“You really do owe me some stories, girlfriend. You better show up. If he’s back, you can show him. Wear a sexy dress and make him all hot and bothered.”
“You know what? I think I just might.”
“That’s the spirit.”
It felt good to be talking with her again. “I need to grab a bottle of wine and I’m heading home.”
“Tomorrow. I will hound you if you dare deny me sexy stories. I need to live vicariously through your escapades.”
“Oh, please.”
In a much better mood, I grabbed the wine and headed home. To pack. I’d made a promise to myself and damn it, I was going to keep that promise come hell or high water.
I walked the dogs, locked the doors like my man asked, turned on the music, and poured myself a tall glass of wine.
Then I got busy.
Only one wine turned into a second and third without eating anything.
But I accomplished a hell of a lot, more than I’d set out to do. There were boxes, including ones I’d taken the time to label and tape placed against the wall of the hallway. Going down memory lane wasn’t easy, but I’d been reminded of the girl I’d been in what seemed like a lifetime ago.
The dreamer.
The girl who planned on conquering the world.
Maybe that’s why when I’d stepped into my old bedroom, the tears had started to flow. Both from despair and the goofiness and awkwardness of being a teenager. Oh, the memories were bittersweet.
As I ripped pictures off my mirror, I groaned with every photograph because in every one of them, I had a different, even more vibrant hair color. At least my mother hadn’t stifled my creativity, but vivid purple hair streaked with fuchsia and electric blue? It was a wonder my teachers hadn’t gone berserk.
These were definitely going in the trash. I appeared as if I’d been auditioning for some reality show. I moved onto the insanity of items I’d kept for years tucked away in drawers. Ticket stubs to movies. Who cared any longer? Okay, well, maybe I’d keep the front row tickets for Justin Timberlake.
Between tears there was laughter.
And accomplishment.
Bags of trash had been created. I moved onto my bookshelf, groaning when seeing a copy ofFifty Shades of Grey. Really? My mother had allowed me to read the book as a teenager? Wait. Hadn’t my mother purchased the paperback for me? A sly smile crossed my face.
I think she had.
Maybe I’d keep that one just for old times’ sake. My visions turned a little wicked as I thought about Viper. A lot wicked. I could only imagine what he could do with some rope and a pair of handcuffs.
The thought tickled all my senses.
As I rubbed my finger across the title, my visions turned a little dirty, as if my eyes were roaming his naked body, enjoying the view on a hot summer’s day.
Oh, this was ridiculous. My smile faded as I thought about what he was doing right now. Risking his life.
My old television remained in the room. Maybe there was some news on what was happening on the mountain. After five minutes of searching for the remote, I found it in the trash. Oops. I hadn’t realized how late it was, the eleven o’clock news midway through.
“In an update on the fire on Mount Sentinel, from what we’ve been told, the fire is only twenty percent contained. However, the smokejumpers along with our brave firefighters have managed to keep the flames away from the University of Montana, which had been evacuated.”
The words coming from the reporter’s mouth sounded almost everyday, as if a raging forest fire occurred in or around the city several times a year. I hadn’t remembered hearing about fires in the mountains growing up in Missoula. Maybe I just hadn’t paid attention.
Maybe because until now, I’d never had a vested interest in paying close attention.
Viper.
I held the remote against my chest as aerial views were presented on the screen.
