Chapter 11
Quint
My bathroom door is shut, the sound of running water traveling through it.
Wait a sec. It takes my brain an extra minute to catch up with the events of the night before.
How could I forget the beautiful celebrity sleeping in the room next to mine last night?
Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop thinking of her, which made it impossible to fall asleep.
Now my thoughts are fuzzy and sluggish from lack of sleep.
I hesitate, taking a step back, so she doesn’t think I was lurking outside waiting to pounce on her.
The door swings open and I take another step back, but my feet get tangled up and I stumble.
I reach out to grab something, anything, to catch myself, and it lands on the tiny table beside the bathroom door.
My socked feet continue to skitter on the polished wooden floor, but gravity is the winner in the end.
I hit the hard floor with a thump, taking the table, and the lamp sitting on it, with me.
Fuck. Pain shoots through my hip, and I’m afraid to look up at her. But I can’t ignore the soft tap on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Should I call someone? No wait, I think my phone’s dead. Shit.”
I squint my eyes open to see a slightly blurry version of her face. “I don’t think there’s anyone who can help me recover my dignity here.”
Soft laughter sounds out. “Probably not. That was pretty spectacular. Can I at least help you up?”
I finally open my eyes all the way to see her offering me a hand, palm up. As much I’d love to hold it, now is probably not the time. “I think I can handle it.”
As I’m pushing myself to my feet, a wet nose bumps my neck and then Blink’s long tongue swipes all the way up the side of my face. Apparently me crashing to the floor wasn’t much of a cause for concern, but now that I’m on the floor, I’m a prime target for kisses.
Aura falls to her knees beside us with a soft thud, and the traitor mutt redirects her affection, wagging her scruffy butt in my face.
She lets Blink pant doggy breath in her face while she pats her shaggy coat.
“Aren’t you the cutest.” The dog flops over, exposing her belly for scratches.
I knew I liked Aura when she started softening toward Flash, but anyone who gives my dog the attention she deserves is guaranteed to turn me into a puddle.
“How are you, baby?” she asks the animal in a singsong.
“She might claim she’s good but don’t let that cute face fool you, she’s trouble. Do you have any pets?”
Her mouth turns down slightly. “No.”
“Really? Not even one of those tiny dogs you can carry around in your purse like a fashion accessory? Or a pig? Don’t a lot of celebrities have pigs as pets?”
She looks up, rolling her eyes at me. “Pigs? I don’t think so. Maybe some, but definitely not me. It wouldn’t really be fair. I travel a lot for different productions. And even when I was on Paisley Creek, I worked such long hours I wouldn’t have had time to spend with a pet.”
I bend down to pick up the table, inspecting the miraculously unbroken lamp and placing it back in its spot.
“Well, you can borrow Blink while you’re here.”
Aura gives the dog one last pat, then stands up, brushing her hands down the front of her shirt. A cloud of hair floats away. It’s a futile effort. As long as she’s staying here, she’s going to be covered in dog hair.
I shift on my feet, trying to work up the courage to ask the question that’s been on my mind since last night.
“So, I know you were only planning to stay the one night, but is there any chance that comfortable bed changed your mind? After what we walked in on at the hotel, I’d really feel better if you stayed here. ”
She runs a hand through her hair, combing out the tangles. “I think…maybe…”
“I tell you what. How about I make you one of my world-famous breakfast sandwiches? Then I’ll drive you back over there, and you can decide. No pressure. Your decision.”
“World-famous? Big promises there, Cowboy.”
“Trust me. I always back up my promises, Hollywood.”
“Really. You know I’ve eaten in some of the best restaurants in the world, right?”
“I’m sure you have.”
She plucks at the comically baggy T-shirt she borrowed from me, looking down at herself.
The gray sweatpants are cinched tight at the waist to keep them from falling down and cuffed at the bottom.
Her feet are bare, and her face is scrubbed clean of makeup.
She looks incredible as always, but the way she looks wearing my clothes tugs at something in my chest. And a little lower if I’m being honest with myself.
My fridge is full today, so we don’t even need to leave the privacy of my small place. Eggs, bacon, green onions, a bottle of smoky garlic hot sauce, and mayo. I study the ingredients in the light of the fridge.
