Page 30 of How Dare You
This blonde grump is a bit of a mystery. She wouldn’t be here unless she wanted to be, and yet all signs point to her not wanting to be here. She’s not pleased to be sharing such a small place with me, and she’s livid about missing work. I’m shocked she hasn’t asked me about my project again. Although, maybe she’s more perceptive than I’m giving her credit for, and she realizes I’m not revealing it to her until I’m ready.
Her movements grow frantic when she gets to the leather bag, pulling out pens, a notebook, another notebook, her planner, a ruler, pencils, an eraser and scattering them across the bed at random. “I should have known they’d do this to me,” she breathes, venom thick in her quiet words.
“What’s that?” I ask.
She waves an elegant hand at the scattered supplies on the bed. “No computer.”
That laptop is almost as important to her as her planner. “They seem committed to making sure you rest.”
“It’s pretty hard to rest when my mind is racing with things I need to accomplish and no way to complete any of them.” She gathers up the items on the bed, carefully placing them back in her bag. When she holds up her phone, she practically snarls.
She’s gonna hate this. “Would you like me to show you the reception rock?”
Eyes closed; she takes a steadying breath. “Reception rock?”
Pushing off the door frame, I answer, “Yeah, it’s the rock that gets reception.”
“Yes, show me the rock.” The words are clipped, but she follows me outside and down the stairs.
I point into the almost dark of twilight, where a bump in the desert is barely visible through the patio’s lights. “Do you see that rock over there?”
“That rock?” She doesn’t even look. “It’s all rocks.”
Stepping in closer, so my chest is pressed against her slim shoulders, I pull my pointed hand into her eyeline. “It’s the big one with the sort-of ledge on it. About twenty yards, maybe thirty. Next to the gnarled Joshua Tree with all the branches on top. If you climb up on the rock, it’s actually a nice seat. Let me grab you a flashlight.”
“That part of my phone is working,” she says, walking off toward the reception rock.
Her voice carries over the distance occasionally, but I can’t make out words, just tone. Irritation, exasperation, a little condescension. I put together a fire and sit back to read my book. It’s fully dark by the time she returns, her phone’s flashlight shining aggressively through the night.
She doesn’t address me, just goes inside without a word. A few hours later when I come in, she has the lights off, presumably already in bed. “You asleep already?” I whisper. No response.
Making as little noise as possible, I brush my teeth, strip down to my boxers, and turn the air conditioner down a few extra degrees. I can just make out the shape of her in the dark, so I quietly step around to my side of the bed, the one closest to the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice cuts through the darkness.
“Getting in bed.” I pull back the covers.
The curtains are pulled back on both of the curved windows in the bedroom area, allowing a view of the stars that shine a dim light on Devon’s figure as she sits up and faces me. “Don’t you dare.”
Her threat makes me smile, but I’m careful not to touch her as I lie down under the blanket. The minty smell of her soap, or maybe shampoo, lingers on the pillow.
“What’s your game, McCoy?” I can’t see them, but I know her eyes narrow on me. “You couldn’t get me in bed on the first try, so now this?”
When I move to fold my arm behind my head, I brush against her bare leg. How bare is she? The shape of a baggy t-shirt is clear in the night, but is she wearing shorts? Panties? What does she sleep in? “If you’d taken me up on the tour, you’d know this is the only bed. I won’t touch you until you ask me to.”
I wish I could see her face, because I’m sure it’s hardened into something even more fierce and beautiful than usual.
“What do you mean this is the only bed?” She bypasses the part of my statement I wish she would’ve hooked onto. “It’s a trailer. Everything is supposed to fold out into places to sleep. That’s the way these things are designed.”
“Not sure if you noticed, but I’ve changed just about everything about the original design. I took all the other beds out because I, because—” I stutter on my response, not wanting to bring up Crystal, not with Devon in my bed. When I started tearing apart the trailer, we had just gotten engaged and I was hoping we’d take vacations together in it, so it only needed one bed. As irritated with me as Devon may be, she’s still patient. She doesn’t rush me as I come up with an answer. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“You can sleep on the floor. Or on the sofa.” Her words leave no room for argument.
She doesn’t get it. Everyone else in her life lets her be the boss, but I won’t. “The sofa’s too small. Not interested, but you’re welcome to it if you’d like to sleep curled up in a ball.”
She sighs, “A gentleman would give me the bed.”
“Another thing I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.” Rolling onto my side brings my chest close enough to her crossed legs to feel their warmth. “I never claimed to be a gentleman.”