Page 57 of Hang the Moon
He let out his breath slowly, like air escaping from a dying balloon. “Comfy.”
Annie pressed her lips together but the crinkling at the corners of her eyes gave her away. At least she wasn’t upset by this wrench in their plans. In fact, it had been her idea to stop for the night and wait for the earliest ferry rather than drive the long way back to the city. “It could be worse?”
Against the wall, a rhythmic thumping started, joined by a chorus of grunts.
The back of his neck burned, a flush creeping up his chest, steadily bleeding up his jaw.
“Never mind.” She blushed prettily. “This is pretty bad.”
The lamp on the bedside table wobbled, the headboard from the room next door slamming into the wall. He winced. “I think I liked it better when you were being the unerringly optimistic one.”
Her blond brows rose. “The place definitely has a certain... je ne sais quoi.”
He palmed his face and groaned. “That’s a polite way of saying this place sucks.”
“Hey,you’rethe one who asked me to blow sunshine up your ass.”
“I’ve always wondered about that phrase. How does one begin to blow sunshine, let alone up someone’s ass? A very sturdy straw?”
Her laughter filled the room, sharp and sweet. “Gives new meaning to looking on the bright side.”
“I guess it does, doesn’t it?” His laughter tapered off, leaving his chest filled with pleasant warmth.
High-pitched, breathy moans joined the symphony of lewd sounds next door.
“TV?” he suggested, stripping off his jacket and tossing it atop the flimsy fiberboard dresser, suddenly so warm he could hardly stand it.
Annie circled the bed, plucking the remote off the nightstand. “Let’s see what channels we have.”
She collapsed on the bed, making a face when the mattress’s springs squealed. She shifted atop the covers, getting comfortable. “It’s not bad.” She patted the space beside her.
He swallowed hard and jerked his chin at the chair. “I’m good.”
“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Annie stared.
She was right. They could share this bed. No big deal. So what if he already knew how sweet she tasted and that he wanted her in the worst way? Annie was addictive, but no matter how fucking phenomenal kissing her had been, he didn’t just want Annie, he wanted her to want him. Want him for longer than one night. Especially one night in a dingy motel that smelled faintly of cigarettes and stale sweat, with the soundtrack of some other couple sounding as if they were filming an amateur porno next door.
He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and tugged off his shoes, leaving his socks on, because while the place appeared clean, looks could be deceiving. Annie smiled and turned the TV on as soon as he’d settled back against the headboard. Earsplitting static immediately filled the room.
“Yikes.” Annie flipped the channel, sighing in relief when the picture came through. “Okay, that’s promising. It’s golf, but it’s... something.” She navigated past C-SPAN, a cooking competition, easily a dozen channels. He was about to suggest they look for a channel guide when Annie gasped. “No way.”
It took him a split second to realize the show she’d stopped on wasn’t in English, instead in French.
“I can’t believe this is on. Then again, we’re kind of close to Canada, so I guess it makes sense that they might have a channel in French.”
“What is this?”
“L’amour est dans le pré.It’s a French dating show.” A soft smile flirted at the edges of her mouth. “I bet you’d like it.”
It sounded like Annie liked it, which was enough of an endorsement for him. “Sounds good.”
Annie’s smile broadened as she set the remote down between them. She leaned back against the pillows, her arm brushing his.
One episode and he was hooked. Granted, because it was entirely in French and un-subtitled, he couldn’t understand a word anyone said. But laughter and love were universal; he didn’t need to speak French to appreciate the magic of watching two people tentatively fall in love on-screen. Annie’s sporadic translations did help.
