Page 37 of Bottle Rocket
“I can’t feel my toes, andI’m wonderful.” She laughed again. It sounded so free and full of joy.
He kissed her swiftly, then helped her fix her clothing. She was leaning heavily against the door, her breath slowing in increments. She looked satisfied.
He grinned and tied off the condom. “Let’s scoot, beautiful.”
She sighed and drew him into a gentle hug. “Thank you. This was …wow.”
He pressed his lips to her temple and led her out into the warm night air. She locked the door behind them. There was a trashcan on the far end of the parking lot, and he dumped the condom there.
He met her back at her car and asked, “What next?”
She took her antibiotic and shrugged. “I’m going to pee at the gas station down the street. Then maybe I could meet you at your house. Your Airstream, I mean. I have an overnight bag with me.”
Relief rushed through him. Sex in risky locales was great, but it didn’t allow for the tenderness he craved afterward. He was glad their night wasn’t over.
Within twenty minutes, Rosie was back in his RV, fresh faced and put together. If he hadn’t been there, he would never have suspected she’d just been pounded into next week.
She dropped her overnight bag by his front door and kissed him. It felt so normal, having her there, her greeting him as she came in the door. He could get used to it, he realized.
He’d been painting earlier—a continuation of the doodles he’d started the morning after he’d first seen her again—and his workspace was still messy.
“What’s this going to be?” she asked, studying his canvas. He’d been playing with watercolors, and the picture hadn’t taken shape yet. He was painting by the seat of his pants.
“Haven’t decided,” he said.
She smiled. “It’s colorful.”
“I’m into soft colors right now. Pastels. Dean says it’s my baby-shower phase.”
“What other phases have you gone through?”
“Hmm.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she leaned back into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I don’t know. Up until recently, I’d only done the stylized illustrations. I enjoy that. It makes me good money.”
“What made you start gravitating toward this?” she asked, gesturing toward his painting.
He considered that for a long moment, taking the time to bury his face in Rosie’s honey-scented hair. He’d been enamored with this new aesthetic for over a year. It had started with a daydream. A memory. He’d been lying in bed, the sun streaming in through his windows, the air glittering with dust. He’d closed his eyes and seen iridescent smoky clouds tinged with pale colors and shimmering water and pink sky. It had stuck with him, that image, and had caused his palms to itch until finally he’d made plans for hisLoverscollection.
“Nostalgia, maybe?” he said. He didn’t want to give too much away. The colors he’d been using weren’t trendy. They were dated in a way that charmed him.
She turned in his arms. Her eyes were a little serious. A little too knowing. He felt as if she could flay him open with nothing but a word.
But she didn’t. She smiled again—that stingy smile that made him feel like a king—and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered in his ear. “I want to cuddle.”
“Your wish. My command.” He grinned and swept her into his arms. She gave another of those perfect laughs, so he threw her over his shoulder, ready to storm his bedroom. She whooped. He grabbed her ass. It was magical.
As he carefully walked them through the narrow kitchen, she said, “Wait! My bag. There are sex toys in there.”
He groaned, doubled back, and picked up her bag without putting her down. Once they made it into his room, he dropped her bag and tossed her onto his bed. The bed stretched the whole length of the room, edge to edge. He’d worked hard to make it as cozy and comfortable as possible. The Airstream was his escape—literally as it had wheels—but his bedroom was his refuge. He hadn’t allowed many people into this part of his life. He kept it close to his chest, but he loved having Rosie there.
He flipped on his reading lamp before falling into her arms. She snuggled up against his chest. He held her, running his fingers through her short hair, and her body grew heavy against his.
After some time, she asked, “Do you ever feel lonely?”
“No. Not really.”
As soon as he said the words, he knew they were a lie. His heartbeat skyrocketed, and the metallic taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth. He didn’t understand his reaction.
