to the Quince to go fishing and only one came back—with a coterie of cops holding their hats in their hands.

That was why the protector rarely emerged now. The pain of his presence echoed that one time he wasn’t, and it was like a knife to my heart. But in that moment today, he was there.

It had taken everything in me not to pull Sarah from the car myself; to wrap her up in my arms, press her against my chest, and tell her I’d never let anything happen to her. Not now, not ever.

But that was this morning. This was late afternoon, and when I finally got to my room, the sun was nestled in the snowy pines out the window. It was too much time in close proximity to her, that was all.

There was a dinner tonight for the speakers, but I fully intended to skip it. With Sarah there, this was the only time I could safely move around the hotel without running into her.

I waited until just before the dinner had started to head down to the gym and spent the next half hour punishing myself with weights before showering and heading for the pool.

I glanced at the time on the wall as I crossed over to the diving board. Right about now, Sarah would be sipping cocktails and hopefully chatting to potential employers. I knew she was using this conference as her opportunity to leave, and I supported it. I wanted her to be far away from her shitty boss. And it had worked. I knew she’d made the decision to leave when she started standing up to me. Pushing back. Because until then, she’d put up with so much of my shit I’d nearly relented.

The pool was deserted, the scent of chlorine and brisk water cleansing my thoughts as I dove in. By my twentieth lap, I finally felt tired enough that I might be able to head back to my room, order a burger, and get to sleep in good time. I wasn’t nervous about my keynote tomorrow—I’d been giving talks like these for decades, but staying up all night agonizing over Sarah wouldn’t be great, either.

I was just pushing myself out of the pool when I saw her.

Fuck.

She saw me, of course, as I crossed over to the lounge chair for my towel.

“Jamie,” she said primly, though her voice had come out kind of quiet.

She wore a one piece with a deep V that went all the way down to her sternum. The soft curves of her breasts looked fucking delicious.

“Cooper,” I said, grabbing the thick white cloth and pressing it against my face. “What are you doing down here?”

“I could ask you the same. You’re not going to the dinner?”

“You should be there.”

She folded her arms, but of course, this only pushed her tits up. A drop of water ran down one, right where I’d love to run my tongue.

“Why is it that you never answer my questions?”

---