Chapter Fifteen
Tiffany dragged the lawn chair outside her room into the shade. The motel might not look like much, but the Wi-Fi was fast and free. Pulling out her iPad, she made notes. She dropped Ryan’s mother a quick email about wedding planners. Patti would find the very best person Illinois had to offer.
Dakota disappeared into his room, probably to make wax dolls of her and melt them.
Thomas headed off across the parking lot. The water bottle suggested a walk, as did the trainers and the hat pulled low over his eyes. It wouldn’t surprise her if he came back with an alligator in tow, wrestled into submission.
After about two hours, she’d gone through every wedding dress site she could find. Any more ivory and lace and she might lose it and run screaming across the parking lot. Somehow, nothing really appealed to her. She must’ve gone through pictures of over a thousand dresses. Some were beautiful, but she couldn’t really see herself in any of them. The models all had that look on their faces. The one that said they were living the happily-ever-after thing.
Try as she might, she couldn’t picture herself with that face. Maybe because she’d seen love’s young dream go up in flames and gotten singed in the process. Possibility two was more disturbing. The groom standing beside the glowing bride refused to take Ryan’s shape. Even worse, when he did take shape, she couldn’t get the image of Daddy standing right beside him to separate.
Heat haze shimmered over the scrubby brush on the far side of the horizon. Thomas had been gone for over two hours now. Maybe if she’d spent less time scanning the parking lot for signs of him and more time concentrating on her wedding, she might have gotten something done. At least nailed down a dress designer who appealed. She acted out of concern, nothing more. A quick bit of research on crime statistics reassured her. And made an excellent excuse not to look at the table-setting sites Ryan’s mother had sent her. Patti made a determined case for cream and black, like the royal wedding. Tiffany nearly suggested orange and green, just to mess with her.
Pamphlets from the Grand Canyon lay in the bottom of her bag. She hadn’t input any of the information yet. Normally, she couldn’t wait to start messing with statistics, to take something and put it into numbers. The blank page stared back at her. There must be something. She flipped back a few pages to see what she’d been working on. Her scribbles ran across the page. She could finish comparing crime stats across states—that might relax her enough to stop looking for Thomas.
Dakota tramped past a little while later. Grunted something about going to get a burger and disappeared in the direction of the diner.
How much longer could Thomas take? God, he could’ve hiked back to Chicago by now. Okay, not really, but still, it was a bit irresponsible to go hiking off into the wilds of Utah when he didn’t know the area. Crime might be low, but there could be snakes and scorpions and mountain lions out there in the dark smudge of the mountains against the horizon. Definitely mountain lion territory.
An email pinged onto her screen and she opened it. Patti wanted to know about flowers, bridesmaids—who and how many—venue, china, and flatware. Seriously, flatware? How important could that be? The list of questions scrolled right off her screen and she closed the email. Another email followed right on its heels. Patti’s planning frenzy, the sequel. God, she couldn’t deal with this right now.
A truck chugged to life and snaked its way out of the parking lot.
She shifted her chair back into the shade and out of the moving sun. Damn, the heat wouldn’t quit, but it beat sitting in her dingy motel room.
Clutching a takeout bag, Dakota slouched back, looking only a little bit less like a serial killer. He vanished into his motel room without a word.
Her phone vibrated in her lap.
Thomas Hunter: Nice dress.
Her heart gave a jaunty little thump. She tried not to smile, but failed. No sign of him in the parking lot or the corridor. He couldn’t have gotten past her without her seeing him.
Where are you? She hit Send.
Her phone vibrated. Watching you.
That’s creepy!!!!
You have a point.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was such a dumbass.
Her phone shook again.
Are you still ignoring me?
I’m trying, but you being a stalker is making it difficult.
“Hey.” He appeared right beside her.
Tiffany almost dropped her phone she jumped so high. “Where the hell did you come from?”
He propped one shoulder against a supporting pillar. Dust and sweat streaked his face and arms. His T-shirt clung to the angles of his chest and belly.
Trust me, I’m a Jedi, she read.
“I followed a path and it came out behind the motel.” He made a vague motion with his hand.
“Okay.”
Tiffany fiddled with the hemline of her dress, which had ridden halfway up her thighs. Would he notice? Look at her legs, like he had when she wore her shorts? Get a grip, Tiffany.
“About this morning.”
