The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,57
muscles that covered his ribs.
His laughter rumbled against her ear. “Guess so.”
Amanda gave him a quick kiss and rolled off his body. “What table games do you like?”
“None of them.” The mattress shifted when Hagan threw his legs over and sat on the side of the bed.
“I thought you liked puzzles.”
“I do.” He stretched, then walked toward the bathroom. “Puzzles always have an answer. Gambling is a losing race against odds.”
She’d never compared the two before but agreed. “Puzzles are fixed.”
With a toothbrush in his mouth, he brushed naked as a blue jay and mumbled, “Yup.” He held up a finger, went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth, and came back easier to understand. “The end point’s always good, like the happily-ever-after in a fairytale.”
“You’re blowing my mind a wee bit.”
He laughed and shuffled through his luggage. “I’ll try to make that a habit.”
“Please.” She grinned but was still thinking about gambling and puzzles and the role each played in her life.
Hagan threw his clothes onto the bed and picked up his phone. He scrolled and read and scrolled again, finally tossing the phone onto the mattress. “Do you want to get in the shower first?”
He’d processed emails or the daily news, and she still hadn’t moved on from what he’d said. They were surrounded by puzzles and gambles. Some were easy answers. Others offered satisfaction. Whether she wanted to get into the shower first would either be yes or no—a fifty-fifty shot like flipping a coin with no discernable risk. Still, he’d lost complete control the moment he’d asked when she wanted to shower.
She hadn’t had enough coffee or sex to make sense of how this applied to her life—or maybe she’d had too much. Either way, it was clear that she’d drastically changed the way she lived, subconsciously betting against the odds—and herself. Amanda beelined for the bathroom. “I’ll jump in first.”
She busied herself, not sure if she wanted to find clarity or clear her thoughts. The shower warmed as she brushed her teeth. Steam shaded her reflection in the mirror, and Amanda stepped into the water, comb in hand, working the bedhead knots out of her hair.
Was she a puzzle or a gamble? A definite answer didn’t come to mind, but she clearly played the odds in the way she lived. Amanda didn’t want a high-stakes score. But she was certain that catastrophe was only one move away.
The hot water rained over her as she reached for a bottle and shampooed her hair. What about Hagan? Was he either a puzzle or gamble, and did he live life that same way?
Thick, soapy bubbles slid off her shoulders, landing on her feet. Amanda stepped under the spray. The shampoo suds sluiced down her arms, and she lathered a washcloth and massaged her skin. Squeaky clean and in no rush, she decided Hagan was neither. She wouldn’t box him in the way she boxed in everything else.
Amanda twisted the temperature knob and waited until the water felt as if it had been pumped from the artic. Freezing water didn’t offer clarity, and she jumped out. With a towel hastily wrapped around her breasts, she searched the hazy mirror and swiped the steam away until her reflection appeared.
“You’re a gambler.” She studied her image and ignored the remnants of mascara. “You might need help.” What did people say? Knowing the problem was half the battle? That was why she was in Lebanon, after all. Or had she gone cold turkey? Meeting Hagan. Falling for him, too. She’d grown close to someone, breaking every rule.
Did that mean she’d stopped gambling, or unwittingly come to accept higher risk?
Amanda rubbed her temples. How had she not realized that odds dictated her life? At least until Hagan had shown up and changed the damn game. Or had he clarified the terms?
Hagan knocked on the door. “Your phone’s been blowing up.”
She blinked to clear her head. Instead of shaking away her thoughts, she’d seen everything with more clarity. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a second.”
Amanda refastened the towel around her chest and wrapped another around her hair. She knew the caller had been Halle. Shah would’ve texted, and if her parents had called, they’d only have had the time and patience to reach out once.
Hagan stepped into the bathroom as she came out. “Must have been quite the shower.”
She looked at him curiously. “Hm?”
He hooked a towel near the shower and twisted the knob. “You’ve got a little skip to your step.”
She felt that