“You mean everything to me, too,” she whispers in a delayed reply to what he confessed when she was fresh off her head wound.
It’s the closest she can get to admitting what she wants. Rather than wait for a reply, she rests her head against his shoulder and enjoys swaying to a sweet song, shocked that she can hear it above her own heart beating so frantically between them.
Chapter 30
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.Especiallyliking 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?”
