Chapter Thirteen #2
Leaning back, I scan her red-rimmed eyes, still glossy from unshed tears. And I realize it’s not me she’s yelling at. There’s some other battle she’s waging, fighting alone as she always does, and she’s lashing out at the only target near her. Me.
“Our kiss wasn’t a mistake. It’s been a long time coming. I know you want to push me away, but I’m not budging. Whatever the problem is, we can work it out together.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Because nothing has felt more right than you.” I press my lips into hers, a quick kiss that feels wrong to end so early. “That’s not a mistake.” I swoop in again, reveling in the softness of her lips on mine for a second before pulling back. “Also not a mistake.”
Her lips twitch as she fights a smile. “Maybe you should check one more time.”
“Happy to.”
This time she meets me halfway, her hands flat on my back, guiding me closer. I let her take control and wait those excruciating seconds until her mouth finally claims mine, warm and confident in her choice.
I follow her lead, matching her kiss for kiss, as I tremble at her gentle touch.
When she whispers my name, I break, gathering her to me with a breathy groan.
I thread my fingers into her hair, the damp strands clinging to my skin.
My lips sizzle against hers as I fight the instinct to deepen the kiss, worried I’ll scare her away.
Because the last thing I want is for this moment to end.
Really, what’s the rush to return home anyway? Here is where I want to stay. In this moment with her. Rocosa, LA, and all my responsibilities fade into the background, unimportant. Nothing else matters but this woman in my arms.
Well, her and oxygen . . .
With a gasp, we break apart, desperate for air. My mind is still whirling, lost in sensations. She stares up at me, just as stunned as I am. How could I feel so much from a simple kiss?
“Now that one? Perfection.”
She laughs, that haunted look absent from her expression. “We better not press our luck.”
When she shifts back, I let her, hating the cool air where she once was.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Feeling better?”
“About us? Yes. About this camper?” She turns in my arms, scowling at the broken dinette table. “Not so much.”
“Then let’s get a plan together.”
“I wish I could be more productive and get started on the transmission leak, but it seems the rain is keeping us inside today.”
Thank God for that. We wouldn’t have been able to talk through things otherwise.
“Then you can start working on the inside while I make us some ham sandwiches.”
An easy groove forms between us. Reese measures areas of the living room while I build my famous ham sandwiches, making sure hers is loaded with extra mustard.
We sit on the floor, laughing and reminiscing about the past. Her laugh is musical and infectious so that I can’t stop myself from bringing up more topics to hear it again.
She offers to clean up before returning to the remodel, working through lunch and then dinner, all into the evening.
Grabbing the piece of paper, she scribbles all her ideas down as she goes, stopping ever so often to share them.
She can barely contain herself, gesturing wildly about ripping out the dinette booth for a foldable table and chairs, something that feels more like home than a restaurant.
She holds up a mock diagram of the table.
“Can you help me build that?”
My heart flutters at her request. Finally, she’s asked me for help.
“Of course.”
She points to the couch next. “This we should just trash. The fabric is hideous anyway. I want to change everything to a modern design with cozy accents. Like this recliner should be a loveseat, someplace the two of them could snuggle. Then I can add a wall-mounted TV here by the bunk so Des can still play his video games.”
I nod along.
“Floors need to be ripped up for the luxury vinyl flooring, maybe a dark wood throughout to contrast with the white cabinets and gray walls.”
“Gray walls?”
“Yeah.” She rubs her chin. “We need to do that too.”
“Add it to the shopping list.”
“Oh, speaking of shopping, I got these things in Amarillo. I forgot to show you.”
She pulls out a dark gray cork board with the phrase “Miles of Memories.”
“I thought they could take pictures of their adventures and pin them here. Maybe over the dining table when it’s finished?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I also got a few candles and these dark gray pillows with campers on them. Better than the cats, right? Though I do love that cat clock.”
My phone buzzes on the counter, Nicole’s name flashing over the screen. The breath in my lungs catches as a wave of tingles courses through me. She couldn’t be calling at a worse time. Reese eyes the phone, her brows low in confusion.
“It’s my agent. She probably has news about the anime call back.”
“What are you doing, then? Pick it up.”
Agh. What if they say no? What if they say yes? I don’t know what answer I want.
“Hello?”
“Tristen, my darling, how are you?”
I analyze each inflection of her words, but it sounds the same as it always does.
“I’m good. Calling to give me an update?”
“About Vivian? You bet I am. Not only did she like that recording you sent, but out of the narrowed list, you’re one of three still in the running.”
“Oh.” I shake my head, clearing the disappointment about the anime series.
“Such wonderful news, right? My advice is to get your next recording in ASAP and show them you mean business. I emailed it to you before I called. It’s a romantic scene, I know, not your favorite, but I have faith you’ll knock it out of the park like you always do.”
“Another excerpt? I’m not sure I have time—”
“Of course you do. This is a big opportunity for you, remember? When can you send it to me?”
Reese lifts up both her thumbs, nodding her head encouragingly from across the room.
