“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 comeacross 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 torelax. 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 asshe 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.”
