drug dealers?
All I can hope is maybe the Theodore Winston, my Dad, was set up somehow. Maybe, just maybe, the drugs were planted in our boat. It’s a long shot.
I sit in the middle of the bed and exhale so deep, my entire upper body sags. I glance around the room, feeling defeated. I can tell this place was a motel before, but whoever renovated it did a great job at making it feel warm and cozy like a home. The walls are painted a warm beige, and there is an accent wall colored in bright burnt orange with a gold star hanging in the middle of it. The bed is King size, with a four-post canopy bed. There’s a sheer metallic gold material hanging from the ceiling to drape down on all sides of the bed. It’s gorgeous.
I grab a pillow and hold it close to my chest. For the first time in a long time, I’ve never felt so lost. What do we do? Where do we go? Do I have us go back home? Of course I do, right? I mean, it’s what we know. It’s where we are from. Staying here makes zero sense.
A knock on the door sounds, and I debate on answering it. It’s late. I don’t feel like talking to my sisters. I want to turn on the TV and get lost in House Hunters or something and not think. I want my brain to turn to mush for the night.
So I ignore whoever is at the door.
Bang, bang, bang.
I groan and throw the pillow off the bed, then tiptoe to the door to look through the peephole.
Fudge.
It’s Kansas.
I stay silent and watch him mumble something to himself. I shift my gaze away and flatten my hands against the door, nibbling on my lip.
He clears his throat and knocks again.
I fluff my hair to get my curls nice and bouncy. Taking a deep breath, I wrap my hand around the gold knob and twist. I open the door all the way and make sure to greet him with a smile. “Hey.”
His shoulders sag in relief when he sees me and offers me a grin in return. “Hi.”
Hearing his voice after not hearing it all day has made my mood so much better. A cold wind blows, and my bare legs shiver when a few flakes of snow swoop in and swirl around my feet. “Come in, come in. You must be freezing.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He takes a step forward, and snow and ice fall onto the welcome mat as he cleans off the bottoms of his shoes.
He takes up so much space. I knew he was a big guy but seeing him up close like this makes me realize how small I am in comparison. I crane my neck back to get a good look at him, and he stares down at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes and cold red cheeks.
I close the door with a soft click as he shrugs off his jacket.
I can’t help it. I watch as he does the most basic thing a person can do. Taking off a jacket isn’t a big deal, but it is when he does it. Kansas slides one arm out of the jacket, showing a plain green Henley shirt. My god, it’s hugging all of his muscles. I can tell he works out. I can see the ropes of muscle in his arm. The shirt stretches over his bicep, and when he shrugs off the other sleeve, then hangs the coat on the hook next to the door, I swallow a whimper.
The man should only be allowed to wear a Henley.
Eeek. Oh my god.
His nipples are hard, and I can see they are pierced.
Look away. Don’t get caught.
I can’t help it. I see the outline of two metal bars, and my lips begin to tingle for a taste…
I wrap my arms around my waist to stop myself from reaching out, then sit down on the couch that’s in front of the coffee table. If I give myself space from Kansas, that will be good. I scoot all the way in the corner and crisscross applesauce my legs.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, proceeding to take a seat on the couch too.
Of course my plan would fail.
There’s only one cushion of space between us, and he wraps one arm around the back of the sofa, then stretches the other across the arm of the couch. He’s getting real comfortable, making himself right at home.