“You like tomato?” I call out, glancing over my shoulder to see her wandering around my small front room.
Oh, no. Her long black hair falls in a shiny waterfall as she tilts her head to study my game shelf.
Jigsaw puzzles I haven’t had the time to work on, some board games, and of course, all my D&D stuff.
“Yup,” she says, trailing a hand over the shelf of campaign booklets. That’s not going to up my cool factor with her one bit.
Apparently, though, like most people she’s not immune to the lure of bacon crackling and hissing on the stove. She wanders up next to me as I’m slicing some beefsteak tomatoes up.
“Can I help?”
“I’d be a pretty bad host if I put you to work, wouldn’t I?”
“Not if I want to help. I don’t get to cook for myself too often.”
“Well then, if that’s how you feel about it, I’m not going to say no.
Why don’t you chop those green onions up?
” I reach up and over her head to snag the second cutting board out of the cupboard.
She shifts, and my left hand flies up to stop the sharp corner of the door from hitting her in the head.
There’s interesting mixture of gratitude and puzzlement on her face when she turns to me. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I shake my head. “Just haven’t washed those onions yet.”
She nods, moving to the sink to rinse the onions, and for the next few minutes we work away in silence for the most part, with only an occasional instruction.
But I catch her peeping over my shoulder as I mix up my special sauce. “How hot do you like your food?”
“I can take some heat. I like things spicy.”
My mind goes somewhere completely different and I have to clear the gravel out of my voice to respond. “What a coincidence. I like it spicy too.”
I show her how to slather the perfect amount of my secret sauce on the toasted English muffin and then layer the rest of the ingredients in precise amounts.
“Who taught you how to cook?” she asks as we’re settling down at the small table pressed up against the window overlooking the south pasture.
“My mom. She was the master of breakfast. Dad could make a mean stew or cook anything over a campfire, but Mom was the queen of a big ranch breakfast.”
Her arms freeze with the sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Your parents…”
“They’re both gone.” And just like that the grief washes over me, threatening to pull me under the current.
I let it sit for a minute. People don’t like to talk about it.
How the sharp edge of pain dulls over the years, but it never goes away.
It just hides for a time, but little things can drag it out of the depths and take you by surprise.
You never know what’s going to set it off.
Blink bumps her head against my leg as if she can sense my pain.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What happened? If you want to talk about it. I understand if you don’t.”
My voice is gruff with emotion when I answer. “It’s okay. It was a car accident. Seven years ago. I was still in high school. Caleb looked after us after that. I still think about them, of course. But it’s a lot easier now. I think the worst part is when I forget.”
“I’m so sorry. I won’t ask you about them again.” Her arms fall back down to the table as if she lost her appetite, but that won’t do.
“Don’t do that. Don’t be afraid to ask about them. They were amazing people.”
“Okay.” She lifts the sandwich to her mouth, crunching down on it as though to change the subject. A little bit of egg yolk oozes out, sliding down her chin, and I have to rein in the urge to reach over and wipe it off. “Oh my god, Quint. That is so good.”
“Told ya. Best breakfast sandwich you’ve ever tasted, am I right?”
“Fuck, yes.” Her hand flies up to her mouth. Maybe she’s not in the habit of letting f-bombs fly, but I think it’s pretty cute. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You can rave about my cooking any day.”
“I don’t even know what it is. It’s just so good.”
“It’s the special sauce.”
“Is it a secret?” she asks before taking another massive bite.
“Kinda a Holloway family secret.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to live in disappointment.”
“Guess so.”
My dog lets out a low whine, looking up at Aura with her big brown eyes.
“Blink, leave Aura alone. She’s not going to fall for your pitiful starving look.” But I break off a small morsel of bacon and slip it to her. She gobbles it up and turns back to my guest. “No, no more. That’s all you get. It’s not my fault you already ate your own breakfast.”
Aura does a bad job of hiding her snicker behind her hand.
“Now, was that enough to make your decision? I’m not above offering my breakfast-making services, as long as you agree to stay far away from that sketchy excuse for a hotel. Hell, maybe there’ll even be some lunches and dinners.”
“When you put it that way…” She glances down at her plate, then back up at me from under her lashes. “How could I refuse?”