Page 30 of Hell Bent
“Good. Like I told you, it’s casual. Family style.”
“Also a good thing,” I said, “since my holiday wardrobe is going to be jeans and a button-down shirt.”
“Owen’s too, because he never wears anything else. But you’re doing it because of those jeans of hers, I guess. Alix.”
“That would be it.”
“Mm,” he said, a light in his eyes that told me … something.
“What?” I asked.
“She’s not going to be in jeans,” he said.
“Yes, she is. You heard her. That’s what she has.”
“Fifty bucks says she’s not in jeans.”
“She’s making a point,” I said. “She’ll be in jeans.”
I droveeast in the dark, the city turning to outskirts and the outskirts turning to not much. The black river on one side, and the black hills on the other. Half an hour, and I was taking the exit for Cascade Locks, driving through blocks of small town, driving some more, and turning in at the sign.
KOA. Campgrounds of America. I pulled in and looked around. A dozen motor homes and trailers, lights gleaming yellow in the windows. Christmas at the KOA. I guessed it was as good as anyplace. I thumbed Alix’s number, and she said, “Hi.” A little breathlessness in her voice, and I relaxed.
“I’m here,” I said.
“Drive around to the very end,” she said. “I’ll open my door.”
Creeping along the paved track beside what looked like giant evergreens, and yes, there was a door opening, the light spilling out.
I owed Kristiansen fifty bucks.
She was coming down the stairs before I was even out of the car. I barely got around to open the door, and she was sliding in and saying, “Thanks.” And not looking at me.
I got in on my side and said, “Merry Christmas.” Looking at her in the light of the dome lamp and wanting to kiss her cheek pretty damn badly. Short jacket, heels, and what looked like some lace on her dress. A bottle of wine in her hand, too.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, set the wine on the floor, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear so I could see the tiny gold hoops that were all the jewelry she was wearing. She had very pretty ears: neat and tucked in close to her head, with those attached kind of lobes. I’d known that already, because she’d always had her hair pulled up before. Dark brown, it fell to just above her shoulders and was a little messy tonight in that way that’s deliberate, like she’d just got out of bed, and it had some wave to it and a whole lot of shine. The kind of hair you want to wrap around your hand.
She looked away, then, and said, “Follow this same road around to the exit.” Sounding shy, like I’d never heard her be.
I did, thought a minute, and said, “I wish you’d invited me in.”
“Yeah, right,” she said, “like I’m doing that on our first date.”
I grinned. “Has to be our second. You’re forgetting that burger.” She snorted, and I laughed and said, “I wanted a chance to look at you, that’s all.”
“Excuse me?” she said. “You’re going to be looking at me all night. All evening, I mean. Evening.”
“I meant,” I said, “when I’d have a chance to take all that in and tell you how pretty it is.”
“I couldn’t actually wear jeans.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “You could’ve. But you look very beautiful.” Because she did. The old-fashioned face made up like it had probably been the first time I’d met her, but I’d forgotten. Huge dark eyes, lined and shadowed to look even bigger. Skin like cream. High forehead, and on that mouth, with its full lower lip …
Red lipstick.Deepred. I knew I hadn’t seenthatbefore. I also knew she’d bought it for tonight. No other possibility.
She said, “I didn’t buy a dress because I watched your game yesterday. That’s not the reason.”
“Ah,” I said, not sure where this was going.
