“Lying fucking asshole.”
“You said it.” I stopped to blow my nose. The sound was anything but pretty. Yes, care of the delightful walk in the rain last night, I’d woken up with a raging head cold. Sore throat, red and runny nose, and pounding head. It basically felt like someone had hung me upside down and filled my nasal passages with quick-dry cement. Just when you thought things couldn’t get better.
“God, you sound horrible,” she said. “To think, he friend-zoned you before you’d ever even met. I’d had such high hopes for him.”
“You and me both.” I sighed.
“And I encouraged you.” A pause. “Shouldn’t you be pointing out that deep down you were right and I was wrong? You should probably also be lecturing me about your uncomplicated-life theory.”
“Meh. You’ve heard it all before and I don’t have the energy.”
“Aw, you poor thing. If you can’t even manage an ‘I told you so,’ then you really are feeling sucky.” She huffed out a breath.
Valerie and I’d had each other’s back since the same group of bullies had targeted us in eighth grade. I’d always been mousy, clutzy, and generally clueless. An easy target for the cool kids wanting to establish their supremacy in the school hallways. Back then, Valerie had been Vincent, and he’d never fitted in either. We’d nursed each other through all manner of insults, broken hearts, and then a sex change. So I guess it fell under her job description to get up in arms on my behalf now. But I, on the other hand, was done. Mostly dead and emotionally spent. Every last fuck I had to give had fled during the night, never to be heard from again.
“I’m coming out there,” she announced, voice firm.
I scrunched up my face. “Why on earth would you come out here? Hopefully, I’ll be on a plane home this afternoon. Tonight at the latest.”
“Doesn’t matter. This Joe-Eric-jerkoff needs his ass kicked. I’m coming.”
“You’re not coming.”
“I’m coming and I’m wearing my fiercest pointy-toed stilettos,” she said. “You haven’t seen these ones, they’re new. Leopard print. That boy’s ass is grass.”
“Oh, that reminds me. The heels got trashed.”
She gasped. “Not the half-price YSL!”
“Yep. I told you I couldn’t be trusted with designer.”
“But those shoes looked so good on you. That settles it. I’m definitely coming out there to hurt him.”
I took a deep breath. Through my mouth, not my nose. My nose just wasn’t an option.
“God, you sound like shit,” said Val.
I grunted and blew my nose. A mucus factory, that was me.
“Yuck. That’s disgusting. Seriously, I’m not sure you should fly in that condition,” she said, voice concerned.
“I’ll be fine.” I shoved my wad of tissues back into my jeans pocket. “I just need coffee.”
Even from behind my sunglasses the early morning light dazzled. I stepped out of the hotel and paused, giving my eyes a chance to adjust. Downtown Coeur d’Alene was quiet first thing in the morning, with the odd car cruising by, and a couple of signs advertising cafés sat out on the sidewalk farther up the street. All of the assorted fancy-clothes and gift-shop-type places were still closed. The cool air tickled dangerously at my nose and throat. Stupid cold.
A heavy sigh from Val. “Are you sure I can’t come out there and commit violence in your name?”
“I appreciate the thought.”
“There’s lots of woods in that area. I promise they’d never find the body.”
“Be rational,” I said. “You know you hate nature.”
“You never let me have any fun.”
“I know, I’m the worst.”
“Call me if you change your mind,” she said. “I’ll be here … sharpening my shoes.”
“Thanks.” I laughed softly. It was the only semblance of mirth I could manage. “Later.”
Coffee. Right.
I could do this.
A beat-up silver Bronco sat at the curb. The thing was basically a monster truck—probably normal around these parts. Getting up hills in heavy snow would take some work. Though it wasn’t the truck that caught my attention. Nope, it was the ridiculous tangled mass of blond hair and beard pressed against the side window that made me stop in my tracks.
Damn. It couldn’t be. I stepped closer. “Eri … Joe?”
Sleeping Beauty slept on.
Don’t tap the glass. Let sleeping stalkers lie. Don’t tap the glass.
And yet … ever so politely, I tapped on the glass.
“Huh?” A groan accompanied the batting of eyelids and much squinting. “Yeah, yeah. I’m awake.”
