Page 57 of Anywhere with You
“Okay,” I said and followed her, my attention still torn between the sky and Cara.
Chapter Twenty-one
Was I dense? That was the question I went to sleep and woke up with, Cara breathing deeply beside me under every blanket we could find.
I mean, I was undeniably dense. Cara and I had been through the demolition of two marriages this year. We were stuck in a crappy motel several states away from home. And while I liked Cara…oh, I liked Cara. I liked her outrageously. I liked her like food and breathing.
The feeling came over me like going underwater. I thought I was just dipping my toe, but no, I was submerged.
I cared about her in a way that came with a whopping dose of attraction, so obvious that I didn’t know how I’d managed to hide it from her. Maybe I hadn’t.
I vividly remembered every time she’d touched me, in the cave dwellings, in the elevator, at the Grand Canyon, even taking the keys from her hand at the garage, as though without my knowing, my own memory had highlighted those moments for later study.
I watched her long, dark eyelashes, the way her hair had stuck to her face in dark curls and had gotten flattened against the pillow, the way her incredible lips parted in sleep. My whole body ached to move closer to hers.
“Can I kiss younow?” I whispered.
Her eyes didn’t open, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “I haven’t brushed my teeth. Believe me, you do not want to.”
We opted for diner leftovers for breakfast, then had an hour to kill before the auto repair shop opened.
It was nice, in a way, not to spend the whole morning driving. Istretched every muscle in my body, peed as often as I wanted to, and lounged around with my guitar.
I played a parody of “Pocketful of Sunshine,” slowing it down and playing it mournfully. Cara loved it and recorded a clip for our Mesmio. I promised to screw up some of her other favorite songs, for the sake of social media.
And I watched her move around the room, fix her hair, play on her phone, stretch out on the bed. I watched her walk and bend and turn. I watched her arms and her ass and her breasts and the lovely curve of her cheek.
“Stop,” she said.
“Totally not my fault,” I said, grinning and trying to tear my eyes away from her body.
My phone rang before we left the hotel. “Just a second,” I told Cara, returning to the room. “It’s my parents.”
“Honey! Your dadi ma learned how to use Mesmio so she could watch your videos,” Dad said as soon as I answered the phone.
“Really?” I asked. “Grandma Singh is so awesome.” She was also approaching one hundred years old. She shared a birthday with Eartha Kitt.
“Yes!” Dad said. He was full of exclamations. “She says that you are beautiful and that she is so glad that you’re enjoying your trip, but that she likes watching cooking Mesmio reels more.”
I laughed and turned to Cara, wishing that I’d put the call on speakerphone. She waited in the doorway, looking at me with a slight smile in her eyes. And…a slight heat? It might have been wishful thinking. “That’s wonderful,” I said to Dad. “Tell her I’ll try to learn how to cook so my videos are more interesting.”
Cara laughed, too, nodding in agreement.
“I will,” Dad said. “I told her that she should be the one making videos. Those white yoga girls would love to learn real Indian cooking.”
“Dad!”
“What? I married one. Do you think your mother would be offended by being called a white yoga girl?”
“No, but she’s gotten used to you. For everyone else, let’s err on the safe side of not calling people that. How aboutIndian cuisine enthusiasts?”
He blew a raspberry. “You sound like your mother. You look like her, too. Where are my genes, hmm?”
“I look like you, too, Dad. We have exactly the same hair.”
“And you went and dyed it purple so you could be cooler than me. Thanks a lot.”
“I have extra dye if you’re interested.”