I frown, not exactly pleased.
“I’m still on vacation . . .”
“So you have nothing but time to work on it. Wonderful to hear,” she says brightly.
“That’s not what—”
“Oh shoot, I have to run, my darling. An agent’s work is never done.”
“Nicole, I don’t think—”
“Talk soon.”
I growl when the phone clicks off. Though Nicole has a keen eye for talent and network connection in the industry, it’s frustrating that she keeps brushing me off. Maybe I need a new agent.
“Oh, Tris.” Reese wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the part.”
I don’t waste the chance to return the embrace, snuggling in close. I could get used to her hugs every day.
“No, that’s not it. She told me I got another call back for a book.”
“That’s good news, right? Why do you seem upset?”
“I don’t know if I like the romance books. They feel so forced to me.”
Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? You, or should I say Austin, is very talented. Ahem, you saw me on the bus.” She blinks suddenly as if remembering. “Wait. Were you jealous of Austin? Was that why you were so cranky?”
“Can you blame me? A beautiful girl in the seat next to me was practically swooning over him but couldn’t give me the time of day.”
“Wow. Two beautifuls in one day? It might go to my head. Now I feel terrible I’ve been such a jerk lately.”
“Lately?”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Why is it so hard to apologize to you? I’m sorry, Tris.”
I grab her hand, enjoying the way her fingers wrap around mine.
“I accept, Reese’s Cup. But I think we’re going to have to call it a night. It’s been a long day on the road. Are we trading beds? I feel like you should have the authentic motorhome experience like I had last night,” I suggest.
Laughing, she shakes her head. “Not a chance. I don’t want to sleep in a sardine can.”
“And I do?”
She pats me on the shoulder. “You should have thought about that before you tagged along for the ride, bud.”
I reach for her sides, hoping to tickle out an agreement, but she anticipates my moves and spins out of my grip to the bedroom.
“Nice try, Tris.” Her laughter follows her to the bedroom and ends in a muffled squeal.
I’m at the door in seconds. She sits in a puddle in the middle of the bed, the vent above her steadily dripping onto the comforter.
“Is it open?” I turn the crank, but it’s locked in the closed position.
“No, I never touched it.” Her voice quivers slightly. “I should have checked the interior more thoroughly. I was too focused on the mechanical inspection.”
“I never thought to check it either. It can be fixed, just like everything else. It’s just a leak.”
She stands and points to the fabric of her pants, now dark and soaked through.
“A leak? The bed is a soggy mess.” She pulls at her hair as more water splatters onto the bed.
“Hey. Look at me.” I place a hand on her shoulder.
“I can’t. I can only see the dollar signs of what will happen if this room develops mold issues.”
“Reese.”
She glances up at me, and I place a kiss on her nose.
“We’re a team, remember? You can share the bunk with me until we get it fixed.”
“Huh. Convenient how that worked out.”
I lift up my hands, pleading innocence. “Who, me?”
“Uh-huh. Super suspicious.” She points at me. “I mean, could you smile any bigger?”
I laugh at that, unable to hide it. “I mean, I’m not disappointed. Don’t worry, I’ll be an honorable gentleman. It is a snug space though.”
We change into our pajamas and stand next to each other in the kitchen brushing our teeth. It’s an oddly domestic moment, but comforting in a way that feels like I’ve done this all my life.
“Ladies first,” I say, gesturing to the ladder.
“Aren’t you going to make me beg after I wouldn’t let you trade beds?”
“Nah. You need a good night’s sleep just as much as I do.”
She crawls in first, and I roll up two towels as a barrier for her peace of mind.
“You don’t have to do this. I trust you,” she says once I’m done.
“Well, it’s more so that your brother doesn’t murder me when we get back.” I tuck the towel more securely before I can change my mind. “But I appreciate you saying so.”
I crawl in behind her, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. My senses are on full alert. Every sigh, every movement, the sound of her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth—even just knowing she’s within arm’s reach—is a true test of willpower.
“Tristen?” she calls from the other side of the towel.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for today. For listening and being patient with me. I’m lucky to have you as a friend . . . and maybe more.”
“More?” I turn toward the barrier.
“Good night.”
“Wait, wait.” I press down on the towel so I can see her mischievous eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means let’s take whatever this is slow. No pressure. No commitment.” She places her hand over mine. “Okay?”
I flip my palm over and thread our fingers together.
“Whatever you need.”
I catch the hint of her smile in the shadows, and her eyes slide closed.
The rain patters on the roof, a soothing rhythm as I watch her sleep, my eyes growing heavy. Today didn’t go how I expected, but it ended up better than I could imagine.
Maybe that’s one of the many reasons I love Reese—she’s never boring.
Here I thought Rocosa had become dull and complacent.
But maybe that’s just life without her? Without her sense of humor, her smile lighting up a room, or waiting for her next escapade—she paints the color in our small town .
. . and I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up.
Drifting off, I keep our hands entwined, enjoying the connection.
Suddenly my eyes spring open, my heart nearly exploding at the turn of my thoughts.
Love?