Page 21 of Hauling Ashe

“Exactly. We’ll both stay there.”

“No,” she adamantly states but I’m already cutting her off.

“Yes.” A heavy pause falls between us. “Is this about money? I’ll pay for your room.”

Her mouth drops open at my suggestion, but before she utters a word, she turns on her heels and heads for the front office, another low building detached from the rest of them. She has to be kidding me, but this doesn’t feel like a joke, and I stalk after her, entering the small office after a sharp yank on the front door.

“We’ll need two rooms, please,” I hear Mae state and the statement crushes my ire a second. Of course, we need two rooms. However, my head is arguing with other parts of my body. The part of my body that has no say in being Mae’s roommate.

I am not sleeping in the same room as her.

Based on the size of these buildings, I can’t imagine more than one bed fits in them anyway which leads to the argument…I am not sleeping in the same bed as Mae.

The thought of not doing it, has the thought of doing it springing to the forefront of my mind, and my eyes drop to Mae’s backside again. Her legs are short but toned and the backs of her knees beg for me to bend her there, bring her down to the floor and take her from behind.

The image almost knocks me back through the front door and I stagger a second. The subtle sway causes Mae to turn her head in my direction, glancing over her shoulder at me, and another wave of images mixes with the first. Mae looking at me as she is, her hair draping over one shoulder, her chin aimed over the other. Her head on a pillow as I fuck her senseless from behind.

Jesus. I swipe a hand down my face as if it will erase the vision and calm the raging hard-on I’m suddenly sporting in my suit pants. I need to get away from this woman because I know the reason I want to fuck her. I want to drill some sense into her. We should not be staying in this dinky motel where I can’t be convinced the sheets are clean. There isn’t even turn down service or a coffee bar in the rooms.

My hotel snobbery is showing, and another memory comes to mind of three guys piling into one room, not too dissimilar from a place like this. We were high on music, women, and something not legal at the time. Laughter filters through my head. Lawson Colt and his rich Southern voice. Denton Chance and his soft Georgia twang.

Fuck.

Scrubbing two hands down my face, I reach out for a key Mae hands me. An old-fashioned metal key on a rhombus shaped, plastic fob with the motel name and room number stamped on it. Mae will be in number one; I’m in number four. Instantly, I don’t like the distance between rooms but acknowledge the separation is for the best. Tugging the key from her hand, I turn for the office exit and cross the small lot toward Mae’s car. I didn’t offer my credit card, but I’ll come back later. I need to get away from Mae and the memories this godforsaken road trip keeps bringing forward.

“Did you want to grab some dinner?” Mae asks, her voice sweet and quiet as she comes up behind me.

“No,” I toss over my shoulder, waiting for the click of her trunk to allow me to open the hatch. Hastily, I reach for my bag. I should help her with hers and I grumble, “Which one of these do you want?”

“I can get my own bags,” she says in that huffy voice she has when she’s been offended by me. Suit yourself, I want to snap, mimicking her, but instead, I snag one suitcase and tug it forward. Dropping the bag to the ground on its wheels, I pull up the handle and Mae takes it from me. She doesn’t argue whether this is the case she wants or not. I close the trunk lid with a slam and notice Mae is already stepping away from me. I should offer to eat with her. I should explain why I don’t want dinner with her.

But mostly, I should get away from her before I follow her into her room and beg her to let me fuck her.

“Will you still go out for dinner?” The idea of her eating alone shouldn’t upset me.

Mae sighs, pausing several feet away, keeping her back to me. “You know, I’m not feeling so great after the dog on a stick.” She gazes over her shoulder again, making me think things I shouldn’t. Envisioning images I shouldn’t. “So, I think I’ll call it a night. I’m tired.”

The time isn’t that late. The sun hasn’t even set yet but we’re well past the dinner hour.

“Okay. See you in the morning.” I shouldn’t be holding my breath, anxiously waiting on her response. She’ll still be here in the morning, right?

“See you in the morning,” she mutters before continuing to her room, and the statement has no business doing what it’s doing to me.

Which is offering a hint of reassurance she isn’t ready to dump me. Yet.

10

Playlist: “St. Louis Song” - Erin Bode

[Mae]

After a check-in call with my boys, who hardly had more than a few words to say, my ex-husband took the phone and had plenty of remarks about my absence. Taking excessive deep breaths, I hang up on him and call my business partner, Pam, to check in.

Pam had worked at Mae’s Flowers as a second job but eventually became a good friend and my full-time manager. Once she married the love of her life, a writer of dark, scary stories, she had bought into the business. Her partnership has been invaluable in more ways than one. She’s one of the few people I trust in my life.

When Adam and I divorced there was no way to amicably share the business with him. Mae’s Flowers was under the umbrella of Eden Landscaping, originally owned and operated by my in-laws. The easiest way to claim the business I’d built from the dirt up was to buy out Adam’s portion of the joint ownership. Loyalty toward my in-laws had me biting my tongue about Adam and his shenanigans with business funds. I couldn’t afford to buy Adam out without loans or a deficit to the existing company, so Pam and a silent investor offered to buy in.

Next, I call Jane.