Page 95 of West Bound

“Love you, Phoenix West.”

“I love you, Peaches,” I tell her before I drift off to sleep and dream of our future.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

VIVIAN

“Heartburn” – Wafia

I walk through the hotel lobby with sunglasses and a cowboy hat on like I’m the western version of Carmen SanDiego.

I texted Phoenix earlier that my flight was delayed and I’d just grab an Uber when I got in. I wasn’t delayed and obviously he never checked.

Instead, I got here on time, locked myself into a stall at the airport, and made a quick costume change. From everyday passenger, to sultry cowgirl in a snap.

I wait in line behind a woman who’s bleach blonde hair is in desperate need of a root touch-up, and who should rethink her outfit choice. It’s slightly warm in Oklahoma, but not warm enough for a spaghetti strapped, silky mini dress and heeled sandals. It’s September for God’s sake.

Not to mention, it’s eleven o’clock in the morning. Definitely not brunch attire. That means she’s here for an “afternoon delight” with someone.

I pull out my phone to scroll through messages when I hear something I wish I never had.

“Hi. I’m checking in. The reservation is under Arizona East.”

Arizona East.

The name Phoenix uses when we make reservations so that he doesn’t have to worry about crazy fans tracking him down. But the name is so unusual that there’s no way this woman could be some rabid fan who happens to be good at the guessing game.

The guy at the front desk types away on his keyboard, then looks up and smiles at the woman.

“Here you go,” he says, handing her a keycard. “Enjoy your stay.”

Before blondie can turn around, I make fast for the elevator bank and wait for the doors to slide open.

When they do, I step in with the woman on my heels, and press the button for the twentieth floor. It’s the floor we always stay on.

The Wranglers, of course, have rooms for the team when they travel. But I’m able to make my own reservations and the station reimburses me for it. Phoenix refuses to let me pay for the room, always making reservations himself, and he never takes the money I try to send him after each stay. He said this was for us and he wasn’t about to let the station pay for it. Meanwhile, my per diem account is sitting with a hefty balance. Phoenix told me to spoil myself and spend it on shoes and more panties he can appreciate.

Well homeboy is about to be on the receiving end of my shoe when I stab him with it if this hoochie ends up where I think she’s going.

“What floor?” I ask her when she steps in.

“Twenty, please.” Her voice is nasally and too high pitched.

“Love your dress,” I say in fake admiration.

She runs her hand over her giant boobs and down her body and over the soft pink material.

“Thanks. It’s for my man. I’m surprising him and he loves when I wear this color.”

“Hm,” I reply and bite the inside of my cheek.

I grab my phone and pretend to be occupied with what was on the screen. I want her to walk ahead of me when we get to our floor so that I can follow behind.

The elevator stops, the doors open, and she walks out. I follow her with my heart in my throat, choking me with nervousness.

Please don’t let it be him.

I stay a few paces behind her and when she looks over her shoulder, I pretend to be searching my purse for my keycard.

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