29. David
29
David
T he dark screen of my phone mocked me.
Mother fucker. One day I would remember to charge my damn cell phone before it ran out of battery.
No, actually, as soon as I wasn’t behind the damn wheel I was going to order a dozen chargers. Car chargers. Wall chargers. Battery backup chargers.
I’d have them absolutely everywhere.
Hell, I’d even find a holster and keep one on my belt. That way I’d never have a dead phone again.
But right now, the damn cell was as dead as that carcass I’d just passed on the highway. The only thing I could do was keep driving.
I glanced at the clock on the dash.
The adopt-a-thon would be long over. But that was okay. Better, actually. I’d go directly to Heather’s condo and make her listen to me.
I’d explain everything, beg her forgiveness for my lack of communication those first few days, and then spend the night making it up to her— if she let me.
She was hella mad. Not one reply to any of my texts or voicemails. And there’d been a lot of them. But I didn’t expect anything less from my stubborn opinionated strong-willed girl.
God, I hoped she was still my girl when this was all over.
It was hard finding a parking spot but I finally managed it a couple of blocks away. I didn’t see Heather’s car but I didn’t let that dissuade me from striding up to her door.
Who knows? Maybe she couldn’t find a spot nearby either.
I rang the bell. It took a few minutes but finally the door swung in—and a man stood blocking the entry.
What the fuck? Was this one of the Navy SEALs? I evaluated him and decided he was too old and too . . . paunchy. But maybe he was the retired one?
Only one way to find out. “Uh, I was looking for Heather.”
He frowned then turned his head and yelled, “Honey, was the house sitter named Heather?”
“Yes.”
I finally let myself breathe again at the woman’s answer.
He turned back to me. “Yeah, sorry, she’s gone. We came back from vacation early.”
“Oh. Okay. Uh, thanks.” I turned before I had to admit to this stranger that not only had I not remembered Heather was just housesitting, but that I didn’t know where the fuck she did live if it wasn’t here. Or that she wouldn’t answer my calls so I couldn’t even ask her.
But I did know one thing. I knew where she worked. And tomorrow—shit, today was Saturday. The office wouldn’t be open tomorrow. Okay, Monday I was going to her office and I would make her listen to me.
And if she refused I wasn’t above holding her rooster hostage. I could make the ransom be her having to meet me in person and hear me out.
Until then, Drew was going to have to put up with my sorry ass living in his guest room again. I’d pick up a case of beer at the gas station on my way over. That would help soften my unannounced arrival and warm up my welcome, I was sure.
Besides, I needed to fuel up.
Maybe Heather had been right about my gas-guzzler. If I was going to keep driving from Texas to California, I should probably look into getting a vehicle that was better on gas.
Of course, if I continued to make this drive was completely up to Heather.
Christ, I hated not being in control. But I had a feeling if I was going to be with Heather, I’d better get used to it.
For her, I would. Hell, I’d do anything to be with her. I supposed I should have realized that sooner. Probably should have told her that too.
Lesson learned. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I turned into the gas station’s entrance and hit the curb when the sight of the tiny white car at the pump commanded every ounce of my attention.
My heart was pounding by the time I pulled the truck into a parking spot, abandoning my task of fueling up for one that was much more important—getting to Heather.
The car was empty. She’d be inside paying, like she had been the first time I laid eyes on her.
I leaned against the hood, arms folded, heart thundering, and waited.
She came out of the building so busy fussing with her purse that she didn’t look up until she’d almost tripped over the island with the pumps.
When she finally did look up, I knew the moment she saw me. Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open.
“Need gas again already? I thought these little wind-up cars went forever on a single tank.” I was acting cocky, like I owned the world, but inside I was a mess.
“David.” She breathed out my name. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
“Heather, I have to explain?—”
She rushed forward, grabbing my hands. “No. I have to explain. I’m so sorry. I thought?—”
“That my sister was a woman I was with when she answered my phone?” I suggested.
“Yes. And I’m so sorry.”
“No. Don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have called. Or texted. The minute I was able I should have.”
“You had other things on your mind.” She shook her head. “I jumped to conclusions.”
As we spoke, every sentence brought us closer together until she was standing between my feet, her body pressed to mine.
It was too close to resist. I gave in to the urge. I palmed the back of her head and brought her mouth to mine.
No kiss had ever felt as good or tasted so sweet. I wanted to keep kissing this woman for oh, say, the next hour or so, and then for the next fifty years.
But the car horn that rudely interrupted that fantasy brought me back to the present and to where we were standing blocking the pump as a line formed.
“Shit.” I wiped my mouth and let out a short laugh. “Let me pump for you. What kind of gas does this thing take anyway?”
“I like to put in premium.”
Of course she did. She probably believed the hype that it was better than the cheaper regular gas. I didn’t tell her differently.
“All righty. How much?”
“Twenty dollars, please.”
“You got it.” I drew in and blew out a breath, trying to settle into the mundane task of filling her tiny tank when all I wanted to do was hold her until I could believe again that she was mine.
I managed it, but all I could think about was how close I’d come to losing her. How lucky I was to get her back. And how I was never going to let anything—not a misunderstanding, or distance, or a dead cell phone—get between us again.
“Thank you,” she said, looking like I’d just given her the moon when all I’d done was pump some gas.
“No problem,” I said as I replaced the nozzle in the holder on the pump.
Meanwhile my pulse was still pounding.
I needed to get her in private. I didn’t care if it wasn’t to do anything more than hold her, I just needed to feel her there in my arms.
Of course, if she wanted to do more than cuddle, I could sure as hell get on board with that plan too.
“So, are you staying at Drew’s?” she asked.
“That was plan B. Plan A was to grovel at your door and then hopefully, if I was lucky, have you invite me to spend the night at your condo. That was before I found out you weren’t there.”
She cringed. “Sorry. The homeowners got back early.”
“So I found out.”
“So, you want to come back to my place?” she asked. “My real place where I actually live?”
And there it was. The whoosh of relief that told me everything was going to be okay. That made it feel as if I was finally able to take my first real breath in almost a week.
“Yeah. I have to fill up quick, but I definitely do.”
She let out a snort. “Nothing quick about filling up that monster you drive.”
I smiled, grateful all was forgiven. We were back to sparring. I was in my comfort zone.
“Hey, here’s an idea,” I began. “How about we put your toy car in the back of my truck? It’ll save gas and we can ride together.”
She planted a hand on one hip. “Ha, ha.”
I got a glimpse of the car waiting for our pump. The rest of our debate would have to be continued later.
Even if I was beginning to consider buying a different vehicle for what I had a feeling was going to be a regularly scheduled and often trip from Texas to California, I still enjoyed the battle. She was too fun to fight with. But not here.
Back at her place, our debates could continue to a natural conclusion. Bed.
“All right, missy. Move your toy car and let the other guy pull in. Then I’ll fill up. Wait for me to follow you to your place?” I asked.
“Of course.”
God, I loved that answer. It made me want to fist her hair and show her how much I loved it.
And I did exactly that the minute I got out of the truck after the much too long hour-and-a-half drive to her place.
When we finally did get inside, it turned out her apartment was almost as tiny as her car. But I’d get used to it . . .
To be with Heather, hell, I could get used to just about anything.