Chase Me If You Can(21)
Face flaming, I yank my attention away from Wes. “I don’t want to win the magazine contest because of something stupid, all right? I want to beat him on my own merit so he can’t blame circumstances.”
It’s not a lie—but it also didn’t occur to me until this morning. After Wes was already in my house.
Shoving the thought aside, I continue, “I’m sick of hearing how my shots are never going to be as good as his because I’m not willing to dangle myself out of a helicopter or hike glaciers or any of the other insane shit he does.”
Not like I could even if I wanted to. Those trips don’t come cheap.
“Then you better hope your boy—”
“He is not my anything.”
“—has better luck up north because the earliest the glass will come in is Monday, and that’s not a sure thing with tomorrow being a holiday.” My brother scowls. “You do remember tomorrow is Easter, right?”
“Sure,” I lie. Holidays don’t tend to stick out much in my head these days. We make an effort for Thanksgiving and Christmas with Mom, but the rest tend to go by unnoticed.
It does mean that Wes is going to be relying on me for transportation longer than either of us thought unless he finds someone in Denver willing to work not only a Sunday, but a holiday at that.
My attention wavers back to him pacing by the road. Even with sunglasses jammed over his eyes, I can see the frustration climbing into his expression, his shoulders high and tight. He tips his head back and stands there for a long moment, motionless, as though he’s hoping to find an answer in the distant mountain peaks.
Eric sighs, his focus on the car when he says, “You going to stop by Mom’s while you’re here?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. I haven’t even been gone a week.” I don’t want to interrupt the relative peace of my chase season—Wes and his blown-out windows and puzzlingly thoughtful breakfast aside. “I’ll check on her if I have time. Have you or Sam been by?”
Eric only shakes his head. “Been busy with the garage. I called her yesterday. She said she’s fine. You don’t have to do all this shit for her, Sloane. She’s an adult.”
I love my brothers. I do. But as Eric stands there without having the decency to look the slightest bit guilty, the urge to get in my car and leave both him and Wes to solve their own problems is hard to resist.
This is the only break I ever get. Why the hell did I interrupt that for Wes? I might want to beat him fairly, but it’s not even remotely my fault he got himself in this mess.
The man in question growls out a string of curses under his breath as he comes back to where Eric and I are waiting. “I forgot tomorrow is Easter,” he says in a tight, controlled voice. “No one can do anything today. You can get it done Monday when the glass comes in?”
“If I don’t find any nasty surprises, sure,” Eric says easily.
“I’ll pay whatever it takes.”
My brother nods toward the garage behind us. “Come inside and I’ll run a quote. Just need the keys.” His eyes slide toward me and narrow. “You staying at Sloane’s?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” I answer at the same time. Wes lifts a brow at me in question, which I guess is fair with his stuff still spread across my living room. “We can find you a hotel. That couch is fine for one night but I doubt you want to stay there another two,” I explain, already wondering if it would make me a total asshole to drop him off at a car rental place—if there are even rentals available with the holiday—and head south.
“I’ve slept in far worse places.” Wes flashes another of his broad grins and heads toward the garage.
In search of a distraction, I pull out my phone to check the forecast again. There’s a text from Tracy.
You went home?? AND WHY IS WES WITH YOU?!
“Shit.” I squeeze my eyes shut with a long groan. I forgot about the radar app tracking our locations. Anyone who bothers to look for us can easily see that we’re together. And nowhere near storms.
Before anyone else catches on, I snap a quick photo of the mangled SUV and send it to Tracy. Dumbass finally ran out of luck. We’re at my brother’s garage.
My phone rings immediately.
“Are you okay?” Tracy demands, worry coating every word. “Is Wes okay? What the hell happened?” Then, more muffled, “Did you know Wes wrecked?” and Matt’s distant “What the fuck?”
“We’re fine.” I take a deep breath and quickly explain how we ended up here.
Tracy is quiet when I’ve finished, though I hear Matt’s low curse in the background. “Please tell Wes I said he’s a fucking idiot,” she finally says, worry and fear and anger all wrapped up in one. “Matt agrees.”
“Oh, I did. I’m sure I’ll tell him again.”
“Good.” She sighs. “Does that mean you’re stuck in town? Because Monday is looking really good.”
Of course it is. “I didn’t check the forecast this morning. Where?”
“Southeastern New Mexico into West Texas for Monday. Storms are going to wobble around for the next week before shifting north into Oklahoma and Kansas, possibly Nebraska. Monday’s spot—that’s what, six hours from you?”