Chapter Three

Kayla leaned back in the passenger seat of Tony’s Jeep, kicking her feet up on the dash. Her toenails flashed bright magenta, courtesy of a pre-trip pedicure with Willa and Aislin.

Her two best girlfriends had found her plan only slightly wacko.

“I still can’t believe you’re going on a road trip with your ex.” Pretty, blonde Aislin had stared at her, blue eyes utterly dumbfounded. “I thought you were kidding.”

“Same.” Willa had given her a look like she’d flashed back at the bar. The one suggesting Kayla had a screw loose. “And you’re visiting some of his exes?”

“We dated for, like, a minute,” Kayla had reminded them, pretty sure she was making the wrong point. “We’re more best friends than exes.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re meeting up with his exes,” Aislin had said gently.

“It kinda does, actually.” Leave it to happily wedded Willa to be the voice of reason. Her expression had softened as she handed Kayla a bottle of polish that perfectly matched Kayla’s favorite sandals. “If there’s a bet on the table about why Tony can’t make relationships work, wouldn’t his exes be the best ones to settle it?”

“It still seems weird,” Aislin had insisted. “You guys used to sleep together, remember?”

Like she could forget.

But Kayla had only smiled her serene, I’m-totally-cool-with-this-whole-BFF-ex-thing smile and handed the nail tech her credit card. “It’s a learning experience,” she’d reminded them. “For both of us. I’m working on myself, too, remember?”

“I don’t know…” Leave it to Aislin to be the skeptic.

Willa had looked more hopeful. “It’s good that he has all this knowledge in his head about the fires.”

“Exactly,” Kayla said. “It’ll be helpful when I’m out there shooting.”

“And also, it’s safer,” Willa added. “I know your mom’s been worried about you driving all over the middle of nowhere taking pictures of burned-out forests.”

“How is your mom, anyway?”

Aislin’s question shot a dart of guilt through Kayla’s heart. “She’s good. Fine. Helping out with my oldest sister, Kelly. She had a baby in June. I’m thinking about visiting.”

Willa and Aislin exchanged a glance.

“What?” Kayla asked. “What’s that about?”

“Nothing.” Aislin took her place in line. “Just that you’ve been saying that a long time.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Willa had put in. “God knows I understand having boundaries with family.”

Kayla had nodded, guilt rippling off of her in waves. Maybe that’s something she’d explore as she worked through her new book.

“Want some Pringles?”

Tony’s voice from the driver’s seat jarred her back to the comfort of the Jeep. Back to the long stretch of rural highway snaking from Oregon to Idaho.

“Thanks.” As she reached out to take the canister, his fingers brushed hers. A faint fizzle of pleasure shot up her arm and did a funny little dance around her heart. That was…different.

And noteworthy, since she’d stopped having physical reactions to him after they’d agreed to just be friends. She hadn’t lusted after him, hadn’t fallen back into bed with him even once.

But something had shifted that night he stayed in her guest room. Maybe the embrace had done it, knocking them off their orbit somehow. She’d been holding out hope it would shift right back, since the last thing she needed right now was to start salivating over her best friend.

She pried the top off the chip canister and dumped a few into her palm. “How far to Twin Falls?”

“About another four hours. I’m debating whether to push through and get in late tonight or stop near Boise. We could find someplace with a pool, maybe grab dinner, pretend it’s a normal vacation.”

“That does sound nice.” Her memory flashed to a camping trip last summer, back when they were dating. He’d gone swimming in a mountain lake, emerging slowly with water droplets slicking his perfect abs. “Or we could skip the pool,” she added quickly. “I’m easy. Let me know if you want me to take a turn driving.”

“I’m good for now.” He slung an arm over the back of the seat. “I could use a break from music, though. Got any stand-up comedy on your phone?”

She shook her head. “I meant to download some audiobooks from the library, but I forgot.”

“No worries.” He rummaged in the drink holder for his sunglasses, never taking his eyes off the road.

Kayla hesitated. “If you want, I could read from that book my sister sent me.”

He glanced at her like she’d suggested they get out and lick the tires. “Tell me again why your sister thought she should send you a self-help book?”

