Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“On the house,” Jake said with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
I shook my head, remembering what they’d said about their debt. “I insist. Please.” I forced him to take my credit card and didn’t think about the name on it until it was too late. Wolfe Marian.
Fuck. Why hadn’t I taken the time to pull out more cash before coming here?
Please don’t notice. Please do not notice.
Fortunately, he only glanced at the card for a split second, then turned to the credit card machine to run it.
When he brought me the receipt to sign, he smiled. “You’re not closing out because you’re leaving, are you?”
I shook my head. “No. I thought I’d stick around for a bit. I only wanted to make it easier for you to finish up.”
He nodded as he handed me back my card and my copy of the receipt. “That’s awful thoughtful of you, Wolfe.”
Fuck.
I wondered whether this was a good or bad thing. I didn’t like the idea of lying to someone I was going to hook up with, but I’d been using the name Will for weeks now. It was what all of my new friends knew me as. “Oh, um…”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not stolen, is it?”
“What? God, no! I promise.”
The look of shock and horror on my face made him chuckle. He reached over the bar and squeezed my hand, using it to pull me closer so he could lower his voice between us. “It’s okay, cutie. You’re not the first person in here using a different name.” Then he pulled back and winked. “Will suits you. Not sure you’re feral enough for the other.”
I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or an insult, and the feeling of not knowing contributed to my unease.
But he’d called me a cutie, and that made me feel good. So did his attention.
And when he finally closed up the bar and we were finally alone, so did his slow kisses and murmured compliments.
If only I hadn’t spent the entire time comparing them to the passionate, all-consuming soul possession that I’d experienced with Trace almost two months ago.
One was nice while the other had been utterly devastating.
One was pleasurable while the other had been life-changing.
I thanked Jake sincerely for a nice time and told him I needed to go, that I wasn’t ready to move any faster than kissing for now.
Then I walked two miles back to the campground while envying the bright, endless stars in the sky who were lucky enough to shine down on Trace Bishop tonight.
8
TRACE
I watched the last of the stars fade into the deep purple of the predawn sky as I pulled into Hush, Colorado. Eleven hours of driving, and I’d had so much coffee I felt like I could pedal the rental car Fred Flinstone–style if I had to.
But there was no way I was going to show my face to Wolfe like this, even if I was lucky enough to be in the same town as he was. I needed sleep, and I needed it desperately.
Thankfully, I’d done my research with a long train of awkward—and only semi-successful—verbal requests to Siri during my drive, and discovered Hush had no hotels or short-stay rentals. There was only a single campground, which meant I needed to get a tent and sleeping bag or stay in nearby Montrose.
I’d managed to find an outdoor store off the interstate about fifteen minutes before they’d closed last night. I’d picked up a small tent, a sleeping bag with pad, and a few other camping supplies before getting back on the road.
When I pulled into the Tater Heap Campground just before sunrise, I planned to confirm Wolfe’s presence, then pitch my tent out of view and catch a few hours of sleep before approaching him.
I hadn’t thought about reserving a site ahead of time, but luckily, there were plenty available. I took a campground map from the “Late Arrivals, No Reservations” caddy on the door and selected a site close to the front entrance so I could keep an eye on vehicles coming and going.
Since I was in a rental car and already had a ball cap on, I didn’t worry about Wolfe noticing me. I pulled into the spot as quietly as I could, read the instructions for the tent from the privacy of the vehicle, then stepped out to set it up under the tree at the back of the large site. Thankfully, I’d put up many tents over the past two decades, so I had the thing ready in minutes. After tossing the essentials inside, I headed for the camp restroom. On my way back to the site, it was finally light enough to make out the shapes of the other vehicles nearby.
After all the photos I’d found online, Wolfe’s group was easy to spot. There was VotoBren’s green van. VanLifeVal’s dark gray van. A small silver Airstream camper that might have belonged to Thierry Capron. And there, between the Airstream and the green van, was a black van with California plates.