It had been an extreme circumstance. She’d just been in an accident. This was the part where a normal person would think, gosh, I’m lucky to be alive. But, was she?
Her dress sat in a damp heap on the floor, just beside her ruined shoes. Peeking into the motel room, she looked for Giovanni and found the room silent and empty.
Spotting a small suitcase on the only chair, she glanced at the door. Would he mind? She was in a towel, for God’s sake. She needed clothes. She’d pay for the damn dry cleaning if he said something.
Crossing the room, she flipped open the luggage and paused at the sight of scribbled notes. Pages and pages of jotted down bits lay on top of his clothes. She read a few lines and rolled her eyes, supposing that could be funny if anyone with an actual sense of humor said it.
Sliding a plain white T-shirt out of the suitcase, she closed the lid and returned to the bathroom. The material covered her to the knee.
She hung her dress over the shower curtain rod with her towel, and rinsed her panties in the sink, leaving them discreetly draped over the faucet in the tub to dry.
The door to the motel opened and closed, a burst of cold air creeping past her ankles. She awkwardly moved to the bathroom door and stood there, watching him shake the flurries off his shoulders and hair as he tossed several candy bars and bags of chips onto the bed.
He met her stare and froze. The room shrank around them.
“There’s an ice machine. Electrics still off, but it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there, so it’s full.”
She frowned, unsure why he thought she cared about ice.
“For your face,” he said.
Her hand self-consciously rose to her cheek. It was too late for ice. Ice only helped right after the hit. The bruise had formed. She had no choice but to wait it out. “I’m okay.”
He glanced at the bed where a potpourri of vending machine food lay. “This was the best I could find for breakfast.”
When he looked back at her, it was as if he just then registered what she was wearing. The shirt hid more than her dress had, but for some reason, she felt more exposed. Did he know she wore nothing underneath?
His gaze lifted to her chest and she crossed her arms, hiding the way the soft cotton clung to the unbound tips of her nipples. The motion caused the fabric to rise at her thighs, and she fidgeted, pushing it back to her knees.
“That’s my shirt.”
“My dress was soaked from the snow.”
“Now, it’s gonna smell like you.”
She drew back, offended. “Do I stink?”
Rather than answer, he kicked his sneakers off by the door and tore open a bag of corn chips. He shoved the food across the bed and climbed under the covers, sitting up against the dated headrest.
She glanced at the chair holding his suitcase, unsure if she was welcome to sit on the bed. “How long are you staying here?”
“Until Sunday.”
She remembered his family had big Sunday dinners each week at Finn’s parents’ house on the mountain. She had attended a few. They were loud and crazy and she never felt comfortable around so many people.
She took a small step toward the bed. Her stomach grumbled quietly at the sight of food.
“Where do you go after that?”
He popped a chip into his mouth, not looking at her. “Wherever I find work.”
She frowned. “Where do you live?” He hadn’t been in Jasper Falls for years. She heard rumors that he was doing standup, some jokes that he left to attend clown college.
“I had a place in Jersey, just outside of the city.”
Had? So he really was back. His living situation wasn’t any of her business, so she didn’t know why she cared.
Taking another step toward the bed, she eyed the bag of pretzels. “Can I have some?” She casually waved a hand at the pile.
He eyed her. “What do I get?”
Taking a step back, she scowled. “What do you get?” What did he think this was?
He chuckled and kicked a foot under the blanket, sending a ripple of chips and candy in her direction. “I’m just messing with you.”
She exhaled—relieved.
Then he mumbled, “I’d rather stick my dick in a bear trap.” He popped a chip in his mouth and she glared at him.
They were stranded for God knew how long. She’d hoped they could at least be civil to each other, but Giovanni had never been the most mature guy.
Snatching the bag of pretzels off the bed, she went to the chair and shoved his suitcase onto the floor.
“Whoa! You mind?”
“Not at all.” She dropped into the chair and ripped open the pretzels, holding his cold stare as she popped one into her mouth.