She shrugged and fiddled with the seat belt. “I don’t know. I guess there’s stuff I could stand to work on—”

“You’re perfect just how you are,” he grumbled. “Seems like kind of a dick move to suggest you need to change anything.”

The flattery sent a wave of pleasure rippling through her, and she took a while responding. “She means well. I haven’t always been the best sister, and I know there’s stuff I could stand to fix. To be happier, you know?”

He shook his head. “Only if it’s shit you want to work on. There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.”

Warmth pooled in the center of her chest as she bit back the smile threatening to tug the edges of her mouth. “Still, it seems like a good book. I mean, I’ve only skipped around and read a few paragraphs, but I could start at the beginning.”

“I’m game. I dig it when you read out loud.” He flashed her a grin. “Could you at least read it in a funny voice? Mickey Mouse or SpongeBob or maybe Donald Trump?”

“What are you, ten?” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Forget it.”

“Aw, shit. I’m sorry.” He reached over and squeezed her knee, sending goose bumps up her arms. “I’m an asshole.”

“I never said you were an asshole.” She’d leave it to his exes to make that determination. Honestly, she didn’t mind the ribbing. His sense of humor was one of the things she dug most about him.

“Please read.” He dragged his gaze off the road, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, his smile was sufficiently sheepish. “Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two.”

“All right.” She dug it out of the space where she’d shoved it between her seat and the door.

“What’s it called again?”

“Go Get It! The Life You Want, The Love You Need, by Dr. Patience O’Toole.”

Tony scratched his chin. “You think she considered calling it The O’Toole Kit?”

“Sounds like a missed marketing opportunity.”

He steered the Jeep around a mystery lump of feathery roadkill. “Lay it on me. Commence head shrinking.”

Kayla cleared her throat. “Introduction: So you’re a screwup.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s the name of the chapter.” She held up the book and watched his brown eyes flick quickly to the page before refocusing on the road. “She’s being ironic. It’s actually all about how there’s no such thing as screwing up.”

“You’ve already read it?”

“Only a little bit of it.”

“Cool.” He eased into the opposite lane, smoothly passing a slow-moving tractor. “Let’s hear what losers we are.”

She dragged her gaze off Tony and found her place at the start of the chapter. “‘Let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—everyone screws up. Your doctor screws up. Your hairstylist screws up. Your accountant screws up.’”

“I can’t decide if this is reassuring or terrifying.”

“Let’s go with reassuring.” She drew a finger down the page, finding her spot again. “‘But maybe we need to redefine screwups. Sure, things might not always go the way we expect. We’ve all experienced failures, ranging from bad grades to burned soufflés to colossal, shameful mistakes that leave us bolting awake at night, reliving every awful moment.’”

Tony gave a low, rumbly growl from the driver’s seat, and Kayla glanced over to see him shrug apologetically. “Sorry. Getting a little too into it.”

“That’s good. You’re in touch with your emotions.”

“Or maybe I ate too many Cheetos.”

“No such thing.”

“Good point. Continue, please.”

She laughed and got back to reading. “‘What if we all took another look at those things we considered screwups? What if instead of blaming and shaming ourselves, we regarded them as the very things that give us dimension and depth? What if we found a way to see our screwups as big, beautiful, blemished blossoms in the fields of our existence?’”

“Unless your screwup involves pulling the wrong cord on your chute after jumping out of a plane,” Tony pointed out. “Then you’re pretty much a splat in the middle of that field.”

“Noted.” Kayla glanced over at him. “Is this too woo-woo for you?”

“Nah, I can deal. Want me to quit interrupting?”

“I kinda enjoy the commentary.” This really was way more fun than reading alone. She cleared her throat and kept going. “‘It’s time to reclaim your mistakes. It’s time to own them, embrace them, and ask them what they can teach you. It’s time to get curious about your own missteps to see what you can learn. Have you ever paused to think about how your parents came to conceive you?’”

She grimaced. “For the record, I don’t recommend visualizing that one.”

“Thanks.” He made a face, but there was something off in his eyes. Something she hadn’t seen there before. “Brain bleach activated,” he added, flashing her a grin that seemed real enough. “Dr. O’Toole might need to work on her powers of suggestion.”

