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The words dug into her and hurt more when she couldn’t deny them. “Maybe.”
He stared at her for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “If you feel that way, this isn’t the relationship I signed on for.”
“It’s not arelationship. That’s the problem. It’s hot and heavy screwing, punctuated with long-distance dirty talk.”
Frustration, hurt, and anger smeared his face, and he turned away. “If that’s what you think, who am I to argue?”
Chapter Twelve
Brandon’s fingers itchedover the pocket holding his phone. He wasn’t going to check it again. There wouldn’t be anything from Molly on it. He paced near the luggage carousel in the airport. He hadn’t heard from her in two weeks, but that didn’t stop him from checking, hoping, and glancing for new messages every few minutes.
Funny how quickly she’d become a habit and how much it ached to try and break himself off her. Even now, he swore he caught a tease of her body wash, from that evening in the shower.
As much as he hated to dwell, she had a point. He didn’t want to admit it, because it meant things wouldn’t be as easy for them as he’d hoped. The more he thought about it, the more he knew she was right. Meeting occasionally for a quick screw didn’t make a relationship.
His familiar duffel bag dropped onto the carousel. He’d debated about whether or not to replace it with a sturdier black suitcase but he liked being able to find his bag at a glance, among the others on the conveyor.
He hopped on the rental-car shuttle and stood near the door, not interested in sitting down. Her schedule said she’d be in Phoenix this week and next. She wasn’t looking forward to it when she told him. He didn’t blame her. It was October. It shouldn’t be one hundred degrees.
Twenty minutes later, he had his destination programmed into the GPS on the rental car and was following the mechanical voice’s directions. He pulled onto the 202 Loop, heading east.
The biggest problem he had with Molly’s logic was that it didn’t make it any easier to forget her. There was something between them, and he couldn’t move past that.
His mind drifted to fantasies of her straight black hair and intoxicating laugh. His brain checked in to focus on driving, but mostly pored over images of Molly. Each time he dove into those memories, his resolve grew. He needed her in his life. She was a haunting image he couldn’t ignore. A desire he could only sate with her.
It was early enough in the afternoon, even on a Friday, that traffic wasn’t too heavy. He’d wanted to make sure he arrived before anyone started leaving their offices. Still, he made a brief detour, to the dismay of the GPS, pulling through the drive-thru before finishing his trip.
By the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot, his fingers were drumming on the steering wheel without permission. He couldn’t ignore the adrenaline pumping through him anymore. He made his way to the front entrance.One foot in front of the other. Nice and normal-like. There was no need to run. It wouldn’t make time go faster.
The building was five stories tall, mostly brick, with minimal but well-groomed plants out front, like every other hotel he’d seen over the years. Inside, the lobby was as predictable—polished tile floors stretching past a check-in desk to elevators and a smattering of plush furniture.
The man behind the counter looked up with a practiced smile as Brandon approached. “Can I help you?”
Brandon took a deep breath.Please let this work. Please, whoever’s listening out there in the ether, let this be the right thing to do and the right place to be.
*
