Page 128 of Sinful Like Us
Disorientation kicks in for a split-second before we stop. I assess our surroundings with almost no visibility, but two tires dip a bit. Which means we’re probably on the bank of the road.
I turn to her. “Jane, are you okay?” I reach for her before I remember we’re not together, and she might not want me to touch her.
I pull back.
She blinks hard. Her chest rises and falls heavily and she sweeps my frame just as much as I sweep her. Confusion pinches the creases of her eyes. “Why don’t you look like we just went through a rollercoaster?”
“Because I’ve spun out on black ice before,” I tell her. “It’s nothing new.” It’s not as violent as a car crash, but the shock is the same. “You didn’t answer me. Are you okay?”
She nods, gulping a bigger breath. “I think so. I just kept thinking we were going to flip like Maximoff and…”And Farrow and her brothers and little cousin.
“We didn’t,” I say strongly. We’re just fucked. We’re nowhere near the house.
“So now we wait in the car, and tomorrow we hike.” Confidence blazes her words. She pulls her shoulders back like she’s preparing for every war to come.
“No, there’s not going to be a hike.”
Her brows bunch. “Then what?”
“We have to wait for help.” She can’t walk eight-hours in the snow without the right gear. I can’t put her in that situation, and unfortunately, I also can’t radio the team. Comms are still down.
“You think we’re too far away.” Jane realizes into a slow nod. “Alright then.” She unlocks the glove compartment and grabs a flashlight. “We should gather provisions from the trunk and make sure the exhaust pipe isn’t blocked.” Goddamn, she’s smart.
My lips almost lift.
Bottom line, she’s one of the best people to have in this situation. I’m sure of that. Desire pumps through my body without much warning.Bottle that shit.I hate right now how much I’m enticed by each and every part of her.
“That was my plan,” I tell her stiffly. “Except you’re not a part of it.” I hold out my hand for the flashlight.
She doesn’t move.
“Jane, your shoes.”
She glances at her leopard-print ballet flats. Our boots are back at the house, still drying from yesterday’s thunderstorm. Only difference is that I had an extra pair.
Jane sighs at the sight of her shoes. “And here I thought you were being over-prepared by bringing two pairs of the same boots to a week-long trip.” She brushes a strand away from her eyes. “My mom would call you intuitive.”
I shake my head. “It’s just a habit. I’m a size 15 shoe. I can’t run to the store if anything happens to my boots.” I stop and then push myself to say more. “As soon as I started making good money in security, the first thing I bought was an extra set of shoes for each that I own.”
“I love how practical you are.” She flushes immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped.” Her eyes are reddened from crying earlier. “Which, I suppose, is why they call it a slip of the tongue. And I’ll just stop talking…”
I want to tell her to never stop.
I want to tell her that I could listen to her forever.
We’re broken up.
I fight between being a pushy asshole and giving her space that she needs—and I land over on respectful ground.
Give her space.
I keep my mouth closed.
She passes me the flashlight, the plastic thudding into my palm.
“You’re okay staying here?” I ask, just to confirm
She nods. “We don’t need to have another problem to deal with, and me getting frostbite on my toes would surely fall into that category.”
