Chapter Twenty-seven
Dallas
We’ve barely left the bed for twenty-four hours. When we get hungry, we bring food to bed. If Bex needs to go outside, we let him out quickly with a promise to play later.
There are three empty bottles of wine, multiple food wrappers and dishes, and a pile of books sitting on the nightstand.
Every muscle in my body is sore. It doesn’t matter that I spend hours a day hiking or chopping wood, apparently those aren’t the same muscles one uses for marathon sex.
I lost track after the fifth time. I chuckle softly when I think we should have kept count.
“What’s so funny?” she asks with a yawn.
Marti’s head lies on my chest where she’s been, unmoving, for the last hour. I wasn’t even aware she was awake.
“I was just wondering if we should have kept a tally. Because maybe Guinness has a category for that.”
She giggles and tickles my ribs. “We’d win that world record for sure. But I’m pretty sure in order for it to be official, there have to be witnesses.”
Now we’re both laughing.
She maneuvers off me and lays her head on her pillow.
Her pillow , I think momentarily. Somehow, over the past week, there is a pillow that’s come to be hers. She has a side of the bed. Even a designated chair at the table.
We lie facing each other.
“It was for sure my PR,” she says. She stretches her neck. “And I swear to God I used muscles I didn’t even know I had.”
“Me too,” I say, reaching up to rub one of her shoulders. “So, personal record, huh?”
She nods. “Charles and I were a one-and-done kind of couple. Even when we were teens.”
“So he’s the only one you…”
“Yeah.”
“Mmmm.” I close my eyes briefly. “Same for me.”
She doesn’t look surprised. It’s as if she already suspected. We look at each other, probably thinking the same thing. We both married our high school sweethearts. Our first loves. Our best friends. Our only lovers. And now they’re both gone.
I ask the question that’s been bouncing around in my head since yesterday. “Marti, how come you didn’t ask me about the tow truck the other day?”
She averts her gaze, staring at the ceiling through a deep sigh. Then she looks back, tucking her hand beneath her head, under her pillow. Her eyes capture mine. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
We stare at each other. Hell, we stare into each other. I’m not sure either of us needs to verbalize an answer. We both know why.
I take a chunk of her hair and rub it between my fingers. “He said it would probably be four days. Well, two now.”
“Two days,” she repeats, glumly.
When she says the words, and I see the emotions on her face, I swear a countdown clock appears in my head. Two days. Two more days with her. It seems surreal at this point, only a week after I found her wrecked car in a ditch, that on that first day, I couldn’t wait to get her out of my cabin. But now… now I believe that when she leaves, the cabin will feel empty.
And I fear the cabin isn’t the only thing that’ll feel that way.
Bex jumps up on the bed and worms his way between us. He licks my hand over and over. I can hardly blame him. Based on where my hand has spent most of the last day, it must taste damn good. “Okay, okay, I get the hint.” I sit up and pull on my sweatpants. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then take him outside for some exercise. Can I make you some coffee?”
Marti’s arms stretch above her head then she pulls the covers tightly around her. “Coffee would be amazing.”
I put the water on and let it boil while I take a shower, washing off the distinct smell of sex that now permeates every pore of my skin. I brush my teeth, the whole time looking at Marti’s toothbrush wondering just how I’ll feel a few days from now when it’s no longer here. But then I look in the mirror, aided only by the light filtering through the window. Looking at my reflection is not something I do often, because every time I do, I see DJ. He had my eyes. My nose. The shape of my chin. I see what he might have looked like had he grown up. And I see the empty space next to me. The space that should be occupied by Phoebe.
Guilt courses through me at the idea that she might know everything about what I’ve been doing. My actions. My thoughts. Is she somehow watching me, feeling betrayed at how easily I jumped into bed with Marti?
Fuck.
I sit on the closed toilet waiting for the feeling to pass.
It doesn’t.
After staying in the bathroom far longer than necessary, I go out, get properly dressed, then pour hot water into a mug, mixing it with my emergency stash of instant coffee.
When I hand it to Marti, she looks at me inquisitively. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” I lie and gesture to Bex. “I just really need to get this guy outside.”
“You know where I’ll be.” She chuckles, sinking deeper into the covers. “I suppose I’ll get up and shower eventually, but right now, the thought of it is even more unappealing than staying all sticky.”
“Alright then. I’ll see you later.”
She tilts her head, staring at me oddly. I turn and call to Bex as he excitedly races to the door.