Slowly, the window rolled down.
“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “Morning.”
We just kind of stared at each other, perplexed.
“You slept in your car?” I asked.
A shrug. “Didn’t want you to leave before we had a chance to talk.”
I turned away, crossed my arms.
“Look, Alex … can we talk?” The car door cracked open and I took one giant step back as he stood tall on the sidewalk. He looked beyond rumpled, fitting, given the circumstances. Before beginning his vigil, he’d obviously changed out of last night’s wet clothes. Long legs were encased in another worn pair of blue jeans, and a faded gray hoodie covered his upper half. The width of his mighty shoulders was stretching the material a little. Equally large feet, or at least seriously large sneakers, completed the outfit. I wondered, did guys ever buy oversize shoes to try and benefit from the feet-to-penis-size belief? Was there a market for that? And I was standing there staring at the man’s crotch in a total daze.
My gaze darted to his face, cracked wide yet again on a yawn. Thank goodness he hadn’t caught me. That would have been bad. I really needed to get my sick wandering thoughts under control.
“Please?” he asked, eyes all intense.
“I’m pretty sure we covered everything last night.”
For a moment he hung his head, then he looked me straight in the eye. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t. Please. Let me buy you breakfast. You need food, right? Coffee?”
Sleeping in his car definitely showed commitment. Plus, I did need coffee. “Okay.”
He smiled. It wasn’t a full-out grin, more a cautious curving of the lips. “Great. Thanks.”
I nodded.
“There’s a good place just down here,” he said, stuffing his hands in his jeans pocket and giving me side-eyes as we started walking.
Man, this cold sucked. I pulled out my wad of tissues and blew my nose for the umpteenth time this morning. Gah. Already, I could feel my poor nostrils chafing. Aloe vera Kleenex was urgently required, along with more aspirin. “Is there a pharmacy nearby?”
“About a five-minute drive. You sick?” He gave me a dubious once-over. “You’re not looking so hot, but I didn’t want to get in any more trouble by saying something.”
“Wise.”
The man held his silence.
“I must have caught a chill last night from walking in the rain.”
He winced. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged.
“Be happy to take you to the pharmacy or wherever you want to go.”
“That’s okay,” I said, ambling alongside him. Walking any faster would have required energy. “I can go in the Uber on the way to the airport.”
No reply.
Halfway up the next block he stopped outside a café, holding open the door. “Here we are.”
The place seemed nice. Bright green walls covered in community notices. Only a few of the shiny old diner-style aluminum tables were taken this early in the day. He pulled out a chair for me by the window and I sat, mumbling my thanks. Breakfast was going to be awkward as all hell. Maybe I’d just caffeinate and run. Hit the road to Spokane. Sure, I’d be loitering around the airport for hours and hours, but even that had to beat rehashing my oh-so-recent embarrassing past with this guy.
What I really wanted to do was swan-dive into a big soft bed and sleep for about a week. Too bad that wasn’t an option.
Opposite me, Joe sat forward in his seat, arms braced on the table. I’d returned to my usual attire, skinny jeans and boots (there were only two pairs of socks and about a hundred Band-Aids covering my poor blistered feet) and a black bulky, comfy sweater. No makeup or hairstyling, that’s for sure. If the man was surprised by the lack of last night’s glamour, it didn’t show.
With all the body-shaping underwear, lip gloss, heels, and tiny dress, you could almost say I’d been fibbing about who I was. His lie, however, left my Spanx and push-up bra way behind.
We both stayed silent, watching each other warily.
A cute, perky waitress appeared, smile stretched wide at the sight of Joe. A curious gaze looked me over, then dismissed me. I swear, it took the woman no more than a nanosecond to decide I wasn’t any competition for my disheveled, hirsute, tattooed companion. Little did she know I’d always thought Jean Grey in X-Men got it right, Cyclops was a way better bet than Wolverine. All of that testosterone and bad attitude mixed with a scruffy face and general give no shits about his appearance was not so wonderful. In all honesty, I’d take cool, calm, and well kept over anger management and body hair issues any day of the week. Joe was all hers. She turned slightly and hitched her hip, subtly blocking me out of the conversation.