Page 4 of The Widower's Girlfriend
Her head whips up and she freezes for a moment. Her mouth tips up in a wry smile. “Sure you want to take that chance?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She tilts her head. “Well, I don’t know. The way my luck is going, this cab will get a flat tire or something on the way to the hotel.”
I can’t help but grin, my body working on instinct here. The minute I asked to join her cab, I wasn’t engaging my brain any longer. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
She shrugs. “You’ve been warned!” She drops into the cab and scoots over, the open door being all the invitation I need.
The driver is looking at me expectantly so I place my bag in the trunk and hurry to get in. As soon as the door slams shut I want to jump back out. What am I doing prolonging my time with her? I have ten different reasons for not pursuing anything further and not one reason to be here, right next to her, where I can smell her flowery perfume and see how she cracks her knuckles when she’s nervous.
And yet, here I am.
“I’m Jemma Reed, by the way.” She glances at me and then stares at the road ahead. “Figured since you’ve fixed my bag, spotted food in my teeth, and have basically seen me at my worst, you might as well know my name.”
I smile at the side of her face. Jemma. A perfect name for her. Sheisquite rare, just like a gem. Her eyes slide over to look at me, gauging my reaction to her introduction. Maybe wondering if I’m an ax murderer sent to complete her crappy day.
“Nice to meet you, Jemma. I’m Walker.” I extend my arm and she slowly slides her hand into mine. An intimate jolt of awareness runs through me, so I give her hand a quick squeeze and let go. The seat cushion groans as I lean back into my corner of the tattered back seat. “Are you in Colorado for fun or business?” It’s the kind of mundane question two strangers would ask that’ll get us back on the right track.
She unzips her puffy vest, taking it off and setting it on top of her purse by her feet. The cab driver is blasting the heat, which is nice, but totally unnecessary right now. We both seem to be a bit overheated. I follow suit and take off my fleece-lined leather jacket.
“For fun. Hopefully.” She rolls her eyes and smiles, loosening the scarf around her neck. “You?”
I seem to be mesmerized by her disrobing, wondering what’s next to come off. When she settles back in her seat and folds her arms across her chest, I bring my gaze back to her face and see her looking at me with those big eyes. “Um, business. Definitely.” I let a beat pass, not wanting to get into why I’m here because that always leads to a long explanation about my late wife. Not really a topic I want to get into right now. “If you’re here for fun, you must love skiing, huh?”
She laughs, her face dancing with joy. Her broad smile is on full display and I like the way she doesn’t cover it up. “Nope! I can’t stand skiing actually, or snow for that matter. The location was not my choice, so I’m going to make the most of it while staying indoors. By a large fire, preferably.”
I find myself grinning, agreeing with her assessment of snow. “I hear you on that. I’m all about beaches and sunny skies, personally.”
Before she can reply, her phone starts singing the Micky Mouse Clubhouse theme song. I’m instantly curious why a grown woman chose that as her ringtone, but then again, she does look pretty young. Maybe she never grew out of her Disney phase.
Jemma digs through her purse, pulling out a cell phone charger, her brown leather wallet, and a variety of pens with pharmaceutical names on the sides, placing them on the seat bench between us. Finally finding her phone, she mouths “sorry” before tapping the answer button.
“Hi, Diana!” she answers with a smile, but then starts running her thumb nail up and down the outside seam of her jeans, a nervous habit I doubt she’s aware of. She listens, nodding her head occasionally. I can hear a woman’s voice chirping on the other end of the line, talking a million miles a minute, not letting Jemma get a single word in for several minutes.
“Yep, I know. I’m in a cab right now.” She bites her lip and listens again before answering. “Yeah, sorry, but—” She nods. “Okay, bye.”
Hanging up her phone, she slides it into her purse and looks out the windshield, a frown marring her beautiful features.
4
Jemma
“God, Jay, why did you book such a late flight? We’re all here, ready to go out, and now we have to wait on you. Are you at least close?”
Diana’s high-pitched voice in my ear is like nails on a chalkboard. What happened to polite conversation like “hey, how was your flight? Glad you got here safely?” I guess I should have expected this kind of reception.
“Yep, I know, I’m in a cab right now.” I glance out the window, not knowing where I am, but thinking I’m only ten minutes or so from the hotel.
“I’ll see if I can get the girls to wait, but I don’t know. It’s kind of putting a damper on our plans...” She trails off, like waiting ten more minutes is a big deal when we’re supposed to be here all weekend together.
“I know, I’m sorry, but—”
“Oh—gotta go. Call you back in a second!”
The loud click, followed by silence, cuts off my goodbye. I pull the phone from my ear and grit my teeth. Honestly, they’re so rude. I keep thinking things will get better or they’ll magically change back into the girls I went to high school with: sweet, funny, and considerate. But year after year of these girls’ trips and it’s not getting better. It’s only getting worse.
“That went well,” Walker adds dryly.
