Chapter 10
Bee
Now we’re talking !
For once, I caught myself before shouting out the first thing to come to mind, which in this case was, “Hell yeah!”
And actually, aside from a huge part of me that really loved the offer, there was a loud, nagging worry that wondered why he was concerned about my comfort at all. Was he genuinely that nice, or was he just doing his job? Was I that used to my lot in life that I couldn’t take basic human concern at face value?
His hat had been so warm that I wished I could shrink myself down and curl up inside it like literally any of the cats did with every single empty shipping box. His gloves too; when I slid my hands in, a part of me wondered if this was what holding his hands might be like.
I wouldn’t let myself fall into whatever trap this had to be. Surely, no man this good-looking could also be this thoughtful and protective.
It sent alarm bells off all over the place. Be careful, Bee, he’s using you as a means to an end, and he’ll forget about you when this was all over .
That being said, I really, really wanted him to come over.
I must have waited too long to answer, lost in the never-ending corridors of my mind, because he shifted and spoke up.
“Listen. I’m not trying to, uh … I’m not being … forward,” he said.
I bit my lip to keep from guffawing with laughter. Seriously, how could so many people in this town be afraid of him?
“For warmth?” I asked.
“For warmth,” he said at the same time.
I was still focused on the NYNB plan, but do you know what else new me would totally do? Snuggle the hell out of Owen Campbell. At least while I had him.
Owen didn’t look at me like that. Most men didn’t. It was a relief most of the time, this sort of “invisibility privilege” I had. It protected me from the worst. I was aware of how awful men treated women they found attractive—like those women owed them something. But this felt different and nice.
I would not make the situation weird like I always did.
I would keep my cool.
“Okay dokey, artichokey.” I patted the seat next to me with enthusiasm. Shivers wracked me, but these felt more anticipatory than cold-based.
He chuckled and didn’t curl his lip in disgust, so that was something.
“Right. So I will just go scooch on over to you then,” he said but didn’t move. He swallowed and eyed the booth where my hand patted again.
“Did you say ‘scooch’?” I looked up with my chin pointed down so he hopefully couldn’t see me fighting back a smile.
“No. It was something much more masculine and commanding.” He cleared his throat as he stood and stretched. He rubbed his hands together and tucked them in his armpits.
Was he nervous? Because of me? It wasn’t like I bit. Except for that one time earlier when I tried to bite him.
Owen went to the front of the tram, every step shaking us, and reached into a box built into the side. He pulled out a silver rectangle and flicked it out with a flourish.
“This is an emergency thermal blanket. It will help keep our body heat trapped,” he said, delaying the inevitable.
I was aware of how thermal blankets worked, but men like to feel useful, and I was too cold to point out his patriarchal shortcomings. Plus, I didn’t want to screw this up before it started.
Probably best if I didn’t talk at all.
A second later, his whole right side was pressed up against my left as his large arm encompassed me in the blanket. I grabbed one end to help wrap us up like a burrito. The thin material worked quickly except for my poor nose, but my teeth stopped chattering almost immediately.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. “I feel like a package of Pop-Tarts.”
Well, the not talking lasted roughly twenty seconds.
In my defense, being enveloped together like this, every sense was on high alert. There wasn’t much room left for critical thinking. His voice rumbled through me, causing a wave of much-needed heat. There was no way to inhale without smelling him. (I wouldn’t want to anyway. He smelled like a cozy pile of fresh-dried laundry.) His large body expelled so much heat that it felt like standing next to a space heater. He was so good-looking that even his profile made me blush. I couldn’t taste him, not without making it really weird, but I bet he would be delicious.
“Are you okay? Is this weird,” he said.
My head snapped to him. Had I been talking out loud? But his look was only that of cautious concern. I had to get my act together.
“Weird? No, not at all. I do this all the time.” It was best to let him think I was as experienced with touching as he was.
“You cuddle with men you don’t know to stay warm?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, like weekly. If not biweekly.” I never knew if that meant twice a week or every other week. “I am a total snuggle ho, fo’ sho. Don’t you?”
