Page 89 of Hell Bent

Well, this was uncomfortable. My feet were literally shifting on the floor. “I’m not … comfortable otherwise,” I tried to explain, feeling as if I had a layer of skin missing. And I’d thought trying to achieve a 69 position on the back seat of a car had been awkward.

“I get it,” she said, and yawned. “And I’m naked on a golf course and it’s the middle of the night. Want to go home and get some sleep?”

I should talk more. We should be diving into this or something. Instead, I just said, “Yeah. I do. And Alix?”

“Yes?” She turned her face to me, and then she did something more. She rubbed her cheek over my chest.

I held her a little closer. “Thanks for coming to meet me,” I said, my throat tightening. “It was good.”

I didn’t say ‘Happy Birthday,’ you’ll notice, because she still hadn’t told me.

But I hadn’t forgotten.

35

FAMILY TIES

Alix

The problem with getting up at five A.M. six days a week is that on that seventh day, you have trouble sleeping past it. That was why I was easing myself out of Sebastian’s bed before six the next morning despite only crawling into it about five hours earlier. Also despite how beautiful he looked sprawled on his stomach, one hand above his head, the white sheet all the way down at his waist and the lean muscle of his back and arm, his tousled brown hair, scruff of dark beard, and the dark eyelashes any woman would have killed for on full display. He didn’t even stir, though, so I got dressed as quietly as I could, tossed my laundry into his washer and started it, made a cup of tea, and let myself out of the apartment.

In my truck, parked in Sebastian’s second space next to his own SUV, noticing how even that felt way too cozy, starting the engine and turning up the heat, then making the call I’d neglected for too long, to the only other person who’d be awake.

“Alix,” her clear, high voice rang out. “Herzliche Glückwünsche zum Geburtstag!” In other words, Happy Birthday.

“Danke sehr, Oma,” I said, the guilt rolling straight over me. “I’m sorry I haven’t called for a couple of weeks. I don’t even know how to?—”

“We could talk about that,” she said, “or I could be thrilled to talk to you now. I choose to be thrilled to hear your voice, especially on your birthday. So tell me all about it.”

“Not much to tell,” I said automatically, then thought,Are you nuts?“Actually, I guess thereissomething to tell. A lot has happened. Or changed. Or both.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “You’re getting the clarity you needed, then. You’re moving forward again. It’s interesting that our feet sometimes know what our brains don’t. Tell me everything you want to tell. The job?”

“It’s fine,” I said. “A lot of work, though. I mean, the work’s fine, but it’s—it’s long, OK? Six long days a week plus the commute—I forgot just howmuchthat is.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I remember when you did it before. It’s good that you’re strong, but?—”

“Yes,” I said. “If I tell you this, will you please not tell my mother?”

“Of course.”

“It’s been a little hard,” I said. “On my body. Thirty isn’t the same as twenty-five, I guess. It shouldn’t make that much difference, but?—”

“You’re right,” she said. “Thirty isn’t the same as twenty-five, and thirty-five is even less so. Pain?”

“Yes.” I admitted it. “How are you, though? Physically?”

“Oh, that’s a boring story,Liebchen.As boring as talking about your pain is to you. If you don’t want things to hurt, don’t get old. What else? I can tell there’s more.”

“I met somebody,” I said slowly.

“Ah.” It was a sigh.

“Yes. And I really like him. He’s—he’s a special person. But it’s complicated.”

“Oh, dear. That usually means, ‘He’s still married.’”

“No. Never married. Never had a live-in girlfriend, even, but he wants me here. Is that odd?”