Page 45 of The Fire Walker
“Dunno. Check out a baseballgame.”
“Is it baseballseason?”
“No idea. If it’s not, maybefootball.”
There was a rustling over the line and the sound of a door closing. “You shouldn’t be alone,Dee.”
I knew she was referring to that comment I’d made about silence. The comment that gave away just how borderline I was. I wasthatclose from crying, and the moment I did, my manly reputation was out thewindow.
“It might be different for me, Zo, but maybe different is exactly what Ineed.”
“You’ll be in Denver for awhile?”
“You’re not fucking up your trip to comehere.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll talk to you later, hot legs.” Time to sign this convo off before it gotworse.
“Okay.”
I pressed the end call button and tossed the phone back onto the table. I knew Zoe meant well, but this whole thing was beginning to grate on my nerves. Talking about it endlessly was like rubbing sandpaper on an openwound.
Maybe next time, I should stick to a textmessage.
The next day,after wandering around Denver and finding nothing that held my interest, I went back to my seedy motel room on the road out of town with a bottle of scotch under one arm and a bag of greasy takeaway. I was just like one of those down and out types from the movies. I hadn’t shaved in a week, and I was beginning to look the part, aswell.
Staring up at the ceiling, feeling the slow burn of scotch in my stomach, I almost considered praying. Instead, I sat up and took another mouthful, deciding getting drunk might do thetrick.
Denver wasn’t doing it for me. I had to find the next place, and this time, I probably should plan where I was going. Kansas City was the next obvious choice to go from here. Maybe from there, I could find my way to Nashville. I wasn’t that into country, but music was what fed my soul. I would try for Nashville, wherever the fuck thatwas.
Knocking interrupted my downward spiral, and with a groan, I got up to see who the hell would want to talk to me. Yanking open the door, I let out a sharp hiss as my eyes collided with none other than Jessie fuckingWare.
What. The.Fuck.
She slapped her hand on the door, pushed it out of my grasp, and just walked right in with a waft of jasmine and vanilla. No hello. Nonothing.
Despite my thumping heart, I felt anger simmer, and I slammed the door closed. Turning to face her, there was only one thing I wanted to do. The only thing my body would let medo.
Stepping toward her, I grasped both sides of her face and shoved her back against the wall, my mouth over hers. Her hands fisted into my shirt as I kissed her with everything I had, her body pressed hard into mine. She tasted sweet like lust and cherries.Always with the fuckingcherries.
Her lips were on mine, kissing me back, and it would’ve been so easy just to keep going, to let her consume me again, but remembering what she’d done to me, I tore my mouth from hers and stepped away until my back hit the oppositewall.
Shit. Fuck.Ass.
I ran a hand over my face, the stubble I’d neglected to shave off for the last week rasping against myskin.
I’d hoped it was out of my system after that, but it had just added fuel to the fire. I was hard, wound up, and drunk asfuck.
“Dee…” she murmured with her sexy French-Canadian accent, and I felt my cock twitch.Fuckingtraitor.
“What do you want?” I snapped. I knew what I wanted, but she wasn’t going to get it unless she wanted it,too.
“I…” she began, but she closed her mouth and just stared at me with her fucking doeeyes.
“You came all this way, and that’s all you can say?” I said angrily. “You ripped my fucking heartout.”
“Dee…”
