Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
S unny took in the portrait of the redeemer, the Jesus Saves sign on the desk, and the cross tattoo on the old guy’s forearm—though it might’ve started out as an anchor. Gabe’s horrified expression told her there was only one way to play this.
“Do they have a room, honey?” She skidded over to him on her wet boots and clung to his arm.
“One,” he muttered, low. “And there’s only one bed.”
She slapped his biceps playfully and simpered up at him, squeezing his arm to telegraph her meaning. “Sweetie, now that we’re married, we don’t have to worry about that.” She didn’t have to try too hard to push the blush to her cheeks. Gabe’s dark-eyed stare made her forget the chill outside.
To the old guy at the desk, she said, “He’s not used to it yet. We just got married Saturday.”
His gaze drifted to Sunny’s hand on Gabe’s arm. Shit. If she’d planned this better, she’d have flipped one of her rings to her left ring finger. Too late now. “In Vegas. We didn’t even have time to get rings. He has such big fingers, you know.” Her cheeks went surface-of-the-sun hot, all on their own, at the thought of what Gabe’s big fingers could do to her in that one bed.
The guy was still squinting at them, so she dipped her chin and rounded her eyes innocently. “We wanted to avoid temptation.” She’d learned a thing or two from a religious colleague at DN-YAY in Ohio.
His face cleared. “Rightly so. Mister, if you’ll give me your license and credit card, I’ll get you a key.”
With a wide-eyed stare at Sunny, Gabe stepped away from her arm-hug and toward the man at the desk. Finally, she allowed the tension to melt out of her. Her muscles had seized up, even before the Mercedes had tapped that guardrail, and she’d concealed her trembling hands in her pockets while Gabe drove. Gabe, who hadn’t driven in almost ten years. But he’d gotten them safely to the motel, and soon they’d be in a warm motel room. She didn’t care if that one bed was twin-size. As long as the room had heat and they could wait out the storm in it, she’d be happy. If there was a crucifix in the room, she might even say a brief prayer of thanks near it.
When Gabe had the brass key in hand, they scurried out to the car, to escape either the man’s suspicions or the wrath of God, she wasn’t sure which. Sunny slid into the rapidly cooling car.
“What the hell was that?” Gabe asked, cranking the engine. “I was just about to tell him I was alone.”
“If he’d seen me, it would’ve been trouble. This is better.”
“Better?” he growled, easing the car across the snowy parking lot. “Now we’re stuck in the one room with one bed, expected to do honeymoon-type things. I’ll drop you off and head to the diner.”
“No!” She clutched his arm, making him swerve a little too close to a parked car. “The roads aren’t safe, not even for walking. We’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” He cranked the wheel, and the car slid into a spot, more or less, in front of the last door at the end of the building. “I don’t know what’s fine about this situation at all.”
She shoved open the door, displacing snow that came past the lower edge. “It’s totally fine,” she shouted over the howling wind. “Much better than that death road.”
After handing her the room key, he popped the trunk and lifted first her bag, then his. She slogged through the snow to the door and worked the key into the lock. The room smelled a little musty, like it didn’t get much use. But she welcomed the respite from the chill wind and blowing snow.
Gabe’s shoulders hunched. Was he religious, too? She had to lighten the situation, let him know she expected only refuge, not sex.
“Wait.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Aren’t you going to carry your bride across the threshold, Mr. Armstrong?” She tried to flutter her eyelashes at him, but snowflakes kept clumping into them.
He scowled at her and pushed inside. So much for lightening his mood.
She followed, grimacing at the clods of snow that fell off their shoes.
“Stay here. I’ll get a towel.” Sunny zipped off her tall boots and stepped out of them, leaving them at the door. She scurried in her socks to the tiny bathroom and grabbed a thin towel, which she laid down in front of the door. He untied his shoes and left them there for the snow to melt off.
The one piece of furniture in the room drew her eyes like a magnet. The bed was immense, and all Sunny could think was, how did they get it in there? It was shoved against the wall on one side, and a narrow path on the other side separated it from the closet and bathroom. There wasn’t even a chair in the room, just the giant bed. On her trip to get the towels, Sunny had ascertained that there was no bathtub for her to curl up inside, only a shower she wasn’t sure would fit Gabe’s large frame.
“So,” she squeaked, “it’s cozy.”
“I’ll go.” His shoulders huddled next to his ears when he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I can walk to that diner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” When she propped her hands on her hips, her elbow slammed into the wall. She rubbed the stab of pain. “There’s plenty of room here. I—I’ve got a deck of cards in my suitcase. And a bag of chips. It’ll be fun.”
One heavy eyebrow lifted. “Fun?”
“Okay, passable. But don’t leave me here.” What if he got lost in the snow? Or hit by a runaway snowplow? Or found something better to do than keep a washed-up actress company on her cross-country drive?
“Fine,” he growled, sending shivers over her body. What the hell was that? She rubbed her hands over her arms, smoothing away the goosebumps.
When he set their bags in the corner, she scuttled over and dug through hers until she found the deck of New York Bomb Squad playing cards and the sack of potato chips. It was a small one, but if it kept Gabe out of the storm, he could eat them all.
Gabe sat gingerly on the edge of the bed as if he were preparing to take flight. Sunny rounded the end and scooted all the way into the corner, giving him as much space as she could.
“What should we play?” she asked. “Gin rummy? Go fish? Poker?”
He froze at the last option. Maybe the first thought that’d passed through his brain had been strip poker, too.
“Go fish ought to be safe,” he said.
Safe. She leaned against the wall, glad they’d found shelter from the storm. But in the matchbox-size room, how could they be safe from the sexual tension that prickled across her skin, that kept him perched on the edge of the mattress? Maybe Gabe could figure out a way. If there was one thing Gabe was passionate about, it was safety.