Page 53

The bike doesn’t have endless gas. They carried a few spare gallons from their starting point and used it at the halfway mark, leaving them barely enough to reach their destination.

Coming back, if they have any intention of doing so, would have to be done in other ways. That’s always been common knowledge.

They can get to Arizona on what remains, but now that they’ve got a shiny new Land Rover they can save some extra gas while still gaining miles.

An hour of the morning is spent ripping a wheelchair ramp off another trailer to use for driving the bike into the back of the truck. After removing the second row seats, there’s enough space to haul one form of transportation while driving another.

Now, they’ve parked their ride in a broken-down town straight out of a western movie while doing a little shopping at a mostly looted camping store.

“The hell is this supposed to do?” Wade grunts, nudging a toilet seat attached to a fake bumper.

Kara shrugs. “The obvious?”

“But why do you need to crap on the back of your car when you can crap in the woods?”

“One of life’s biggest questions.” She holds up a bathtub hammock designed to be hung between two trees and filled with water. “Hey, what about this? Don’t know how we traveled without it so far. Meant for two.”

“Can’t sit in one of those hammocks when it’s dry. I’d end up on my ass for sure.”

She laughs, pursuing the outerwear section to hold up a few different coats in a mirror while he fiddles with a pair of tiny rubber dog boots.

“He would have liked those,” Kara says suddenly, noticing where his attention landed.

“We would’ve been lucky if he let me put ‘em on without wiggling around.”

“He’s a good dog. He would have let you do anything.”

“Yeah,” he says sadly, hating how forlorn that sounded when it isn’t something he’s been stressing about.

“You regret not bringing him along?”

He misses that damn dog, but leaving him with the kids was the only choice.

If they had the Land Rover back then, it might have been a different story than expecting him to run alongside the bike for weeks.

Plus, Kara seemed convinced that one particular little girl was the perfect owner for their floppy shepherd.

“No, the kids love him, too. Besides, the only way to take him was to find a sidecar, and we couldn’t. Too big to carry the whole way.”

“Now that’s something I’d have liked to see. What do you think? Blue or gray?”

She wants his opinion on her jacket choices, looking at him expectantly with a shy glint to her gaze, like she hopes he’ll take this seriously and not joke.

She’s sensitive about her appearance. Always has been, despite being the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Her desire for his approval is always wrapped in a layer of begrudging, irrational hesitation that he suspects is a byproduct of their upbringing.

It’s not like either of them ever got much positive reinforcement or affection growing up.

Wade needs to be careful to keep his compliments simple, or risk them sounding like bullshit. “Blue suits you. Goes well with your eyes. Technically, every color does, though.”

The way she beams at him while pulling on the blue coat is a worthy reward. “Your turn. Gets cold in the desert at night and up those mountains. You need one, too.”

“I’ll be fine. Nothing fits this wingspan. I’m lucky I got what I have.”

She frowns. “I like your wingspan, and you won’t know until you try. Here, give…these two a chance.”

She spends a moment fussing to see which might fit him before shoving a couple options his way expectantly, but he’s still stuck on the part where she said she likes his shoulders and arms. He can only hope that she gets the same shot of serotonin she just gave him when he compliments her.

The first one is too small, but the next has a surprising stretch. He nods in approval, liking how thick the material is and how many useful pockets he could stuff full. Especially liking how she runs both hands over his shoulders as if smoothing them out.

“Perfect,” she says. “Now we just have to get up that mountain.”

“It won’t be long now. We’ll be seeing red rocks soon. Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? Not hurting?”

“I’m sure. I promise. Are you?”

“All good. Maybe we’ll go today then?”

“I hope so. I’m ready to see it.”

* * *

The store trip is a success. They have new jackets, new filters, a kitchen timer to use as a distraction for the rotters if they come across any, and even some weird as hell canned peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Beggars can’t be choosers.

What doesn’t turn out, however, is their hiking plan.

They’ve made it to downtown Sedona, which is surprisingly desolate, before the skies open up and begin to pour.

Rain in the desert has to be a sign, he figures.

Of what exactly, he’s not sure yet. That’s when they aim for The Star Motel off the main drag.

Likely not the smartest choice for a place to stay the night, but the closest option that isn’t sleeping in the Rover.