“Note to self—ignore doctor’s orders when they involve picturing parents in the act of copulation.” She focused back on the book. “‘Whether you were a planned miracle or an oops baby, your presence here today is the result of thousands of years of biology, millions of strands of DNA, and a billion tiny twists of fate. Not a single error along the way led to your being here today. Your parents knew what they were doing, even if they didn’t know what they were doing.’”

“Uh…okay?”

She laughed and put her thumb on the page. “All right, so it’s a little out there. My sister swears it’s got some good advice.”

“If you say so.” He shifted gears, forearm flexing in a way that made Kayla shiver. Or maybe that was the air conditioner. No, it was definitely Tony. God, the man was built—muscular arms; wide, sturdy shoulders; and a chest that stretched the limits of his Nacho Daddy T-shirt. That was a thing with him, the habit of collecting T-shirts from diners around the globe. He’d gotten that one in Vegas a year ago, and it had shrunk a bit in the wash. The result was a sexy expanse of cotton pasted to his perfect abs like—

“Peanut butter,” he said.

Kayla blinked. “What?”

“That’s what I forgot to bring. Peanut butter to put on crackers. Gotta have road-trip snacks.”

“Right. I’m sure we can grab some at our next stop.” She closed the book, needing a break for a bit. She also needed to stop ogling her best friend’s abs, even if they had felt amazing pressed against her the other night.

He glanced over and winked. “Want to play a road-trip game?”

“Like twenty questions?”

“Or the alphabet game,” he said. “The one where you look at road signs to find letters of the alphabet in order?”

Kayla scanned the long stretch of highway dotted with sagebrush and junipers. Not a lot of signs in sight. “How about kiss, marry, kill?”

“What’s that?”

She wiggled her toes on the dash, enjoying the cool flutter of air conditioning. “We take turns naming three random celebrities,” she said. “Or they could be musicians or cartoon characters or whatever. You have to decide which one you’d kiss, which one you’d marry, and which one you’d kill.”

He glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like another middle school game. Proceed.”

“Um, let me think.” She rubbed her palms down her denim-clad thighs and tried to come up with something. “Okay. Marge Simpson, Judy Jetson, and Princess Fiona from Shrek.”

“Those are my choices?”

She grinned. “Those are your choices.”

Frowning at the highway, Tony considered it. “I’m not keen on killing anyone, but Judy Jetson’s gotta be pushing ninety, since that show came out in the early sixties. So I guess I’ll go with her.”

“To kill?”

His brow furrowed. “Do we really have to do that part?”

“Yep, it’s the game.”

“Okay, then yes.” He tapped the brakes as a rabbit darted out in the road, then changed its mind and scurried back. Tony swerved to avoid hitting it, expertly keeping the Jeep on the road.

“Princess Fiona seems really happy with Shrek, so I’m not going to fuck that up for them,” he continued. “Just a peck on the cheek is okay, right?”

Kayla eyed him, surprised by how seriously he seemed to be taking this. “Does this mean you’re marrying Marge Simpson?”

He shrugged and tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Homer’s kind of a dick, and she always seemed like a cool lady. Might as well get her out of that.”

“Wow.” Kayla stared at him. “So you’re seeing marriage as—what? A chance to rescue someone?”

Tony frowned. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but you implied it.” She laughed and dropped her feet to the floor. “No wonder we didn’t work out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t need anyone rescuing me,” she said. “If some sort of hero complex is the driving force behind—”

“I do not have a hero complex.” His words came out so forceful, even Tony seemed surprised. “I just don’t like seeing anyone in a lousy marriage. There’s too goddamn many of those in the world.”

He wasn’t meeting her eyes, which was probably just because he needed to watch the road. But Kayla couldn’t help feeling a dark fog hovering over this conversation.

“Fair enough,” she said mildly. “For what it’s worth, that’s very noble. Maybe not the best reason to marry someone, but not the worst, either.”

“It’s not like you gave me great choices,” he pointed out.

“Okay, you go. Give me three picks.”

His frown tipped up at the edges, and suddenly he was grinning again. “Fine. Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, and Kevin Bacon.”

“Ooh, good choices.” Kayla tucked a knee up under her. “At their current ages, or do I get to choose my favorite roles they’ve played?”

“Current ages,” Tony said definitively.

