Chapter 9
JAKE
T he Nevada state line appears in the distance as the sun begins its descent toward the western horizon.
We've been driving for hours, conversation flowing more easily than I would have expected after the intensity of our stop at the overlook.
Trish has been telling me about her years in Toronto, her journey from lifestyle journalist to social justice reporter, the challenges and satisfactions of her career.
I share more than I normally would as I drive, telling stories from my time in the Marines that I rarely discuss, the early days of building my security firm,even a few carefully selected anecdotes about my life before Valerie that don't feel like betrayal to speak aloud.
The ease between us is both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of how quickly and completely this woman has breached my defenses.
"Welcome to Nevada," I say as we cross the state line."Last leg of our journey."
Trish stretches in her seat, her movement drawing my eye despite my best efforts to stay focused on the road."Hard to believe we're almost there.It feels like we've been traveling for weeks, not days."
I understand the sentiment. Time has taken on a strange elasticity since Toronto, stretching and compressing in ways that have little to do with the actual passage of hours.
In some ways, it feels like I've known Trish far longer than our brief acquaintance would suggest.In others, the time has flown by too quickly, leaving me grasping for more.
"We should reach Foxfire Valley by early afternoon tomorrow," I say, returning to practical matters."The Heirloom Rose is expecting us."
"Have you stayed there before?" she asks.
"Once, during the initial security assessment for the wedding." I change lanes to pass a slower vehicle."It's impressive, very upscale."
"So I've heard. That waitress in Rustic Junction couldn't stop raving about it."
I nod, recalling Melody's enthusiastic description."It's Vegas-adjacent luxury without the Vegas crowds.Still has gambling, shows, the works, but on a more intimate scale."
"Jordyn's mentioned the wedding venue a few times, but she's been surprisingly tight-lipped about the details.Something about wanting me to be surprised."
This doesn't surprise me. From the security briefings I've received, the Kane-McCrae wedding is designed to be an exclusive affair, with several high-profile guests whose attendance hasn't been publicized.
The media blackout is partly for privacy, partly for security, something I normally appreciate in my clients.
"The Heirloom Rose has multiple wedding venues," I inform her."But the main one is impressive.Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountains, capacity for up to two hundred guests."
Trish tilts her head, studying me."You're really thorough with your security assessments, aren't you?"
"It's my job to know the layout of every venue I secure," I reply, perhaps a bit defensively."Entrances, exits, blind spots, staff access points, all of it matters."
"I wasn't criticizing," she says, her voice softening."It's impressive, actually. The attention to detail."
I glance at her, finding no mockery in her expression, just genuine interest."Thank you."
We fall into comfortable silence as the Nevada landscape unfolds around us.This part of Nevada offers a stark, open beauty with vast stretches of desert punctuated by rugged rock formations, all painted in shades of rust and gold by the setting sun.
"We'll stop in about an hour," I announce, checking the GPS."Small town called Sage Brush.Not much there, but there's a decent motel where we can spend the night."
"Our last night on the road," Trish observes, something in her tone I can't quite identify."Hard to believe."
I understand the sentiment. There's something about our time in the truck, contained in this bubble of privacy and proximity, that has allowed our connection to develop without the complications of the outside world.
Tomorrow, that bubble bursts.We arrive at our destination, resume our separate roles and all the practicalities we've been avoiding become impossible to ignore.
The motel in Sage Brush is exactly what you'd expect from a small desert town, basic but clean, with a distinctly 1970s aesthetic that's either charmingly retro or woefully outdated,depending on your perspective.
The woman at the front desk barely looks up from her romance novel as she hands over a single room key, clearly uninterested in our story or our relationship status.
Unlike Basic Plaines, there's no awkward negotiation over sleeping arrangements this time.We both know we'll share the queen bed, though what that entails remains unspoken as we settle into the room.
"I'm going to shower," Trish announces, grabbing her toiletry bag."Wash off the road dust."
I nod, watching as she disappears into the bathroom.When the water starts running, I sit heavily on the edge of the bed, running a hand over my face.
