Chapter 10 Mary
MARY
Everett and I don’t talk on the way down the hall, but it’s not the same easy silence from earlier.
It’s edging toward awkward now, both of us uncertain and on edge.
Or maybe I’m just projecting. I still feel a little off-kilter, like I’m walking through a dream.
It might have something to do with being in a town that I don’t even know the name of, or maybe it’s just that I’m anxious about missing our meeting and being stranded.
The client we were supposed to be meeting hasn’t responded to my email yet, and I don’t have a signal to call them.
It’s too late for a business call anyway, and it would be unprofessional to email them multiple times in a row.
I just hate the idea of falling through on plans, especially when my boss could find out.
He’s not the biggest asshole in the world, but he certainly doesn’t pull his punches when it comes to reprimanding employees.
I looked at the map on my phone briefly, back when we were in the diner.
We’re in some tiny town that I’ve never heard of before in my life, somehow even farther away from the city than Windy River is.
I probably couldn’t get an Uber out here if I tried, and it’d cost me an arm and a leg if something did come.
We’re well and truly stuck here. I hope someone can come get us in the morning, or that Everett has some other way of getting us back to the ranch.
The change of scenery when we make it to the room is enough to calm the breathless anxiety creeping up my spine, but my relief quickly evaporates when we step through the door.
I was hoping that a new space might lift the odd energy that has settled around us, but it just presses in even closer. The room is small, the bed pressed against the wall and yet still butting out into the small walkway.
A nightstand is wedged between the bed and the sofa, and an old TV sits, covered in dust, across from the sofa.
The window offers a view of the setting sun over the edge of the trees, gauzy curtains hanging on either side.
It doesn’t smell like cigarettes here, which I’m grateful for, and there’s a little bathroom tucked in the corner.
It’s nothing special, just a toilet and a sink and a single person shower stall, but it’ll be plenty for the night.
The room is tiny on its own, but with Everett in here with me, it feels so crowded I can hardly breathe. I feel like I’ll crash right into him if I so much as twitch a finger.
Everett heads straight for the window as I glance around the room, awkwardness weighing on my shoulders.
He pushes the curtains out of the way to check the seals, makes sure it’s locked, shoves up on it to make sure it won’t budge.
That tension only mounts when he turns to face me.
My breathing has been shaky since we started down the hall, but I can hardly force air into my lungs at all now.
My palms are tacky and I can’t look away from his face.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the look in his eyes is hunger.
There’s at least five feet between us, him standing by the window, me at the side of the bed. It feels both like miles and not enough room to breathe.
“I can take the couch,” I offer.
I’m not paying much attention to what I’m saying. There’s not that same feeling of panic at the thought of him leaving now, but I still don’t really want him to.
I also don’t want to consider what it means that I want him to stay.
It’s a bad idea.
He shakes his head.
“I’ll go down the street,” he says firmly. “You won’t sleep well on the couch.”
“Then you can take the couch,” I say. There’s a desperation building in my gut, and I’m too scared to find the source of it.
If I keep talking, maybe I won’t have to look at it too hard.
“I put the room on my company card. It’s not fair for you to have to spend your own money when it’s my car that got us stuck here. ”
“I can’t.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head again, something shifting in his eyes. He no longer looks confused at my behavior and slightly concerned. In fact, he’s no longer looking at me at all. This refusal is serious.
“That’s not a respectable thing for me to do, Ms. Bryce,” he says. “I’ll go down the street.”
My voice dies in my throat before I can correct him on my name, and just like that, I snap back to my senses.
It’s so sudden that it almost makes me laugh.
The room is just a room again, cheap cotton sheets and old, peeling paint.
Everett is standing a perfectly reasonable distance from me, and he did me a favor by ensuring the room was safe.
“Right,” I say, my voice sounding a little more steady. “Of course. Thanks for checking the room for me.”