A disintegrating rotter sits in the bathtub of the first unit, stuck to the bottom of the fiberglass, ripping its skin off as it weakly reaches for them.

Wade shoves his knife into its temple to put it out of its misery before they head into another unit that’s thankfully filled with nothing but dust.

Kara deposits her belongings on one of the beds, fluffing her wet hair with an old towel while he tries not to stare at how those damp clothes cling to her body.

“I like it here. It’s cozy.” She moves toward him like a cat, slow and easy, wrapping that towel over his head to give his wild hair a rub.

He lets her do it, feeling like his whole body might spark apart at the contact.

Step out of your comfort zone. Trust that good things can happen. A therapist told him that a long time ago. He often failed to apply it, but it’s something he’s thought about more than once during his mission to court Kara. If ever there was a comfort zone to step out of, it’s this one.

He’s trying to trust that good things can happen if he stops standing in his own way and allows the beautiful woman to caress his face with her fingertips and fluff his hair.

He gives her a lopsided half smile after she’s finished tending to him.

Watches her hand roam down his chest and into his front vest pocket… to pull out the bag of weed.

“What do you think?” she says. “We’re safe-ish here. Can’t go anywhere because it’s raining. We have…interesting canned snacks. Wanna get high with me?”

Fuck. He absolutely does and one hundred percent does not. That’s a level of danger they’re not ready for. He isn’t sure if she’s the type to recall everything in explicit detail the next day or forget every last word.

“I feel fine,” she continues, as if that’s what’s stopping him. “Haven’t had a headache in days, and I know it’s probably not a great idea so soon after an injury, but I just want to relax . I’m capable of only using a little. I promise. You don’t have to worry.”

He’ll probably regret this. “Okay.”

* * *

Wade forgot how nice it can be not to feel smothered by his own thoughts. He’s on the floor leaning up against a wall with a joint between his fingertips, watching Kara’s forehead crease as if she’s deep in thought.

He’s high as a kite, and she is, too. What comes out of her mouth next is ridiculous, but also perfectly logical at the same time.

“I’m gonna try one of those yoga poses,” she says, kneeling in front of him in the small space of the motel room.

“Careful. High yoga ain’t safe,” he warns. If she wants to play Twister, he won’t stop her.

She waves off his concern before planting her hands on the floor and raising her ass in the air like something out of the most explicit porn.

His mouth drops open. She can’t possibly be doing this on purpose to torture him, but her ass is practically in his face as she peers at him below her arm and then lifts her lower half higher than anyone should be able to.

“Downward dog,” she supplies helpfully. “Try it with me. Come on.”

“I’m good just watching.”

She laughs like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard, but her balance is off and she wobbles, tilting sideways and leaving him no choice but to grab for those perfectly round cheeks or risk letting her crash.

He’s saving her life. That’s what he’s doing. That’s all there is to it.

She tumbles into his lap in a discombobulated position while giggling her head off, and he pats her absently on the hip before he can stop himself.

Knows he shouldn’t somewhere in the back of his brain, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact, she’s still laying there sideways, all twisted up across his legs with his hand on her hip and her ass up against his crotch.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen her so delighted.

“My hero all over again,” she sing songs, righting herself to crawl beside him and hold up the wall, too. “Maybe now isn’t the best time to get into yoga.”

“I dunno. Looks like you were nailing it.”

“Yeah?”

“Good form.”

“Really? Staring at my ass give you that info?”

“I wasn’t,” he scoffs.

She frowns. “Oh. I was kinda hoping you were.”

He pauses, passing her the joint. “Then maybe I was.”

This is dangerous. The last remnants of his rational mind are quickly evaporating.

“Anyway, next time you have to try, too. That’s the deal,” she says suddenly, and he’s only grateful her attention is so easily shifted.

“Don’t remember any deal. I told you I’m too broken for that shit. Not limber like you.”

“You should consider yourself lucky. I’ve never asked anyone else to do yoga with me.”

“You’ve never done yoga before.”

“Details.” She rolls her head against the wall, staring at him curiously. “Lots of things I’ve never done or wanted to do with anyone but you. No one else knows me, Wade. Not really.”

“What about that pompous asshole from the waterfall place?”

“Luke? No. It wasn’t…like that with us.”

“Like what?”