Page 106 of Snake

Giving her head a good hard shake, she jammed the talk button. “No, Cox. I’m no longer interested in trying to guess what you’re thinking by studying your expressions and your single-word responses like you’re an ancient artifact I have to decode. You came to me. If you don’t have anything to say, if you’re not ready to have a conversation, you can turn around and go right back.”

She dropped her hand and turned away from the door and the white box beside it. Ida gave her a Damn, girl! look.

Her heart thudded, her mind raced, her hands shook, but she squared up and started back toward the kitchen. She needed another shot of tequila. Maybe two. Or three.

Halfway there, the damn thing buzzed again. Autumn turned and stared at it.

She could ignore it. She’d said her piece and sent him home.

No, she’d said if he wasn’t ready to talk, he could go home.

He’d buzzed again; that might—should—mean he was ready to talk. But this was Cox, who had to be angry, drunk, or reeling from an orgasm to string multiple words together into actual sentences.

The intercom buzzed again—for a long time, this time. Autumn looked to Ida, asking a question with her eyes.

Ida shrugged. “It’s up to you. If you don’t want him, ignore him. If there’s anything left that wants to give him another chance, and if you’re sure he won’t hurt you”—she laid the emphasis on that clause down hard and even wagged her finger—"maybe this is the last chance to know for sure.” She shrugged again. “I mean, is there any other reason besides you that the guy would be in Indianapolis?”

Autumn wanted the answer to be no.

Monumental, he whispered in her head.

But what would it mean? If Cox was here because he wanted another chance, that suggested he was serious about it—serious enough to drive most of a day (or more likely ride most of a day). If she gave him that chance, it suggested she was serious as well.

So what did that look like? She was moving to St. Louis, which was closer, but it was still more than a hundred miles from Signal Bend. If they got serious, did that work? At least for the first year or so, while they were getting established, she’d have to work in, or at least near, the office, so she could be responsive to any issues that came up. Once it was running smoothly, she could work remotely a good chunk of the time, but she’d still need regular office time. She was going to be in charge of the place; she had to be there.

Could they sustain that kind of distance? Could she commute from Signal Bend? Would he commute from—

Autumn cut that silly notion off before it finished. Absolutely he would not. The club, not to mention its town, was his job, his family, his home. He wouldn’t leave Signal Bend.

Another long buzz from the intercom, this one lasting a solid ten seconds. Maybe longer. He was becoming either angry or more determined. Or both.

“You’re doing the thing, Autumn,” Ida said, snapping her fingers as if she were waking her from a trance. “Stop with the five-year plans and focus on now. What do you want?”

What did she want? She wanted her dads. She wanted her friend. She wanted her career.

She wanted to feel the way she’d felt with Cox. Not just those first couple wild nights, but also through the week after his mom’s death. She wanted someone to trust her the way he had, to rely on her, to need her.

To love her, even when he couldn’t feel anything else but pain.

But love like that was only true in fairy tales and romance novels. Right?

Autumn went still, closed her eyes, and dug deep, seeking the answer.

The one she found made her heart race with fear and with hope.

It was reckless, it was probably foolish, but it was true. She’d felt love with Cox—in those first nights of lusty abandon and throughout the week of darkness that followed, she’d felt love like she’d never experienced in her life.

She wanted it back.

When she turned back to the intercom, Ida applauded.

“What, Cox,” she said this time. “What do you want?”

“You,” was his monosyllabic answer.

Autumn gaped at the intercom, her finger still pressing the receive button, as a barrage of fireworks went off in her chest.

Into her stunned silence, Cox finally spoke a sentence.

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