Chapter Ten
TRISTEN
Disoriented and dripping with sweat, I snap upright in a panic and immediately crack my forehead against the low ceiling. With a hiss, I scan the strange cat-themed room in confusion before my brain catches up.
Reese. Texas. Motorhome.
Sunlight pours in through the tiny window by the overhead bed, heating the small space to an uncomfortable temperature.
I swing down to the main level, where the air is ten degrees cooler.
Stretching, I massage the kink in my back.
The bed doesn’t use a real mattress but a folding piece of foam, which, according to my back, is only one step up from sleeping on the floor.
I shuffle to the fridge and grab a cold bottle of water and chug it. The liquid pools into my empty stomach, and it growls in response, starving for something more filling.
Before I head outside, I peek into the bedroom at Reese.
Resting on top of the covers, she didn’t even make it to the pillow before passing out on her stomach, her limbs stretched out mid-crawl.
She purrs softly in her sleep, her mouth ajar and her blonde hair tangled around her, reminding me of when she slept on me hours ago on the bus.
The urge to climb in beside her and sink into the comfortable bed is tempting, but that would be well over the line of friendship.
The rigid overhead bunk will have to do.
While I was cooking in the window, it’s icy in the back room with the air conditioning vent pointing right at her.
I snatch a nearby blanket with kittens playing with yarn and carefully drape it over her.
My stomach growls again, and I stroll back out into the living room, wondering where I should sit when both the dinette and couch are unusable. Fixing both of those should be our top priority.
Slipping outside, I sit at the worn picnic table and order pizza delivery from a local joint a few miles away. I also make sure to keep my promise and ask for the biggest cup of coffee they can deliver to the campsite for Reese. It’s best to be prepared for a hangry Reese when she finally gets up.
It’s warmer here compared to the cooler Colorado temps.
Still an hour from sundown, the campers are enjoying the last bit of light, kids riding by on their bikes and the air filling with the delicious aroma of hamburgers and hot dogs.
Some even lounge outside, watching college sports on their flat-screen TVs.
“Camping” is definitely a loose term. More like bringing your motel room with you versus becoming one with nature.
Isn’t that the whole point? To escape the everyday and modern conveniences?
Usually when I go, I string a hammock and stare up at the stars and fall asleep to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.
A golf cart zips past, the family still wet from the pool. Their laughter and voices echo behind them.
Watching the families, I see the appeal of RV life.
The tranquility of nature is replaced with the ease of camping, allowing people to go more often and create more memories.
A dry, warm bed no matter what the weather is outside.
Having the comfort of home at my fingertips.
I’ll admit, having my own indoor toilet is a thousand times better than using leaves in the wilderness.
Buzzing sounds in my pocket, and I contemplate sending it to voicemail until I see Nicole’s name on the screen. Squeezing my eyes closed, I take a deep breath and hope for good news about my anime audition I submitted a few days ago.
“Hello?”
“Tristen, my darling, how are you?”
I cringe at the endearment.
“I’m fine . . . still on that vacation I told you about.”
“Good for you. Rest that golden voice of yours because I have another audiobook contract on my desk that you’re gonna flip over.”
“Is it a mystery? Sci-fi? Anything but—”
“Yes, another romance. Isn’t that wonderful? This time a beach romance that will be launching this summer by Vivian Laundale. Did I pull through for you or what? Tristen, darling, did you hear me? Or are you still in shock?”
Another romance? Disappointment settles in like a weight around my shoulders. I know I should be appreciative since it was what helped me make a name for myself. But that doesn’t mean I want to proclaim my love to a new character every month.
But money is money. I’ll need every nickel for the moving expenses.
“Uh, I don’t know who that is,” I admit.
“Are you kidding me? What am I going to do with you? It’s like you grew up under a rock. Bestselling romance author Vivian Laundale, who wrote Starlight Kisses that was in theaters last summer? Trust me, she’s a big deal.”
“I believe you.”
“Well, she selected you to read an excerpt of the book. I’ve already emailed you the information, including the nondisclosure agreement. How soon do you think you can have this recorded?”
“Depending on how long the section is, probably Monday.”
She sucks in a breath. “That long?”
“I did mention I was on vacation, Nicole.”
“You did . . . I just thought this opportunity would have lit a fire under you. Having this in your portfolio would probably impress the network studio’s casting director.”