I was handling this so well, considering. Otherwise, he might think I was a total dweeb.
His chuckle was so deep it wasn’t audible. It just rolled through me like a silent tremor.
“Okay, good. Just checking,” he said.
Did that mean he was a snuggle ho?
“You’re probably used to this too,” I said, fishing for details on his life. I didn’t know much about him other than a few surface details, but I didn’t think he was dating someone. “I mean. Not in a sexy way. I’m not gonna say sexy. I just mean, you’re a bachelor in a town filled with many single people, and with all the tourists coming through, you probably have your fair share of dates. Deckard says they’re ‘thirsty.’ The tourists. Which I don’t really understand because we literally have water bottle filling stations all over town, but he knows more about that sort of stuff than I do. Unless he means because of the supposed healing power of the hot springs.”
Slippery Slopes was a town long before New Mexico was a state, and it has a long and weird history that draws a lot of the woo-woo crowds who swear that this is a place for the mystical and spiritual. Some even claim to see mysterious sightings, but they’re probably just rogue guinea pigs. Slippery Slopes was less cowboy boots and “hello, ma’am” small town and more “your aura seems off today, swing by my shop so we can charge your crystals.”
“It feels like I’m talking a lot. Am I talking a lot?” I asked.
“I’m not seeing anybody.” There was a curious flatness to Owen’s tone. I hadn’t specifically asked, but I was flooded with relief, nonetheless.
“Good. Cool. Not that this is a date. If it were a date, it would be the worst date ever, am I right?”
He shifted slightly next to me. Was that to put distance between us? Or to get closer? Maybe his butt was going numb from the cold too. “Are you seeing somebody?” he asked.
I was so glad we sat side by side so that my face was mostly pointed away. I couldn’t bear it if he was making fun of me. He had to know how alone I was.
“Oh, you know. I like to date casually. I’m not really steady with anybody right now.”
It wasn’t not true. Did people say “steady”? There was a beat of silence, and I waited to see if he would call me out.
“Not even Deckard Sparks?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Ha!” I cackled. I hadn’t been expecting that at all. “Deckard? No. He’s a great guy, but he’s just a friend. We’ve been friends for forever.”
“Gotcha. I think a lot of people assume you’re together.”
“People would have to know I exist to think that,” I said with a dry laugh. When Owen frowned with what might be concern, I quickly added, “No, I just mean that he’s always got some new lady friend.”
He frowned.
“You’re together a lot, and he’s sort of the town’s biggest catch.” He watched me carefully as he spoke.
“Biggest catch.” I rolled my eyes. For being such a catch, he had a heck of a time being caught. “Nah. Deckard and I don’t fit like that. There’s no spark. ” I snorted. “See what I did there?”
Owen’s face had moved close enough that when I looked to meet his gaze, he was right there, a breath away. His focus bounced between my eyes, a soft smile on his mouth as he nodded.
How did we get here? Two single people smooshed up close, talking about their single-ness. What a predicament.
“That’s good,” he said with a swallow.
What was good? What had I said? Something about sparks? I felt them now, shooting off like sparklers in the air around us. The plan had changed again. The bones were still there. I was getting to the top of that mountain, but this detour could involve some kissing. That might be okay.
My brain misfired. Abilities like speech and breathing short-circuited so that I could only stare up at Owen, mouth slightly parted. The comfort of him was unexpected. His hard edges pressing against me settled my agitation. My body naturally leaned into his like seeking warmth from the sun. Every nerve of my body lit up as his eyes moved over me.
His gaze moved over my face before drifting up and behind me. No, come back to staring at my lips. His gaze tracked something along the ceiling before it settled on my shoulder.
“I wasn’t totally wrong. There are bugs in the winter,” he said.
I was so confused by the random subject change. Weren’t we talking about being single and sparks and not how he tried to trick me onto this tram? “Okay.” It took me a second to catch up. “As long as it’s not spiders. Perk of a cat café. Nary a spider to be seen.”
His smile melted away as he sat back, and a growing trepidation simmered in me.
