Page 27 of Storm Warning
Why did she call me back?
My haste grows with every step, her face now in view, but filled with confusion. “Did you forget something?” she asks, as though she didn’t just yell out my name.
I take each stair up to her in pairs, not wasting my time answering. For a moment, I look into her eyes, a place filled with so much mystery and fire. And then I kiss her. Much to my surprise, she doesn’t push me away, nor does she hold back in returning the gesture. Our tongues intertwine and my entire body feels a rush. Her hands glide up my back, her fingertips lightly scoring the path to my shoulders. I grab her ass, lifting her up onto the railing. I’m at my breaking point and I can’t restrain myself any longer. Finally feeling a lot more than nothingness since leaving bull riding and a whole lot less space in my pants than a second ago. I pull away from her to peer into those soulful eyes and then our lips crash into one another once again.
A jolt comes from nowhere as I slam into something.
My truck?What the fuck?
I look around, but Kaylee is nowhere in sight. I’m back at the bar, alone.Holy fuck, I daydreamed the entire thing?What did Nancy put in those drinks? Was I drugged? This has never happened before.
Leaning forward, placing both hands on my knees, I dry-heave. This isn’t the time or place to be throwing up, but myspacey head and the nausea that resides in my stomach is a sure sign that there is absolutely no way I should drive my dumb ass home either. I fumble in my pocket, pulling out my keys, trying to find the right one so I can unlock my truck. The door creaks as I swing it open and crawl inside the single cab, thankful that the center console is already up and out of my way.
My body crashes onto the seat. I heave again toward the rubber floormat before resting my eyes and releasing a groan. I’ve never been so drunk that I thought something happened that didn’t. The Dr. did mention that dreams could become more intense thanks to the concussion, but I’m not dreaming, I’m drunk. My entire body feels like it’s about to overheat, the warmth of the day feels suffocating. I swing my hand back, doing my best to wind the window down a crack to let in some fresh air. My eyes shutter closed, my arm resting on the handle a minute before going limp and slamming to the floor. The jolt wakes me from the inevitable sleep my body needs and I roll to my side.
I huff at the inconvenience of the small quarters I find myself in, wishing I was in bed back at the ranch. Or maybe in bed elsewhere… Pulling my arms close to my chest, I close my eyes one last time and wish away the hangover I know I’m in for. Only sleep can take this nightmare away now.
A tap comes at my window and light floods in as I peek my eyes open. It only takes me a second to realize my headache went from bad to worse, and regret fills my gut almost nearly asmuch as nausea. I look up and meet the gaze of a warm, familiar face.
Blowing out a breath, I sit up, doing my best not to look like a hungover fool and roll down the window.
“What ya doin here, Hon?” Nancy’s question doesn’t seem angry. In fact, she smiles as she puts her hands on her hips. “I mean I have a guess, but it’s best ya move along before the owner comes in. He’s been known to tow a car or two. Don’t ever seem to care if someone’s in it either.”
“Sorry about that. Figured it was best if I didn’t drive last night.”
“Good thinkin’.” She turns to look at The Westmore, then back at me. “I told ya those Bushwackers creep up on ya quick.”
I smile. “You’re right about that one. They snuck up on me so fast, I almost got to taste them a second time.”
Another warm laugh seeps from her, her smile deepening. “I know it’s none of my business, but I saw ya leave with Miss Slayton last night.”
Slayton? I immediately think of Roy Slayton, the legend, my childhood hero. I wonder if there’s any relation there? Probably not or she would have for sure taken a shot at me as not being as good as him. People have the same last name, this time just happens to be a funny coincidence.
God, my fucking head hurts.
“Y’all might not be an item, but, nonetheless, I’m glad y’all crossed paths.” Her smile fades a little before she adds, “She needs a bit of your sunshine.”
“Everybody needs a bit of this sunshine, Nanc,” I joke, before realizing how serious her expression looks. “I can assure ya she wants none of it, though.”
“Well, now here I go talkin’ out of turn again. What I mean to say is I think your attitude is what everybody needs, but especially someone who’s afraid to let theirs show.” Shehums, clearing her throat. “Now, ya better get a move on before the boss shows up. He ain’t ever cheery in the mornin’.”
“Have a day as lovely as you are, Nancy. I’ll see ya around, and thanks for not lettin’ the boss man tow my ass.” I hide my hangover as well as I can, hoping I don’t look as sick as I feel.
She smiles and I watch as she hurries toward the bar. My eyes burn as I rub them, a failed effort to rid myself of the heavy brain fog I currently feel. A truck pulls in beside me, reminding me of the urgency of my departure. Confrontation isn’t something I look for and today is not the time to start. Scooting into the driver seat, I grab my key from the ashtray, shocked I didn’t just leave it in the damn door last night. I stick it into the ignition and hear the rumble of my truck coming to life. I place my hand on the back of the passenger seat headrest, backing out of the parking lot and into the road, then head toward nowhere in particular.
I wonder how Sawyer fared last night. Or how I seriously ingested enough alcohol to ever think kissing Kaylee was a good idea, let alone actually happened.
Dismissing the thought, I try to focus on the road. I haven’t ever seen Broadway during the morning, it’s always so lively it almost feels like a ghost town now. There aren’t groups of people standing shoulder to shoulder, bar-hopping or walking the sidewalks. Heck, there aren’t many people here at all. Oddly enough, I find this type of quiet less peaceful than the hustle that usually occupies it.
Unintentionally, I pull up to Southern Sip. No better fix for a splitting headache than a cup of joe, right? I look in my rearview mirror the moment my engine is off and do my best to straighten the shaggy hair atop of my head. Just because I slept in my car doesn’t mean I need to look like I did.
I snag my can of Axe and spray the shit out of myself before grabbing a handful of Altoids, tossing them in my mouth for good measure. The door to my old pickup groansshut behind me as I move toward the entrance, watching my feet as I step over the curb. I nearly hit the counter before I make eye contact with anyone inside, almost tripping once I do.
Well, that was smooth.
Surveying the room, I look for a familiar face, but thankfully no demon angel in sight. Oddly enough, I find myself disappointed that I don’t get to distract myself from my hangover by pushing her buttons. She might not be my biggest fan, and the girl is more prickly than a damn cactus, but arguing with her would be a welcome distraction.
Nearly all of the tables are full, and I admire how busy the little shop is, still finding it odd how cheery it looks when the angel of darkness herself owns it. I’m not sure what I expected, but I know for sure I expected something a bit more punk than princess.