The beginnings of a headache tingle across my brow. This hobby keeps demanding more than I’m able to give.
“I’m not promising anything, but I can read over the offer after dinner.”
“That’s my boy,” she says, as if she wasn’t only five years older than me.
“Any word on the anime callback?”
Her long sigh doesn’t bring me any comfort.
“Nothing yet, but no news is good news. It means you’re still in the running.
As soon as I hear something, I’ll give you a ring.
Don’t worry, even if you don’t get it, I have plenty of authors beating down your door, my darling.
Are you sure you don’t want to take a week to come out to LA?
There’s a romance book convention I could—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off before she gets her hopes up. My eyes drift up to rest on the vintage motorhome. “I’m happy where I am right now.”
“You gotta schmooze at some point.”
Frowning, I rub my pounding pulse between my eyes. “When the time comes, I will.”
“Oh, I have another call coming, my darling. Hurry and check your email. Talk soon.” The call ends before I can respond.
Tapping my phone on my palm, I debate taking another job on my already loaded schedule.
But Nicole hasn’t steered me wrong. She has an instinct when it comes to these things, sensing life-changing job opportunities with startling accuracy.
Including when she flew all the way out to Rocosa to convince me to hire her as my agent.
Everything happened so fast after that. It’s like I’m caught up in a whirlwind, and I’m still hanging on to the safety of my old life. I can’t keep trying to live two lives. It isn’t fair to me or Nicole.
But the question is, what do I really want?
Or maybe the question should be, where does God want me to be?
I send Uncle Ted a quick text to make sure he survived the Friday night chaos when the pizza delivery car pulls into our campsite. I’ve never been so excited to see a stack of pizza boxes in my life. Delicious, greasy goodness that I’m already salivating at the thought of devouring a slice.
“This is the biggest cup we have,” the teenager says with a bored cadence. He hands me a medium-sized Styrofoam cup, steam swirling from the hole in the lid.
“Perfect.” I hand him a cash tip.
It’s with pure restraint that I don’t immediately inhale half a box before the teen drives off. Cracking open a box, I grab a slice, the stringy fingers of cheese clinging to the rest of the pizza. Right before I stuff half the thing in my mouth, I hesitate and glance at the door behind me.
Taking the slice with me, I head inside and into the bedroom where Reese is sprawled out in a deep sleep. If she doesn’t get up now, she’ll be up all night . . . which means I’ll be up all night listening to her.
“Wakey, wakey,” I coo, waving the pizza by her face.
Like a fairy tale princess awakening from years of slumber, her eyes flutter open, and her nose twitches as she picks up the pepperoni scent an inch away. A light bulb flips on as her eyes widen, and she sits up on her knees, locked on her pizza target.
“There’s more—hey.” I jerk the slice away and frown at the Reese-sized chunk removed from the end. “This was my piece.”
She chews slowly, staring up at me with her sleepy, innocent eyes. How can she be such a pain and absolutely breathtaking at the same moment?
Her blonde hair is tangled in a few places, and the oversized Cliffys t-shirt—wait a minute, that’s my black t-shirt twisted around her torso.
Before, she had been adorable, but now, the meter is off-the-charts smoldering hot.
The grease from the pizza shines on her lips oddly as delectable as the cotton candy she had on before.
Pizza lip gloss? Lord help me, there’s something wrong with my brain.
I clear my throat and try again, forcing my gaze from her lips. “I ordered pizza. Come outside if you want some.”
And I leave before I do something dumb like kiss her again.
She joins me outside still wearing my shirt and blinks at the setting sun in confusion. Quietly, she listens to me pray over our food before lifting up the box lid. “Half pepperoni and half Hawaiian?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered halves of a few different types.”
She picks up a slice with the pineapples and ham.
“Hawaiian?” I say, my eyebrows shooting up. “Didn’t see that coming. I ordered that for me. I thought you’d want the others.”
“I love the sweetness of the pineapple with the salty ham.”
She takes a big bite and groans. The noise does a little something in my chest, and I shift in my seat.
“I also got you coffee,” I say, my voice oddly strained.
“Seriously?” she asks around a mouthful of food.
“I made you a promise. This was the biggest cup I could get you.”
She’s already chugging a few sips before I can finish my sentence.