He nods, grunting again, and heads for the door. I don’t really know what possesses me to grab his arm as he passes by me, and I can’t blame the weird flighty feeling I’ve been pushing down all night. He pauses when my fingers catch on his sleeve, and he shifts to face me, confusion in his eyes.
“Really, Everett,” I say. “Thank you.”
I mean it both as an apology for my behavior today and as genuine gratitude, but I can’t quite bring myself to say that. He’s been kind of an ass since I showed up, but I probably haven’t been any less infuriating to him. And still, he’s been respectful and kind, in his own way.
I step forward with a smile, intending to pull him into a light, friendly hug.
He ducks his head in an instinctive movement as my arms reach up to wrap around his shoulders, and his entire body stiffens with tension.
It probably would’ve been a little awkward, but a perfectly normal hug, except for the fact that I wasn’t expecting him to move his head.
I freeze halfway through reaching out to hug him, and that only makes things worse, because I somehow manage to trip over my own damn feet.
I trip, and I fall forward, right into him.
I fall forward right into his mouth, and our eyes blow wide with panic at the same time. Both of us go deathly still, staring at each other like deer in the headlights. It lasts for maybe two seconds before I manage to reboot my brain.
I intend to pull back and apologize profusely, I really do.
But when I shift, the rub of his lips against mine makes me gasp, and something in the air around us snaps.
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe Everett’s hands wrap around my hips before I twine a hand in his hair, or maybe I tilt my head and press closer to him before he lets out a shaky breath.
All I know is that he’s so hot he burns everywhere he’s pressed against me, and when his tongue flicks out to tease over my bottom lip, it feels like the entire world goes hazy.
The coarse brush of his beard against my cheeks lights up all of my senses, and I whine out a formless plea when his hands squeeze over my hips.
His palms are broad, and his fingers are strong, and it makes me feel so breakable that my head spins.
He tastes like mint when he slips his tongue into my mouth, and I melt into his arms as I kiss him, unable to stop myself.
I know it’s an awful idea, but Everett makes my entire body ache with want, and I’m so tired of denying myself what I want.
“Everett,” I groan into his mouth, digging my nails into his shoulder.
And just like that, my world is spinning again, empty space in front of me where Everett had been pressed so close only moments before.
I blink in shock as he pulls away, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. There’s heat in his cheeks, and his hair is mussed from where I’d been tugging at it. His pupils are blown out, but the look in his eyes is nothing but panic.
He raises a hand to his mouth, touching his fingertips to his lips as he heaves in a shaking breath.
“Ms. Bryce.” His voice is rough like gravel, and I do my best not to flush at the sound. “I—I’m sorry. Excuse me.”
I don’t catch his sleeve this time when he steps back because he’s practically running for the door.
He damn near knocks it down in his haste to get out of the room, and I still can’t pull enough breath into my lungs to even call after him.
My heart is hammering in my chest, and my brain is absolute mush, incapable of putting together a coherent thought.
I can’t suppress the twinge of hurt when the door slams shut behind Everett, but I also can’t do anything about it, too busy standing there in shock.
I bring my fingers up to my lips in an imitation of his actions.
They shake as they trace the curve of my lips, the sensitive skin still tingling from the heat of Everett’s mouth.
What the hell did I just do?
If my boss ever finds out about this, I’ll be back in the office filing papers for some bullshit job in less time than it would take me to apologize.
And that’s only if he decides not to fire me.
I stumble toward the bathroom, my head spinning with panicked thoughts.
I need to clear my head, and maybe to wash all my worries down the drain in the shower.
My lips are buzzing just from the memory of Everett’s mouth on mine, and I simultaneously want to both sink into that wonderful feeling as much as I want to bleach my mind clean of every thought of him.
I’ve been kissed before. Plenty of times, in fact. But it’s never felt like that. It’s never left me shaking and off-balance, and it’s never filled me with this insatiable, gnawing desire for more. A kiss can’t be worth losing my job over, not even if it feels like that.
Fucking hell, why does this have to happen to me? Of course, the only person who’s ever made me burn with excitement that way is the one person I absolutely cannot have.