Chapter 7 #2
The first two casas were little more than one-room cabins, though the yards were tended to and pride of ownership was clearly an issue.
“That one turns into a wild place at dusk,” she said pointing to the third structure, a slightly bigger bungalow.
“The owner’s a woman who was born here. She has seventeen brothers and sisters, most of whom are within a few square miles.
She raised them, and charges them every night for drinks, then kicks them out when they start to fight.
And that house—” she pointed to the fourth, “that’s Tom’s.
His daughter Nina lives there, too, and she runs a cantina out of the back courtyard.
It’s a popular place for locals. And here’s the fifth.
” They pulled into the lot. “This is where you’re staying tonight. ”
Griffin took in the classic Spanish-style dwelling that to Lyndie’s critical eye could use some work.
Still, the comfortably cozy inn with its low flower-lined windows, the cream walls built of all-natural materials including lots of Mexican stone, had stolen her heart.
She knew there were spots that needed patching, that the yard needed help as well as the courtyard the inn had been built around, but the Old World charm drew her, soothed her like few other places had, and inside she’d found her own personal haven.
Griffin parked near two other trucks and two unidentifiable cars. Dust rose up, choking them. He looked at the hanging sign that read rio vista inn. “Not quite the Hilton,” he noted with a smile.
Inexplicably, she felt her defenses rise.
“Look, it’s real life, all right? Maybe the rooms are small, and maybe half of them don’t even lock.
You might even see the occasional large and unwelcome roach.
But the food is spectacular and the ambience genuine.
The owner is saving up her cash to remodel.
You just go on inside and let them take care of you. ”
He blinked, clearly surprised at her passion. “I was just kidding, Lyndie.”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Who’s the owner?”
Oh, no. He didn’t want to share himself with her, and neither did she. “Ownership is a rather odd issue,” she finally said. “But it’s open to any weary traveler, which you certainly are.”
They both looked at the inn, at the stucco that needed patching again, at the bricks in the arches that were the color of dirt, thanks to the latest dust storm. Due to the drought, the plants out front, the ones that got direct sunlight all day long, had long ago begun to wilt.
But there were lights on inside, and she could already smell dinner—real food, not fast food—that would fill their empty bellies. Far better than any fancy hotel.
Griffin got out of the Jeep and grabbed his gear.
“Hey, as long as there’s running water…” he said with a teasing grin she ignored because he had a way of wearing her down, of turning her defenses into something else entirely.
“Running hot water,” he added. “I’d do just about anything for a shower. ”
“A bath is closer to what you’ll be getting.” She eyed him beneath the lights coming from the inn. He’d do “anything” for a shower? He really shouldn’t have told her that. “What do you hear?”
He cocked his head and listened. “Water.”
“You’re quick, Ace.”
She moved toward the sound, which led them to the side of the inn.
There was a small creek running there, around back, disappearing into the vast, dark wilderness beyond.
Above them the moon struggled to light their way through the smoke, as around them, oblivious to the wildfire raging not too far from this very spot, insects hummed and a coyote howled off in the distance.
The banks of the creek were mossy and thick, the trees hanging over the water creating a private little haven. “Don’t tell me,” Griffin said, looking dejected. “This is my bath?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Oh yes, she definitely had replaced her defensiveness with something else. Mischievousness. “I also won’t tell you that the soap is hanging from the vee of those two branches to your right.”
He eyed the hanging soap, then looked down at his filthy body. “I suppose I need to clean up before going in.”
She lifted a negligent shoulder. “I suppose.”
Dropping his bag, he looked her over. “Do you bathe in here too?”
“When it suits me.” She didn’t mention that she’d only done so once, in the thick heat of summer, and she’d been giving Rosa’s dog a bath with Nina. They’d gotten a nice tan that day too.
But for a good, hot shower, nope, she’d go inside and use the communal bathroom.
Which had perfectly fine running hot water.
Griffin was still looking at the water. She imagined that creek—snow melt—was still pretty darned chilly for this time of year.
He lifted his head. “I don’t suppose it suits you to bathe in here now…”
At the look of unexpected heat in his eyes, the one that sped up her heart rate for no good reason except that he looked like wicked fun standing there with a challenging gleam in his eyes, she bit her lip and slowly shook her head.
“Yeah. Thought not.” He kicked off his shoes. Lifted his hands and began to unbutton his shirt. “How is it I got more dirty than you did?”
Oh, she was plenty dirty, and she’d have her shower.
Hot.
Private.
And inside.
But at the moment it was her thoughts that were the dirtiest. Leaning back against a nice, comfy tree, she crossed her arms, confident she’d come out on top of this situation, that she’d gotten the best of him, because surely he wouldn’t really strip down, not right in front of her—
He shrugged out of his Nomex shirt.
Shucked off the T-shirt beneath, and tossed both aside.
Oh boy. “Um—”
His hands went to his pants.