street. They have the best pulled pork sandwiches. They don’t deliver, but it’s within walking distance,” Dawn explains. Just as she draws in another breath to undoubtedly list other options, a knock at the door has me scrambling to my feet.
“Uh, Dawn, gotta go.” I don’t say goodbye to her. I hang up the phone and stand up from the bed, unsure of what the hell to do. I glance around for my purse. I have pepper spray on me at all times, like Jake always insisted. I grab my purse and begin rifling through it for the small bottle.
Whoever ’s at the door knocks again. I finally get the pepper spray in hand, shake it a few times, and tiptoe to the door. I lean forward to look out the peephole. My shoulders relax when I don’t see anyone there. Had to have been someone with the wrong room number. Maybe one of Ugo’s delivery guys. I unbolt the door and open it, pepper spray in hand, just in case.
Zander.
My shoulders slump in relief and the awkward realization of just how relieved I am to see him again doesn’t escape me.
H e’s standing just outside the door of my room wearing a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops with canvas straps that appear to be frayed on the edges. His blue eyes wash over me. “Smart girl,” he says quietly, noting the pepper spray in my right hand by motioning his eyes down toward it.
“Oh. Um, yeah. Jake, my husband, he makes me, made me, carry it everywhere.” I stumble over my own words, still mixing present tense with past. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right. It’s just another uncomfortable detail of my pathetic life.
Zander nods then holds up a very familiar surfboard key chain with the number four on it. “Thought you may need this.”
“Yes , I do. Thanks for bringing it by.” I hold out my hand for the key just in time for my stomach to announce that I’m starving.
Zander arches his eyebrows, making the first clear display of emotion I’ve seen on him yet. I can feel my cheeks redden; my second round of embarrassment in Zander’s company. First I partake in a wet dress contest and now my stomach is making noises that sound like they should only come from a man seven feet tall and five feet wide. So embarrassing.
“Hungry?”
“Yeah. I was just about to order some dinner when you knocked.”
“ Wanna go eat?” The way he speaks in choppy little sentences has me wondering if he ever talks much at all. He’s like a primitive or something.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just going to take it easy since I ’m supposed to meet you for breakfast in the morning,” I make it a point to remind him.
“So we can meet now. For dinner.” The way his eyes swallow me up makes it difficult to refuse.
Truthfully, I don’t want to refuse him. I want to be near him. I want to hear him speak. I want to watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes. I want to study him like he has studied me. I want to know him.
“Sure, I guess.” I shrug, knowing that I’d like to avoid having to get up early tomorrow. “I need a few minutes to get dressed.”
“ Okay, I’ll wait in my Jeep.” He motions his hand towards the small parking lot right behind him. I peer around him to see a fire engine red Jeep Wrangler with big tires. The top is missing and I imagine that thing is a lot of fun to drive around in.
I crack a small smile and nod coolly. “Nice ride.”
Zander grins playfull y. It’s damn near breathtaking. He’s like a wet dream in the flesh. His playful smile does something funny to my stomach and I hate myself for it. My treacherous, neglected female anatomy has these mental images of Zander rolling through my mind like a movie clip.
I glance over my shoulder into my motel room , thinking that the courteous thing to do would be to invite him in while I get dressed in the bathroom, but I’m not sure. I don’t even know this man. He could be a psycho.
Even thinking it is so out of place for me. He’s no psycho. I
“Uh, Dawn, gotta go.” I don’t say goodbye to her. I hang up the phone and stand up from the bed, unsure of what the hell to do. I glance around for my purse. I have pepper spray on me at all times, like Jake always insisted. I grab my purse and begin rifling through it for the small bottle.
Whoever ’s at the door knocks again. I finally get the pepper spray in hand, shake it a few times, and tiptoe to the door. I lean forward to look out the peephole. My shoulders relax when I don’t see anyone there. Had to have been someone with the wrong room number. Maybe one of Ugo’s delivery guys. I unbolt the door and open it, pepper spray in hand, just in case.
Zander.
My shoulders slump in relief and the awkward realization of just how relieved I am to see him again doesn’t escape me.
H e’s standing just outside the door of my room wearing a plain white t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops with canvas straps that appear to be frayed on the edges. His blue eyes wash over me. “Smart girl,” he says quietly, noting the pepper spray in my right hand by motioning his eyes down toward it.
“Oh. Um, yeah. Jake, my husband, he makes me, made me, carry it everywhere.” I stumble over my own words, still mixing present tense with past. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right. It’s just another uncomfortable detail of my pathetic life.
Zander nods then holds up a very familiar surfboard key chain with the number four on it. “Thought you may need this.”
“Yes , I do. Thanks for bringing it by.” I hold out my hand for the key just in time for my stomach to announce that I’m starving.
Zander arches his eyebrows, making the first clear display of emotion I’ve seen on him yet. I can feel my cheeks redden; my second round of embarrassment in Zander’s company. First I partake in a wet dress contest and now my stomach is making noises that sound like they should only come from a man seven feet tall and five feet wide. So embarrassing.
“Hungry?”
“Yeah. I was just about to order some dinner when you knocked.”
“ Wanna go eat?” The way he speaks in choppy little sentences has me wondering if he ever talks much at all. He’s like a primitive or something.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just going to take it easy since I ’m supposed to meet you for breakfast in the morning,” I make it a point to remind him.
“So we can meet now. For dinner.” The way his eyes swallow me up makes it difficult to refuse.
Truthfully, I don’t want to refuse him. I want to be near him. I want to hear him speak. I want to watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes. I want to study him like he has studied me. I want to know him.
“Sure, I guess.” I shrug, knowing that I’d like to avoid having to get up early tomorrow. “I need a few minutes to get dressed.”
“ Okay, I’ll wait in my Jeep.” He motions his hand towards the small parking lot right behind him. I peer around him to see a fire engine red Jeep Wrangler with big tires. The top is missing and I imagine that thing is a lot of fun to drive around in.
I crack a small smile and nod coolly. “Nice ride.”
Zander grins playfull y. It’s damn near breathtaking. He’s like a wet dream in the flesh. His playful smile does something funny to my stomach and I hate myself for it. My treacherous, neglected female anatomy has these mental images of Zander rolling through my mind like a movie clip.
I glance over my shoulder into my motel room , thinking that the courteous thing to do would be to invite him in while I get dressed in the bathroom, but I’m not sure. I don’t even know this man. He could be a psycho.
Even thinking it is so out of place for me. He’s no psycho. I
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