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The short trip to the truck in the parking lot is silent. When Gage walks ahead of me and opens the passenger door, I step into the cab and plop down on the seat. As I lean my head back, I hear the seat belt being pulled. Is he… buckling me in? My eyes widen in shock but I still don’t say anything.
He checks me over, grabs a water bottle out of the glove box, unscrews the top, and holds it out to me. On instinct, I take it from him. When he’s satisfied that I’ve accepted the bottle of water, he backs up and gently closes the door. I take a long drink and put it down in the cup holder.
I know the ranch is only about 10 miles outside of town, but it feels like so much longer right now. The gravel road underneath the tires is creating white noise inside of the truck and I’m fighting for my life to keep my eyes open.
“You good?” his gruff voice asks.
“Yeah. I’m good,” I sigh. “Are you? I mean you’re not going to get arrested if we get pulled over for some reason right?”
“Nah. I’ve just had water since we left the bunkhouse.”
I shift in my seat to get more comfortable. I’ll just close my eyes and rest for a second.
“Oh. Why?”
“Just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.”
Chapter 10
Blythe
Ishould check my last grocery store receipt. Whatever detergent I grabbed off the shelf is incredible. I make a mental note to buy the same exact one for the rest of my life. My sheets have never smelled this good. Like green earth and clean air and man…
Man?
My eyes snap open and I feel around. There’s a mountain of pillows and a thick down comforter on top of gray jersey sheets.Jerseysheets. They’re incredibly soft and comfortable but definitely not the silky cream Egyptian Cotton ones I splurged on for my birthday this year.
And why are my clothes still on?
I groan as I sit up slowly. Rubbing my forehead and squinting my eyes, I take in the room that is very clearly not mine.
My brain finally decides to catch up, and I remember that I am in fact not in Baltimore right now, but at the ranch where my brother works.
The only problem is that I distinctly remember Kee and I bringing our bags up a flight of steep stairs to a loft full of bunk beds. This… is not the loft.
I fall back down on the pillow and close my eyes again, hoping I just need another minute to wake up. When that doesn’t work, I turn my head to the side and spot a yellow legal pad with a steaming to-go cup of coffee on top of it. I pick it up and inhale deeply. Still hot. Mmm.
On the pad, scribbled in barely legible handwriting, is a note.
Drink this. Painkillers are in the drawer in the bathroom. Your phone’s plugged in on the counter in the kitchen. You should really put a passcode on it.
-G
My head snaps to the other side of the bed. It doesn’t look ruffled or slept in. There are no pictures around the room or any solid proof, but this is Gage’s bedroom. I can feel it. I put the note back down and decide to snoop around.
There’s a collection of hats hanging from a wood plank shelf on the far wall. Some are perfectly shaped and clean, and others are older and worn in with evidence of sweat and dust around the band. Underneath, there’s a neat stack of records next to a black turntable. I flip through them, almost every one being classic country or rock. I laugh when I see one where Tanya Tucker’s got a mic chord in between her legs on the cover.
Everything in here feels rustic in a charming way. Simple. Unique. I run my fingers along the wooden table that holds the record player and vinyls, taking slow steps as I go. If there were a bottle of cologne on his dresser I’d shamelessly inhale it until my lungs burst. But there isn’t one. I guess he naturally smells as intoxicating as he does. I let out a strong breath and shake my head.
So, I slept with Gage last night, put all of my clothes back on, and somehow completely have no memory of it? Highly unlikely. Something tells me a night spent with him in his bed and I’d never be the same. Not something I’d have a hard time remembering.
After several panicked sips of coffee, I peek my head out the door and into the hallway. The coast is clear. I’m not above tiptoeing into the open and up the stairs to avoid someone here finding out I slept in Gage’s room last night. Not a conversation I’d like to explain to my brother.
Finally safe and in the kitchen, I wander around looking for something to eat. I refuse to take painkillers on an empty stomach. Is that my phone?
I recognize the purple silicone case right away. It’s tucked into the corner next to the coffee maker and plugged into a charger. The screen lights up when I lift it from the counter.
There are several new email alerts (shocker). A few app notifications (uninterested). And one unread text message that catches my eye from a contact I didn’t know I had. G (gasp).
