“Home, junk home,” I mutter with an airy laugh as I unbuckle my seatbelt. Joe shoots me a worried look in response, but thankfully doesn’t comment. “Thanks for that. I like your mom. She’s fun. It was nice to get my mind off of things.”
“I hoped that might help. She’s the best person for me to talk to when I’m wound up too tight. But I hope she didn't work you too hard."
"Are you kidding? A few hours working outside with your mom was better than therapy. I asked her to adopt me before we left. Hope that's okay."
"She'd keep you in a heartbeat." Then his voice does that quiet rumbling thing that makes me lightheaded, "I wouldn't blame her." He faces me in his seat, his stormy eyes questioning mine. His Adam's apple bobs. Strong fingers fiddle with car keys.
I know that move! I saw it in a movie—he’s waiting for me to make a move! What should I do? Kiss him? His lips do look good. Ishould try to kiss him. Should I kiss him? I owe it to women everywhere.I’m in the passenger seat having a boxing match in my brain between logic and hormones. My heart is going to left hook itself right out of my ribcage.
His eyes darken and he leans closer a fraction, reeling me in.
I am pulled toward him. I can’t resist. I rest my hand on his forearm because it’s between us and I’ve wanted to touch it all day. It’s tight and flexes under my fingers. His eyes widen at my touch. “Indie—”
HONK HONK!
And I’ll never know what Joe was going to say because stupid Troy pulls into the stupid spot next to ours, blasting his stupid horn. “Sorry, boss! My alarm didn’t go off again!”
That night, after a fully authorized shower at the spa and a dinner of Thai takeout, I park the van in my favorite spot under the red cliffs. I crack the windows to air out the stuffy, curry-scented van and a cool breeze flits around me as I drag my exhausted body into my sleeping bag and land facedown in a heap. Every inch of me sags with relief and I enjoy the unique satisfaction that comes from combining hard work and lots of sunshine. I’m making a mental list of possible middle names for Joe when at some point my eyes flutter closed and I sink into a deep sleep.
Then I’m with Joe. We’re hiking through the desert, but we’re under water. A filter hums and makes bubbles in the sky, and a school of goldfish zips past us in the air, which I find terrifying. Joe pulls me into a cave for safety and starts kissing me—up and down my neck, my cheeks, my eyelids. It would be incredibly sexy except for the bubble-pop sound he makes with every peck. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Then he focuses on one cheek. Dozens of kisses on the side of my face. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. Through the fog my brain starts torealize I’m dreaming, but I grasp and claw at it. I’m trying to hold on to the dream, as utterly ridiculous as it is, just to luxuriate in Joe’s popping kisses for a minute longer.
But it’s over. Rolling my eyes with an intensity that would do thirteen-year-old Indigo proud, I realize I’m dripping from the neck up. Rain pelts my face from the tiny crack I left in the van window, making a gentlepopwhen it hits my pillow and the top of my sleeping bag. I scramble to roll up the windows, leaving my damp pillow and sleeping bag in a heap. Thunder and lightning pierce the air simultaneously and I shriek. This gives me the adrenaline I need to crank up the rest of the ancient windows. Lightning flashes like a strobe light, some in the distance and some directly overhead. Pounding rain on the roof and windows, combined with the thunder, make me feel like a tennis shoe thumping around inside a washing machine.
I grab my phone to check the time—2:07 in the morning—when there’s a flash of lightning combined with a crack of thunder that is so deafening and so close that I dive into the driver’s seat and lock the doors. It’s the middle of the night and I’m alone and panicky, so this solution makes sense to my overworked amygdala.
Breathing like I just finished a 5k, I try to think of a solution that will actually protect me from this thunderstorm that wants to kill me. Then I remember the night watch guy who let me back into the spa to take my shower. Toby something. He said he’d be there all night. I crank The Hulk to life and point it toward Nizhóní.
After a treacherous drive involving spinning tires, useless windshield wipers, and my fanciest vocabulary words, I dart through the river that used to be a parking lot and into the foyer of the spa. I’m sopping wet, and it’s dark except for a few dim sconces that flicker with every crash of thunder. I tiptoe through the halls—not as silently as I hope in my water-squeaky flip flops.Where is Toby?
I should announce my presence at least, so I don’t end up being tased or whacked over the head with a vase.“Toby?” I whisper as I squish arounda dark corner. Nothing. I shiver under the air conditioning and pick up my pace. It’s chilly when you’re drenched all the way down to your underwear. I need to dry off and find a quiet place to sit out the storm, so I try a few changing room doors. Locked, locked, locked. Even the bathroom is locked. There’s a gift shop, which I’m sure is locked tight, and it is despite my rattling of the door handle.
I make my way toward the gym because I know there are towels and benches in there. I turn a dark corner and run straight into a tree, which I am positive I would’ve remembered being planted in the middle of the hallway. The tree wraps its arms around me to steady both of us, and that’s when I recognize the scent of mountain air, aftershave, and pheromones.Gasp.It’s the unattainable man.
I take in a deep breath before I stumble back a step. “Joe! What are you doing here?”
His hands stay gripped on my upper arms like I’m going to fall on my behind at any moment, which is not outside the realm of possibilities. “The guy who does our night watch called me. His wife has the flu and he had to run home for a while. What about you? Is everything okay? You’re shivering.” His warm hands slide gently up and down my arms with this comment and every thought I had immediately leaves my brain.
“I got rained on.” This brilliant remark is followed by an uncontrollable full-body shiver and, “I left the windows down.”
It’s dark in here, but I can see a crease form between his eyes and his hands pause on my arms. “You left the windows down… where?” His voice is rumbling and deep like the thunder I was trying to escape and I’m close enough that I feel it down to my toes.
“In my van.” I guess he doesn’t realize my van is also my temporary home? Things just took a turn for the even-more-humiliating. Pile it on, Universe. I guess that’s the way things are always going to go with Joe, but right now I’m so cold all I can think about is finding a towel or a blanket or curling up against his big, toasty chest for warmth.
His hands squeeze my arms and his voice is quiet. “Indie, what on earth were you doing in your van in the middle of the night?” His growly tone says he knows why and he’s not pleased with it, but he’s hoping he’s wrong.
I release one long breath and stare at the art, though it’s too dark to see it on the wall behind him. I am completely absorbed in this abstract painting. “I was sleeping.”
He sighs and I decide I might as well get it all out there.Rip it off like a bandaid.“I’ve been camping in my van. Every place in town was booked solid when I got here and I’ve never camped before. I thought it would be… fun.” I shiver violently so as to emphasize my point.
The crease deepens between his eyes, but one corner of his mouth tips up. “Seems like it.” His hand slides down to mine and wraps around it, but he doesn’t weave our fingers together. This feels more like he’s pulling me up from a ledge because his only other choice is to watch me fall to my death. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
And with that he guides me through a maze of hallways and into a small room. He flicks on the lights and there are three sets of washers and dryers lined up against the wall, shelves stocked with linens and towels, and a huge counter-height table in the center of the room.
He leads me to the table. “Hop up.”
“What is with you asking me to hop onto things that I’m too short to reach? You do that every time you rescue me, you know.” I shiver-laugh and it totally kills my delivery.
He sighs and before I know what’s happening his hands are at my waist, placing me on the table. “Stay put for a second. You’ll like this, I promise.” He hands me a towel, then grabs a few things off the shelves and throws them in one of the machines. After he pushes some buttons the white noise of a dryer fills the room.