“You don’t like spiders?” he asked cautiously.
“Does anybody like them? With their hairy little legs and creepy bodies.” I shuddered.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” he said.
“Has saying that to somebody ever worked?” I ground out through clenched teeth. My body was coiled as a cat, ready to pounce.
“It’s just a little baby spider.”
My heart sank into my butt.
“Where?” My voice was a breathy whisper—my whole body was pumping with adrenaline already. Was it here this whole time? Was it watching us through its numerous eyes, waiting for the perfect time to attack?
“I’m going to get it. Just be still,” he said.
“Where?” I repeated, growling.
“It’s on your shoulder, but don’t move?—”
I jumped up with a shrill scream. My whole body convulsed as I shook off anything that might be able to stay on me. I could feel a hundred legs crawl up my neck and down my arms. Everything touching me was a potential spider body part. I clawed at the zipper at my neck. I couldn’t strip off this snowsuit fast enough. I threw off his gloves for dexterity and finally ripped off the jacket.
“Stop! Bee, you’re rattling the whole?—”
Owen was worried about a little shake of the tram while I was being eaten alive?
I didn’t listen. I just unzipped, unsnapped, and unbuttoned everything all at once. I shucked off my clothes faster than our resident world record-holder, Quentin Rex, shucked corn. (One of several of his world record titles.)
“Is it on me? Is it still on me?” I spun in a circle like Einstein, the fluffy ginger cat, had earlier today, only this was a matter of life and death.
I didn’t feel the cold. I wouldn’t worry about anything but the million little legs crawling down my spine. I groaned another loud sound of horror. His arms reached for me, but I couldn’t sit still until I was sure nothing was on me.
“I can’t see … you won’t hold … still …”
I stopped moving as Owen’s voice trailed off, his eyes widening. Whatever he’d been about to say melted from his mouth as he backed up with an audible swallow.
This was it. It was the end for me.
Like in a scary movie, the spider must be right behind me, growing larger, rising on its back legs, ready to attack, fangs dripping with venom. I spun around, arms wide, ready to defend myself, but there was nothing.
“What—Where did it go?” I spun in a full circle, arms bent at right angles and poised to karate chop.
When I turned back to Owen—hyperaware of every brush of air against my skin—it wasn’t fear evident in his gaze. It was pure heat. His pupils were blown out, his mouth slightly parted. His breaths came in little pants as his gaze moved slowly up and down my body. I could almost feel it—a tangible relief compared to the phantom spider tingles. As his gaze skidded and stalled on my breasts, my nipples chose that moment to remember the freezing space and poked hard against the thin material … so thin I almost didn’t feel it.
He blinked and seemed to come back to his body to meet my gaze.
Just then, I spotted a little fuzzy dot in the corner of the tram. I froze, ready to scream again, but the spider wasn’t having it. It crawled up the wall and out the tiny crack at the top of the door. I had no way to prove it, but I swear it lifted one of its little arms to flip me the bird before it squeezed out. The damage was done. The havoc wreaked.
“The little bastard just went outside.” I let out a long breath and shivered all over once again, but this time, the tension melted out of me. “That was close.”
Owen still wasn’t talking. Had I overreacted? Not even a little. His mouth opened and closed. His eyes spun up to study the ceiling. His focus was so intense he could be trying to burn holes through the roof.
“Owen? Man, my heart is racing.” I put my hand on my chest to find only bare skin.
“Your, uh, clothes,” he said.
Now it made sense. I was pulling a peep show in my bathing suit. “Yeesh. You act like you’ve never seen a woman in a bikini before.”
Owen’s jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck tense, eyes still trained on the roof, as he lifted a finger and pointed in my general direction. “I think, uh, in the jumping around the, uh, string got caught. You’re …” His face contorted in a wince.
I looked down to discover that, yes, in fact, in the chaos of my jumping around, the tie holding my top together must have come undone. Hanging out for all to see was my left boob. The headlight was on full display, and the right one was seconds from the same fate.
At least it was the better-looking boob.