Page 30 of Wild Horses

“I don’t know my way around here; any chance you might”—I take a deep breath and forge on—“want to go with me in the morning? To make sure I get there okay?”

A smile tugs at her lips. “That’s all?”

My hands move of their own accord, unable to resist holding her when she’s this close. One arm wraps around her lower back; the other goes to her nape. “Maybe a few other reasons, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like getting to know you.”

“Without tequila and steak fingers.”

“Without tequila and steak fingers,” I agree.

“Give me your phone.” I adore her bossy ass. Though I hate to take my hands off her, I comply, unlocking my phone and passing it to her.

Her thumbs fly over the screen before she tosses it back to me. “I added my information and texted myself. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“No, sweetheart. I’ll pickyouup at eight.”

She nibbles her bottom lip, that pretty blush faint on her cheeks. “Well, alright then. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Laramie rises onto her tip-toes and brushes her lips against mine. It’s a whisper of a kiss, but it’s also a promise of more. A promise I’m clinging to.

“Sleep tight, Trouble.” With one last squeeze of her hips, I turn and walk away, lighter than I’ve been in months.

I shift on the uncomfortable motel mattress, rereading Laramie's texts for the hundredth time.

Your Trouble

Now you can chase me if I run

Too soon?

That she entered her name asYour Troublehad my heart jumping. God, how I want it to be true, for her to be mine. My trouble. My future.

My phone buzzes, a new text adding to the thread.

I really am sorry, War. I’m looking forward to breakfast and a chance to talk.

Me too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.

When Laramie doesn’t answer after a few minutes, I figure she’s taken my advice and turned in for the night. Switching gears, I brace myself to share the night’s developments with my sister and pull up our text thread.

Things with Dad went about as well as you’d expect

Tuesday

I hate to say I told you so, mostly because I can’t because you didn’t tell me you were doing this, but…

I deserve that

Can we talk?

No sooner than I send the last text does my phone ring.

“Hey.”

“What’s wrong?” Tuesday asks, somehow able to read me even from that one word.

“Hito you, too, sis.” I chuckle, but Tuesday isn’t deterred.

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