Holy macaroni!
I pressed my forehead to the tile, trying to catch my breath, but the ache only deepened.
And then, instead of the kiss, I pictured him in another shower entirely. His head tilted back. Water pouring over his shoulders. His hand between his legs. My name on his lips.
“Ohhhmyoggh…”
It hit me harder than I’d expected. My knees nearly buckled beneath me, and I hadn’t even realized the water was only lukewarm now.
Fluttery breaths shook my frame, and when I leaned forward to turn off the water, my hands were shaking.
It had been so long.
When I finally had the strength to step out of the tub and wrap myself in a towel, most of the steam had dissipated.
I pulled on a fresh T-shirt and my old faithful patchwork skirt, towel-dried my hair, and dropped onto the bed with my phone. No new messages. No texts from Noah. Just another missed call from Leo. Delete. And a thumbs-up from Ashley on the selfie I’d sent earlier.
I scrolled back to the texts Noah and I had exchanged the night before.
Before the kiss.
Before we’d both agreed it was a mistake.
I stood up. The room felt too quiet. Which made me more restless, and then my stomach grumbled for the first time all day.
I grabbed my key, slid into my sandals, and headed for the elevator.
The hotel lounge was easy to find—dim but not dark, lit by amber sconces and a few well-placed lamps. Somewhere above, a soft instrumental version of a song I half-recognized floated from hidden speakers.
I wasn’t looking for him.
Truly.
I was hungry. For food. Maybe a cocktail.
I slid onto a barstool at the far end, tucked my bag under the counter, and picked up the leather-bound menu. I was halfway through debating sliders versus flatbread when I heard it.
"I'm so sorry, Tay. I didn’t mean to screw things up.”
I stilled. The voice came from somewhere just out of view, on the far side of the bar. I tilted my head.
Joe.
“I-I thought we were past the steep part. I should’ve downshifted sooner, I just…messed up.”
There was a pause, long enough for me to imagine Tay’s expression.
“You can’t ride the brakes on a grade like that and expect everything to stay cool.” Her voice came out tight and tired.
Oh…Joe.
I remembered the engine groaning on the descent, the sharp tang of something burning. The way we’d all gone quiet for a second when the bus lurched.
Apparently, there was a learning curve.
I stared at the menu, not really seeing it. I wasn’t mad. He was new. Whereas a few days ago, I might have resented being his first, for some reason, it just rolled off of me now.
“Well,” Tay muttered. “Right now I’ve got the guides at Mesa Verde, the tour company, and thirty-eight passengers totally pissed at me. And the only thing I know for sure is I’m not getting paid enough for this.”
