Chase Me If You Can(60)
“Checking now.” Wes frowns, his expression illuminated in the pale blue light of his phone screen. “Says they’ve got two left.”
I chew on my lip and stare at the red glow of Tracy’s taillights as we make our way back toward the highway. I’m about to reply with a flip comment. Another joke to hide that this thing between us is something I want—just like I’ve done for most of my life.
Maybe it’s the long stretch of darkness pressing in all around us. Maybe it’s that I just watched Wes spend hours putting himself at risk to help strangers. Maybe it’s the conversation we had in that field full of lightning.
Maybe I’m just too tired to keep pretending I don’t want this as much as I do.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and sneak a quick glance at him before I slowly ask, “You think we should leave one open if someone else needs it?”
“Would be the responsible thing to do,” Wes says, exhaustion and emotion drawing out his accent. His hand slides across the dark interior of the car and settles on my thigh in a loose hold. “If that’s what you want.”
Warmth floods my veins. I drop my hand on top of his and give him a light squeeze. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Wes squeezes back. “Neither do I.”
* * *
It’s nearly midnight by the time we all drag ourselves into the lobby of the hotel, four exhausted and bedraggled storm chasers weighed down by duffels and camera bags.
Naturally, the guy at the front desk moves like he’s trapped in glue as he checks Tracy and Matt in first. He’s going for friendly, rambling on about the pool—which closed two hours ago—despite the late hour and how visibly drained we all are.
When it’s finally mine and Wes’s turn, I give Tracy’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Don’t wait for us. Go sleep.”
She leans closer, her voice barely audible when she says, “Sharing rooms now?”
“We didn’t want to take both in case someone else needed it,” I hiss back, thankful that Wes is dealing with the chatty desk clerk and isn’t paying attention to our conversation.
“Mmmhmm.” Tracy gives me one of her infamous you-are-full-of-shit-and-we-both-know-it looks. Matt thankfully chooses that moment to clear his throat and save me from more questions. At least for tonight.
One long-winded attempt by the desk clerk to make the continental breakfast as appealing as a ten-course tasting menu in Paris later, Wes hands me a key and barely manages to stifle a yawn. “C’mon, darlin’.” He settles his hand on my hip as we shuffle toward the elevator. “Let’s go fall down.”
“Shower,” I mutter into his shoulder. Tracy’s teasing aside, I’m glad I won’t be alone tonight. Under the sweat, the familiar scent of Wes is a balm on my jagged edges. “We both really need to shower first.”
He hums his agreement, but it’s not until he pushes open the door to our room and my eyes drift to the large bed in the middle of the space that it really sinks in. We’re alone, in a hotel room, and this time it’s far from medicinal.
“There’s a twenty-four-hour diner across the street. Why don’t I grab us some takeout while you get cleaned up?” Wes sets his camera bag down gently on the floor and then drops his duffel next to it before stretching his arms above his head and yawning.
My stomach rumbles a reminder that our stop for lunch was over ten hours ago. “Grilled cheese and a giant pile of fries sounds great.”
“Yeah it does.” He flashes me a tired smile and bends to grab his wallet from his camera bag. “Go get clean. It’ll help.”
I can’t help a laugh when I step into the bathroom and glance over at the shower. I’ll have to stoop to fit. Wes is going to have to practically bend himself in half.
Shoving aside the thought that a naked, wet Wes is shortly to occupy the same space I’m standing in, I hurry through the shower, wincing and hissing as the hot water finds every last nick and scrape I’ve collected over the course of the evening. At least when I pull the bandage off my arm, the scrape isn’t nearly as bad as it originally looked.
By the time Wes is back, I’m perched on the edge of the bed in a clean pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, towel-drying my hair as best I can in the chilly air-conditioning. He frowns when I shiver, pausing with his outstretched hand only halfway within reach.
“I got you a chocolate shake too,” he says hesitantly, giving the cup in his hand a light jostle. “But if you’re cold…”
“Don’t care. Today absolutely calls for chocolate.” I push to my feet so I can take the drink from him, sucking down a gulp that makes my teeth sting. “This is amazing. You’re the best,” I say before brushing a kiss against his cheek, more touched than I want to admit that he remembered my weakness for chocolate milkshakes.
Wes’s eyes are soft and full of affection when he gazes down at me. “You are remarkably easy to please sometimes.”
I shrug. “I’m a simple girl.”
He laughs and reaches into his bag for the giant hoodie I reluctantly returned after my migraine episode. “You are one of the most complicated women I’ve ever met, Sloane.” He holds out the hoodie, satisfaction softening his expression when I take it. “And before you get in your head, I like complicated.” Leaning closer, he brushes his lips against my hair before turning back to his bag and grabbing his shower kit. “Put that on so you stop shivering.”