Kayla laughed. “Says the guy who killed a geriatric Judy Jetson. Okay, I’m going to go ahead and kill Kevin Bacon. I never forgave him for being the guy who cheated with Julianne Moore and broke Steve Carell’s heart.”

“Which movie was that?”

“Crazy, Stupid, Love,” she said. “A brilliant—and dare I say highly underrated—romantic comedy.”

He glanced over at her. “How come you’ve never made me watch it?”

“The fact that you just said made you watch it is exactly why,” she said. “I don’t want your machismo sullying a movie so near and dear to my heart.”

“I’m wounded,” Tony deadpanned. “For the record, I’m a sensitive guy who digs the occasional rom-com.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kayla got back to considering her options in the game. “Okay, so it comes down to Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington. Both are brilliant actors. Tom’s got a great mix between comedy and drama, where Denzel is a little more serious. But Denzel has the sex appeal thing going for him, while Tom just doesn’t curl my toes.”

Tony gave a low whistle. “Nice in-depth analysis.”

“Thanks.” She grinned. “You set the bar high with your thoughtful response.”

“Yeah, but you’re better at it than I am.”

She shrugged and grabbed her Hydro Flask to take a swig of water. “I do tend to overanalyze relationships.” Could be why she hadn’t managed to find her soul mate. “Not that it’s gotten me to the finish line.”

He frowned. “What the hell is the finish line?”

“Marriage. Babies. All the things you claim not to want but secretly might.”

He gave her a pained look and eased over to slip by a truck hauling huge bales of hay. “This bet is going to be the death of me. You’re going to spend the next couple weeks fiddling around in my brain, aren’t you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” She studied the side of his face as he steered them safely in front of the hay truck. “I just think a road trip is a perfect time for self-reflection.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Okay. So kiss, marry, kill.” She forced her brain back to the game. “I think I’m going to marry Denzel. The way he owned up to all his mistakes at the end of Flight seals the deal.”

Tony shifted his eyes off the road and looked at her. “That seems noteworthy, don’t you think?”

“How do you figure?”

“He played a raging asshole for 97 percent of that movie. But you focus on the redemption scene at the end.” He flashed her a grin. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”

She felt her forehead creasing. “Are you calling me a Pollyanna?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it. You did.”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Is it too late to play the alphabet game?”

He laughed and picked up his cup of McDonald’s iced tea. “I’m sensing a trend here. We can play whatever you want, sweetheart.”

She dropped her foot to the floor and grabbed her own cup of soda. “I spy with my little eye…”

…

Tony went to bed early.

Not to sleep—to avoid Kayla. Between all their games that reminded him of being a kid and her head-shrinking talk, he’d been worried she’d dig up stuff he wasn’t ready to deal with. Stuff he didn’t talk about with anyone, ever.

They’d checked in at the roadside motel and eaten a quick dinner nearby, then retired to separate rooms. That’s how he found himself crawling under the covers before the sun was all the way down.

Then he crawled back out because dammit, he forgot to call Grady and remind him to grab the amps out of his garage. Tony had been in charge of packing up the gear the last time their band had played Boyton Ballroom, and he’d forgotten to hand them off before he left town. See? This was how distracted he’d been by Kayla’s idea—by this ridiculous bet that might not be so ridiculous.

“Hey, man.” Grady picked up on the first ring, sounding downright cheerful.

That happened a lot since the bastard got married.

“I’m a dick. I forgot to hand off the amps,” Tony said by way of greeting.

“No big deal. We don’t have any gigs booked. Besides, I’ve still got that spare key you gave me.”

“Right. You can grab ‘em whenever you want.”

This was probably the time to hang up. It’s not like he was in the habit of chatting on the phone with his teammates about plans and feelings and shit like that.

But somehow he heard himself asking Grady, “Do you think this is a dumb idea?”

Silence. Then Grady cleared his throat. “What, you mean visiting your exes?”

“Yeah. You’re the only one who knows, by the way.”

Grady laughed. “Yeah. I figured. Heard a couple other guys talking about your big trip to see some old burn scars, but no one said a word about old flames.”

“Yeah, well…it’s no one else’s business.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” Grady said, getting back to the original question. “I’m a fan of anything that helps a teammate pull his head out of his ass.”