Huge warning signs flashed behind her eyes. “There is nothing to say about this morning.” She couldn’t look at him, so she took out her phone and fiddled.
“You don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But I have something to say.” He crouched down in front of her, his legs framing hers, his hands on the arms of her chair.
Tiffany was forced to look at him.
“You’re right,” he said. “You and me, a really bad idea. Especially considering all we have going on.” Thigh muscle bulged under his cargo shorts. Coarse hair, slightly golden in the sun, covered the muscle.
A twang that felt suspiciously like disappointment caught behind her breastbone. “There is no you and me.”
“Yeah, there kind of is.” He ducked his head, meeting her downcast gaze. “I like you, Tiffany, and I’m seriously attracted to you. This morning, you were sweaty and half-naked and you slammed right into me.” He shrugged. “I’m a man, I reacted.”
It really didn’t help when he said shit like that. It crept over her in slow, insistent burn. “I can’t be attracted to you.”
“I know.” Thomas’s voice stroked over her and she shivered. “And I can’t be attracted to you. When this is over, I’m going to see my family for a bit and then it’s back to Zambia.”
Gone. No more Thomas Hunter. It shouldn’t hurt, but it kind of did. “I know all this.”
“You’re a forever kind of girl, and I’m a right now kind of guy,” he said.
Irrationally, she wanted to punch him as he said that. “Do you have a point?” It came out with a lash of bitch on the end, and she winced.
“Yeah, I do. I’m a man and you’re . . .” He shrugged.
What? What am I? What did he see when he looked at her?
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to jump you,” he said. “So, do you think you could stop ignoring me as well as what happened. It’s going to be a long few days if you keep that up.”
She didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Time to put her schoolgirl back in her box. Along with the purring kitty trying to mentally rub up against him. He’d caught her off balance that morning, but she was better now. Really, she was. They could be mature about this. Just because they had a little bit of a spark between them didn’t mean they couldn’t handle it. “Okay, but to be clear, nothing is going to happen.”
Up went the mouthy eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Tiffany followed the direction of his gaze and froze. Her book rested on the seat beside her. “It’s my diary.”
He titled his head and studied her book. “It’s very pink.”
“Yes, it is.” She picked it up and shoved it into her bag.
He watched her, two lines creasing between his eyes. He was putting things together in his head. She recognized that look. The silence prickled between them.
“You hungry?”
The subject change caught her off guard. Her shoulders drooped from their defensive stance. “A little.”
“Let’s get something to eat.” He held his hand out to her.
Her hand slipped into his like she’d done it a hundred times before. Heat spread over her palm and up her forearm. Part of her brain told her to tug her hand away, but the rest of her was all for leaving it there.
He tightened his grip slightly and pulled her to her feet.
Her forward motion carried her much closer to him than she expected.
He stilled.
Tiffany took in a deep breath of sun, laundry detergent, and man. Oh, boy, this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.
He squeezed his fingers and then let go. One side of his mouth tilted up. “I guess no hand holding.”
“You guessed right.” She went for a light tone, but it came off not sounding quite right. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand, but she could still feel his touch.
“Let’s get you some lettuce leaves and a piece of celery.”
* * *
Corey’s lip quivered as they loaded up the Miura.
Thomas wasn’t sure what upset the man more, the loss of the vintage Lamborghini or the loss of Tiffany, aka Delilah. Sentiment, however, didn’t stop him from presenting Thomas with the invoice.
Tiffany snatched it from his hand and doled out cash from a wad of greenbacks fat enough to make a drug dealer happy. By the light in Corey’s eye, she’d left him a little something extra. Thomas had her pegged for a charge card, no-limit credit card kind of girl. “No black American Express card?”
“No.” She spun away from him and stalked out of Corey’s office to the parking lot.
Okay, it had been a rude question. Still, he got the feeling it was more than that.
Her little group of admirers stood gathered for The Departure.
Hank loaded the Miura up with all the fervor of a born enthusiast. He then spent the next half hour lecturing Thomas on the trick to driving a trailer. Thomas listened patiently and nodded at the appropriate moments. He didn’t have the heart to tell Hank he’d towed earth-moving equipment across virgin African bush.
It was late by the time they had everything locked and loaded, and they decided to spend one more night at the motel. They wanted to get going early in the morning. Five hours, a bit longer for the trailer, and they would be in Canyons. He should be elated to be getting this traveling circus moving.
He couldn’t get the way Tiffany fit right against him out of his head.