Page 97 of False Start

A tow truck rumbled down the street, and Kit sat up, waving the new owner down. As they signed paperwork and chatted, I checked the Cougar one last time. I skimmed my hands under the seat as a heaviness invaded my limbs.

What happens next?

The question had been at the back of my mind since that morning. We’d booked an early morning flight home. By breakfast, we’d land back in Norwalk. By lunch, I’d be in my apartment.

No guide book. No stops. No Kit.

“And I am officially car-less,” Kit said as the tow truck driver winched the Cougar onto his flatbed.

I wrapped my hand around her waist and she listed into my side as the new owner chained the car down. In minutes, the Cougar was gone.

“I can’t believe it’s already over,” Kit sighed.

I shot her a crooked grin. “Technically, there’s one more night.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh even as a smile tugged at her lips.

“One more night, huh? What are you getting at?” She blushed red, stepping out of my grasp. “Do you think rally rules still apply?”

“They could,” I shrugged, keeping my tone cool. “Your rules, your call.”

She pressed her finger to her lips, one side threatening to tug up. “Give me a good reason.”

“You think I’m fun? And good in bed? And a competent co-driver?” I stepped closer, brushing my lips against her temple. “It’s also entirely possible this hotel only has one room.”

“You’re so full of it, Texas.” She sighed, tipping her head up. “Tomorrow, this all goes back to normal.Wego back to normal.”

“Tomorrow?”

She shot me an impish grin. “My rules, my call. On one condition.”

I stilled. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve charming a shirt off a cranky bartender.”

“Oh, that’s a good condition, but no. I need you to share that trophy with me.”

The poorly welded hunk of metal didn’t seem anywhere near as desirable in comparison. “I think we can work out a join custody plan.”

“You’re being very reasonable.”

A whole day on the road and I couldn’t shake the memory of her in my arms the night before. Not the sex, although that was pretty great. But Kit curled up beside me, her breath on my arm and listening to the soft noises she made in her sleep. And how badly I wanted that just one more time.

She paused outside the hotel, a plain, three-story brick building with a “No Vacancy” sign tucked into a first-story window and held the door open as I maneuvered our bags into the no-frills lobby with plain white walls and old wooden floors.

“Welcome to the Clarendon House. How may I help you?” The front desk employee wore a white button-down shirt and a tailored red vest.

“Do you have any rooms available?” Kit asked, holding a hand out for her purse. The one slung over my shoulder. I maneuvered it out of her grasp.

The employee typed into the keyboard, peering down at the screen. “We have two double rooms and the suite open tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow at Kit. “What’s it going to be, Kitten?”

“We’ll take the suite.”

I paid, and we walked up the single flight to our room in silence. Kit slotted the worn skeleton key into the lock, twisting the door open and walking inside.

The Clarendon House suite was head and shoulders better than any of the motels we’d crashed at the five nights prior. Instead of pre-used soap and dingy linens, the king-sized bed was fitted with ivory white sheets and a plush red duvet. The bathroom didn’t have errant, anonymous hairs or slimy tile, but a clawfoot tub decorated with a half-dozen tiny bottles of fancy soaps with names like “Morning Sunrise” and “Velvet Night.”

I stood at the doorway of the bath as Kit wandered inside, anticipation growing in my chest and the need to repeat the night before growing by the second. She ran her fingers over the tub, tilting her head at the antique faucets as she pushed on the hot water and then the cold.

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