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“Don’t kid yourself, Marco. You’re no more chill about things with Tripp than I am.”
The sun is moving toward the horizon, its rays occasionally seeping through the broken clouds. One lands on me, almost like a spotlight, before disappearing again. I ponder Annalise’s words and the truth they contain. But anger isn’t the strongest emotion I feel, although it is my preference because it hurts less.
“He asked me what I’d done,” I say softly. “When your Jeep was there but you weren’t…he asked me what I’d done to you.”
CHAPTER 19
Marco
“I am not sleeping with you, Marco Gonzalez!”
The camaraderie from earlier has evaporated like a puddle in the West Texas desert.
Annalise snaps the keycard to room one-eighteen back into my palm. I pinch my gaze and stare her down. Forget that staying in the same room was never my intention, I’m feeling a wee bit put upon at the moment. I have been deprived of a shower, sleep, and nutritious food for going on forty-eight hours, so this drama I do not need. Suddenly, her fatigue and obvious malaise have disappeared, fueled by righteous—in her mind—indignation.
“Did you even hear what I said? The motel had one room left. One.”
“Then we should have tried the other place.”
I follow her pointing finger to an old-style motor court that looks significantly worse than this, situated opposite us on the other side of the freeway. “Full up too. I asked.”
“Then we should have kept driving.” She slams her arms across her chest.
“I don’t have another hour in me, Annalise, and that’s how far the desk clerk said the next option is.”
I can tell she wants to argue, but I think the burst of adrenaline is already fading, plus, it’s difficult to argue with a maxed-out driver. “Fine. I’ll sleep in the truck.” She sets her chin.
She’s serious as a heart attack—and I have the wild urge to laugh. This is miss side-boob who picked me up at a bar one tiny week ago?
I suck in my amusement, mostly because I don’t care to get slapped. “No, you will not.”
“Yes. I will.”
“Well. If you do, you will be sleeping with me, which I believe is precisely what we’re trying to avoid here.”
I lift an eyebrow, and I’ll be dadgum if she doesn’t lift one right back at me.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind, that is?”
Whoops. Too far again. She looks ready to combust.
I sigh. “What I’m saying, Annalise, is thatIam going to sleep in the truck, and I assure you that was my dastardly plan all along.”
Suspicion narrows her eyes to slits.
“Don’t look at me like that. Just…get out of the truck already. You, motel room, me truck. All I’m asking for is bathroom privileges. Got it?”
I don’t get around in time to open her door, but I do stand at the ready should her equilibrium fail her, which seems more than possible. I’m certain the doctor didn’t realize his patient would be road-tripping immediately upon release. He might have reconsidered.
Stale mustiness smacks me in the face as I follow Annalise into the drab space. The room is an average size with two queen beds, a TV, and dated décor. She tosses back the covers on the first bed, kicks off her shoes, and all but collapses onto it, burrowing in in no time flat.
Dinner for one it is.
I make a quick pit stop, dig a cap out of my duffel to contain the stinky-crazy my hair is after the last two days, and open the door. I pause, checking the sidewalk left and right. These aren’t the best digs and some of the neighbors are sketchy. “Uh, Annalise. Why don’t you come flip the door guard behind me.”
“Because then I’ll have to open it when you get back.” I can barely make out her words for the pillow she’s buried her face in.
“Come on.”
