the knob slowly, she peeped in. “Oh. Wow.” Her breath caught in her throat. The man was indeed a dream. “Damn, where’s a camera when you need one?” Since she didn’t have one handy, Journey committed to memory every facet of the vision before her.
Lying on his back on snow white sheets, his body looked like a sculpted bronze. Every muscle was carved with exquisite care. His shoulders were broad, his abs were perfection. A dusting of dark hair on his chest narrowed to the happiest of trails meandering its way down his abdomen to disappear beneath the covers. Journey had to tear her eyes away from that intriguing area of his body to look at his face. His beautiful eyes were closed, but she found much to appreciate in high cheekbones, full masculine lips, and a dark scruff of beard that she longed to rub her cheek against. Best of all was all that long, dark hair fanned out on the pillow. Whew, she’d give anything to see that sight every morning for the rest of her life.
There wasn’t much that could convince her to move, but a loud growl from her stomach did the trick. She grabbed his dirty clothes from the end of the bed, then eased away to make them breakfast. What the day would bring – she couldn’t hazard a guess.
…The warmth of the sun on his face caused Reno to open his eyes. For a few moments, he couldn’t figure out where in the world he could be. His hand soothed over impossibly soft sheets as he blinked at a box on the bedside table displaying glowing red numbers. Eight. Zero. Five. No, wait. One of the numbers changed. Now, it was eight, zero, six. “Oh, God.” Suddenly, it all came back to him.
Him checking on the children before heading to Waco. Clay joining them. The cabin being set on fire. Him leading Indians who weren’t Indians away from the cabin while Clay fled with the children to safety. Lastly, him riding through a wall of stone from the world he knew to a place he couldn’t begin to explain.
“Yea, that about sums it up.” Throwing his legs over the bed, Reno bowed his head and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to dispel the confusion plaguing him. No luck.
Rising to his feet, he stretched, checking out the tidy bedroom. Nice furniture. Solid wood. He ran a hand over what looked like hard maple. As his eyes scanned the wall, he noted a framed certificate of some kind. Stepping nearer, he read where Sojourner Stanton graduated from Fredericksburg High School on May 9, 2015. “2015.” Ye, Gods. Had one-hundred fifty years really gone by since he rode into that box canyon?
Stepping back, he spied the door to the adjoining bathroom. Last night, Journey had shown him how it all worked. “Indoor plumbing,” he mumbled. “A sink. A shower. And a toilet. An inside outhouse. Unbelievably fancy.” He’d used them last night. When he went it to check today, they were still there. Not a figment of his imagination.
After using the bathroom, he flushed like Journey told him to, staring down into the bottom of the toilet to see the water swirling round and round. The shower was equally fascinating. Time completely got away from him as he enjoyed the luxurious flow of warm water over his skin. When he stepped out to dry off and wrapped the fluffy white towel around him, Reno decided there were some things about this crazy ordeal he enjoyed.
In fact, there were quite a few things to his liking.
Upon finding his clothes missing, Reno donned the towel, and followed his nose to the kitchen. Heavenly smells were wafting down the hall. Pork, if he wasn’t mistaken. And fried eggs. And coffee. Amazing coffee.
When he turned the corner, the scent of the food wasn’t the only thing to make him smile. Dressed in clothes that barely covered all the important parts, his hostess was dancing to music only she could hear.
“Lose Your Blues. Everybody cut footloose.”
Journey was singing to the top of her lungs. When she whirled around, the metal tray she was holding slipped out of her fingers, clanking and bouncing on the Mexican tile floor. “Lord Have Mercy!” She yanked out the blue tooth and almost swallowed her tongue. “I didn’t hear you come in.” The sight of Reno Black standing in front of her wearing only a small white towel was a sight for sore eyes.