~ ~ ~
Three hours later and half frozen, I go back inside, having let the dog in long ago. Bex is sleeping in front of the fire, and Marti is still in bed working on her laptop.
She shuts the lid quickly.
I lift an amused brow. “Don’t tell me you were watching porn.”
She guffaws. “Of course not.”
“It’s okay if you were.”
She rolls her eyes. “I do not watch porn, Dallas. Do you?”
I shrug. “It’s been a while.” I take my coat off and warm my hands by the fire. “So why the secrecy then? You slammed that thing shut so fast I’m surprised you didn’t break it.”
“I was… just trying to get a little work done.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re lying.”
Her arms fold across her body defensively. “I am not.”
“You want to know how I know you’re lying?” I stride over and pull her lower lip from her teeth. “You bite your lip when you lie. You also bite it when you’re shy. And horny. But after the last twenty-four hours, I doubt you’re either of those. So, tell me, Martina Alexandra Carver, what exactly is it you don’t want me to see? Because I’m not moving until you tell me.”
I try to push away the guilt that niggles at the edge of my consciousness. Half of my time outside was spent convincing myself I was going to keep my distance. Put up a wall between us. Put a stop to… whatever seems to be happening here. But the moment I walked back in and saw her, my resolve instantly began crumbling.
And now she has a secret. Something she doesn’t want me to see. It’s not a bad secret, based on the look on her face. But maybe an embarrassing one. If curiosity killed the cat, I’m as dead as a feline surrounded by a pack of wild dogs.
I sit on the edge of the bed, knee up on the mattress, facing her. “Come on, show me. How bad could it be?”
An eruption of pink crosses her cheeks. “Okay, but please understand I was just fooling around. It’s not anything serious.”
She opens her laptop, types in the passcode, shifts the screen so I can see it, and closes her eyes.
My jaw hits the mattress as my brain wraps around what I’m seeing. The screen is split. On the right is our website: Montana Winery. On the left is a bunch of graphics I’ve never seen before. Graphics that include the business name, wine labels, logos, and all kinds of other branding stuff.
I’m completely dumbfounded. “How long was I out there?”
Her eyes open. “I told you, I was just messing around. I was bored and didn’t feel like doing any real work.”
I point to the logo. “Can you zoom in on that?”
She clicks and the large logo fills the screen. It’s similar to our current one, only crisper, more vibrant. And a hell of a lot more interesting. It’s hard to even put my finger on what’s different. The texture? The depth of the background? The subtle difference in shading and color?
“Holy shit. This is amazing, Marti.”
She draws in a breath, then releases it. “You really think so?”
“Yes, I do. You’re super talented. You should show these to Lucas. He runs our marketing. He’d go nuts over these.”
Her quiet laughter sprinkles the air. “Dallas, I was just playing around. I’m not going to show anyone anything.”
“I’m just saying you should. He’d flip. We’ve had the same old tired branding for years.”
“Branding is how you’re recognized. You don’t want to go changing it.”
“We wouldn’t be. Not really. See what you’ve done here? It’s the same but different. Better. A lot better.”
At the compliment, another shot of color splashes across her face. She closes the laptop.
I touch the lid. “I want those. All of them. What’s your usual price?”
Her eyebrows melt together. “I’m not going to sell them to you. I didn’t even do that much. You can have them.”
“That’s bullshit, Marti. Don’t ever underestimate or devalue yourself like that. You’ve got genuine skill.” I carefully fish my wallet out of the nightstand, making sure my fingers don’t touch anything they shouldn’t. Then I hand her my business card. “Email them to me. Please. I’ll show them to Lucas and if he wants to use them, we’ll pay you fairly and generously.”
She takes my card and tucks it inside her laptop. “Whatever. You don’t have to patronize me.” She gives me a hard stare. “And if by some miracle, he does want them, you’ll pay my normal fee and nothing more, or else I’ll know the graphics aren’t really what I’m being paid for.”
Guilt is back in full force. But for a very different reason. I don’t like what she’s insinuating. I don’t like it one goddamn bit. But I bite my tongue.
The air between us is filled with awkwardness.
She wraps the spare blanket around her shoulders. “I need to shower. Desperately. I’m just having a hard time convincing myself to get out of this cocoon and go become an icicle. What I wouldn’t do for a warm bath.”
I glance over at the hot water on the stove and get an idea. “Give me a half hour.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to draw you that warm bath.”