Tomorrow changes everything. Our carefully constructed bubble of intimacy bursts, exposing our fledgling relationship to real-world complications we've been able to ignore on the road.
And yet.
What we've built over these past days isn't easily dismissed or forgotten.The connection between us has grown roots, tenacious and persistent despite the rocky soil of our circumstances.I'm no longer capable of simply walking away from Trish, and I refuse to beat myself up about that fact.
The bathroom door opens in a cloud of steam, revealing Trish wrapped in a towel, her curls damp and clinging to her neck.My breath catches involuntarily at the sight.
"Your turn," she says, seemingly unaware of the effect she's having on me.
I grab my bag and head for the bathroom, needing the space and cool water to regain my composure.By the time I emerge, clean and changed into fresh clothes, Trish is sitting cross-legged on the bed in sleep shorts and a tank top, scrolling through her phone.
"Jordyn's been texting non-stop," she says without looking up."Apparently, there's some crisis with the floral arrangements that's thrown the entire wedding timeline into chaos.And she's dying to know exactly when we'll arrive tomorrow."
"We?" I raise an eyebrow.
"I might have mentioned I was getting a ride to Nevada," she admits."Though I kept your full name out of it, as requested."
"Thank you." I sit on the opposite side of the bed, maintaining a cautious distance."The fewer connections drawn between us initially, the better.From a security perspective."
She sets her phone aside, turning to face me fully."From a security perspective," she repeats, a question in her tone.
"Yes."
"And from a personal perspective?"
I meet her gaze directly. "From a personal perspective, I wish circumstances were different."
"Different how?" she presses.
"Simpler. Without the complications of your best friend marrying my client, without the professional boundaries I need to maintain, without the geographical challenges once this is all over."
She nods, absorbing this. "Simpler would be nice," she agrees."But maybe not as interesting."
That draws a smile from me. "No, probably not as interesting."
"Jake." She says my name softly, shifting closer on the bed."We have one more night before all those complications become unavoidable.One more night before this journey ends and real life begins again."
The implication in her words is clear, sending heat coursing through me."Trish--"
"I'm not asking for promises," she interrupts."I'm not asking for guarantees about what happens after tomorrow.I'm just asking for tonight. For right now."
She moves closer still, until our knees are touching where we sit on the bed, her scent, something floral and warm, enveloping me.Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, directly over my heart, which is beating faster than I'd like to admit.
"If you don't want this, tell me now," she whispers."And I'll respect that. But if you do..." She leaves the sentence unfinished, an invitation for me to accept or reject.
For a moment, I consider all the reasons I should refuse.The professional complications.The uncertain future. The potential for pain when this inevitably ends.
But then I look into her eyes, dark and luminous in the dim light of the motel room, and all those reasons seem insubstantial against the weight of my desire for her.
"I want this," I admit, my voice rougher than intended."I want you, Trish. Have since Toronto."
Relief and desire flash across her face, and then she's moving, shifting to straddle my lap in one fluid motion that takes my breath away.Her arms wind around my neck as she settles against me, the thin fabric of her sleep clothes doing nothing to disguise the heat of her body.
"Then stop thinking," she murmurs, her lips hovering just above mine."Just for tonight. Be here with me."
I respond by closing the distance between our lips, capturing her mouth in a kiss that contains all the hunger and need I've been suppressing for days.She makes a small sound of approval in the back of her throat, her body pressing closer as her fingers tangle in my hair.
The restraint I've maintained since Basic Plaines crumbles under her touch.
My hands move to her waist, slipping beneath the hem of her tank top to find the warm skin beneath.
She shivers as my fingers trace the curve of her spine, her own hands growing bolder, exploring the contours of my shoulders and chest with increasing urgency.
When we break apart, both breathless, her eyes are dark with desire, her lips slightly swollen from our kiss."More," she whispers, the single word a command I'm powerless to resist.
I shift our positions, laying her back against the pillows, my body covering hers."Tell me what you want," I say, needing her to be explicit in her consent despite the obvious desire between us.