“Hey—”

“Which you helped me with last year when I almost messed things up with Willa,” Grady reminded him. “So yeah, I’d like to see you be happy. And maybe this is how you get there.”

Happy. That’s definitely what Grady seemed to be since Willa came into his life. Hell, maybe that should be reason enough to think that kind of thing was possible.

But Tony had seen plenty of evidence to the contrary. Enough to convince him it was a helluva lot harder than it looked.

“Where are you, anyway?” Grady asked.

“Boise,” he said. “We decided to stop instead of driving through.”

“Good call.” A pause. “Kayla there?”

Tony didn’t have to ask what he meant. “We got separate rooms,” he said. “Figured we could both use some space.”

“Probably smart.” This time, the pause lasted a good ten seconds. So long Tony thought he’d lost the connection. Then: “For what it’s worth,” Grady added slowly, “I always liked the two of you together.”

“Nah, we’re way better friends than lovers.” They were the same words he’d recited a year ago when they’d split, but they sounded weirdly hollow now. “Not like you and Willa.”

“No one’s like me and Willa.” He laughed, though Tony wasn’t sure he got the joke. “I’m not saying that because we’re the pinnacle of perfect relationships. I just mean it’s dumb to look at what someone else has going on and think that’s the thing you should be aiming for yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just talking out of my ass.”

Tony didn’t think so, but he was ready to be done with this conversation. He’d already had his head shrunk enough for one trip, and they were only a day into this.

“I should get off,” he said.

“Take care, man.”

“Same.”

He disconnected the call, feeling an odd sense of missing his buddy. His teammates. It was like this at the end of every season. Fire crews were tight, like family. Tighter than family, actually. Risking your life on a daily basis had a way of bringing people together.

Plugging the charger into his phone, he flipped off the light and lay back in the darkness. Might as well get some shut-eye. Tomorrow’s adventure included navigating some tricky backwoods roads beyond Twin Falls. Plus, they’d be meeting with an old girlfriend for lunch. A casual thing, but still. He really should rest.

Instead, he picked up the remote. The hotel had movies on demand, and he found himself scrolling through the library, typing in the letters C-R-A-Z-Y before he even knew what he was looking for.

There. The movie Kayla loved, which he’d never known about before. Crazy, Stupid, Love. How come he hadn’t watched it with her? They’d watched zillions of movies together. Even a few in that brief window when they’d been more than friends.

“I feel like this isn’t going anywhere.”

Those were her words the day she dumped his ass more than a year ago, though she wasn’t the only one to say them. Half the women who’d dumped him had said some variation of that.

“We were so hot and heavy at the start,” she’d continued, staring earnestly into his eyes. “But it’s like I can feel you pulling back. You’re putting up these walls, and I can’t figure out why, but I know this isn’t the sort of relationship I want.”

It wasn’t what Tony wanted, either. He hadn’t said that at the time. Just nodded and agreed and gave her a hug, along with the usual bullshit about staying friends. And they had stayed friends. Best friends, which went beyond what he’d done with most of the others.

Carrie. Courtney. Jessi. Jaylin. Abby. Just a few of the women who’d once shared his life and his bed, at least for a short time. They’d started to blend together into a fond, familiar stew of women he’d cared for—still cared for—and who, once upon a time, had caved to a momentary lapse in judgment and dated someone as screwed up as him.

A familiar laugh from the wall behind his head jolted him from his dumbass memories. Kayla. He’d know that laugh anywhere. She must be on the phone with one of her sisters, or maybe laughing with Willa about how handily she expected to win this bet. He couldn’t even remember the terms, honestly. He got the Emerald Whiskey if he was a bad boyfriend, and she got it if he was a plain old commitment-phobe? Something like that.

Her laugh rang out again and he knew she wasn’t laughing at him. That wasn’t her style. She was kind and supportive and loyal to a fault. Probably why she’d given the benefit of the doubt to so many douchebag men she’d dated. She was too trusting—too inclined to see the good in everyone.

He loved that about her.

Shaking his head, he hit “play” on the remote and watched the movie flicker to life. At least he’d get a happy ending from this. That was the deal with romance, right?

He settled in to watch, pretty sure he’d never get that on his own.