Page 52 of Hauling Ashe

Tucker purses his lips, not liking my answer but letting the discussion drop.

We drive through another ghost town, this one on the edge of Texas before entering New Mexico. Evidence remains of what once was here, like the final town we saw in Oklahoma, and once again I consider the ghosts that haunt us through our lives.

Like Tucker and his band—his once friends who he left behind, and who equally left him to move on and become world famous rock stars. He’s lost so much while gaining just as much. He doesn’t see the balance, or perhaps it’s difficult to understand the equation as he traded one thing for another and doesn’t feel he had a choice. No one wants to be stripped of their dreams. Just like these old towns, the decision to put in a major expressway stripped them of dreams once held by business owners. They were everyday people who just wanted to leave their mark, and did, for a little while.

+ + +

Into New Mexico we go, and I’m excited. I don’t know what to expect but I’m imagining a lot of Southwestern bright colors and Mexican-inspired buildings. However, the map leads in two directions, one an original route and the other an alternative. In order to stay on schedule for Tucker, I mention skipping the road to Santa Fe. The cut saves an hour and spares sightseeing extras including a trip along the High Road to Taos and the Turquoise Trail, both meanderings through deserts and mountains. I keep my disappointment contained as I promised to get Tucker to his daughter in a timely manner. I still don’t see how Wednesday will work but we’ve covered considerable ground every day.

Most of the other attractions listed for Route 66 in New Mexico are hotels and pit stops, and as much as I hate to bypass them, even I’m growing weary of every rundown or restored gas station.

“I promise I’ll bring you back to New Mexico someday. We can see the entire state,” Tucker says. The suggestion is a pretty promise and I’ve had too many of them in my life, so I don’t take to heart his words. Instead, I smile weakly, knowing after this road trip I might never see Tucker again and how awkward will that be because my sister works for him.

We decide Albuquerque will be our stop for the night. As a major city on the route, I sense Tucker is desperate for a high-end, commercial hotel and not a roadside motel. The concession is another I make because he’s been a good sport at my constant calls to stop and he’s really opening up to me.

When we pull up before a large building that screams expensive rooms and lots of luxury, I’m immediately worried about cost and even suggest he stay here alone.

“I can pick you up tomorrow,” I tell him.

When he parks under the entrance canopy, awaiting valet parking, he turns to me. “Mae, we aren’t staying in separate locations. We aren’t even staying in separate rooms.” He stares at me, waiting for me to challenge him. His silvery eyes are like ancient jewelry and warn me not to argue with him, confirming he wants us together.

“This will be my treat.” He’s hopping out the driver door before I can argue this last statement. He’s already paid for every night’s lodging, even losing out on a second room last night to share mine. Still, he’s gone to check-in while I wait in the car, staring up at a building I’m certain I couldn’t afford to enter let alone rent a room within. When Tucker returns to me, he’s all business-like, opening my door and helping me out of Louie. He opens the back door for Gemma the geranium, handing me the plant and my large bag.

“The bellhop will bring up our luggage.” The trunk is popped, and a man steps over to retrieve our suitcases, placing them on a cart. Tucker leads me inside with a hand on my lower back, and for just a moment, I see how the other side lives. He’s in his element here while I’m sorely out of mine.

“We can order room service,” he says, although I can’t imagine eating since the steak at the Big Texan. We take an elevator to our floor, and our bags arrive shortly after us. Once Tucker tips the bellhop, the door closes, and the silence is almost deafening.

I stand near the end of a king-sized bed while a rectangular table serves as both desk and two-person table. There’s an oversized dresser with a bar inside one cabinet and a refrigerator with snacks in the other. A flat-screen television hangs over the large furniture.

“Mae,” Tucker hesitates, swiping his hands up and down his thighs. “We can do as little or as much as you want. It’s your call, but after today, after earlier, I just want to hold you tonight.”

“Don’t you think you should kiss me before you decide how far you want to go with me?” I surprise myself with the bold question.

Tucker steps up to me, cupping my cheek with one hand. His thumb strokes over-heated skin. “I’m going to kiss you, Mae. But the rest is up to you. Your call for what we do. Or don’t.” His eyes search my face before dropping to my lips where his thumb strokes over the upper bow then curves along the lower.

“And if I want to go all the way?” I whisper, finding myself even bolder than I was a second ago.

“Then I say, thank fuck,” he whispers before his mouth crashes into mine. The kiss isn’t soft and tender, but one that claims me, marks me, warns me. I’m never going to be the same after tonight.

23

Playlist: “Come Away with Me” – Norah Jones

[Mae]

Our mouths meld together, exploring one another before his drops to my jaw, to the side of my throat, to that sensitive place close to my clavicle. When he nips me there, my knees give out, and an arm catches me around my back. His mouth returns to mine but his fingers tug at my T-shirt, lifting the material up and over. When our lips separate, his eyes drop to my breasts, heavy and full in a light blue bra. He absentmindedly tosses my shirt and flattens his palm on my chest. Watching the movement of his hand, he slowly drags it over my skin before cupping me, squeezing the achy swell. He seems fascinated and the thought is both strange and empowering.

“It’s been a long time,” I whisper.

“Since you’ve had sex?” His gaze leaps up to mine.

“Since I’ve been kissed.” My voice cracks and his brows pinch but his lips return to mine, sweeter, softer, taking his time while his hand palms my breast and squeezes me hard over the silky material. Within seconds, he has my bra unclasped and I’m exposed to him, feeling more naked than ever.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I shrug.

“Mae, if I see you shrug again, I’m going to spank you.”