CHAPTER 5
Jinx woke feeling like hell. She groaned and stretched her neck, held her head. Fireball. Damn it.
“Hey,” Dallas mumbled, his voice rough in the super-quiet morning.
She’d slept on the couch with Dallas and the puppy, after pretending to drink a lot of Fireball. Well, she had drunk some. Just not as much as he’d thought. So why did she feel so… “Hot.”
“Hmm?” Things rustled as he sat up. “You’re kinda pink.” He laid a palm against her cheek. God, it was so cool.
She covered it with her hand, turned it over so the back was against her face. Ahhh. “You’re nice and cool.”
“Ah, shit! Jinx. I think you have a fever.”
Her eyes popped open. Fever?
“Fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. We shouldn’t have gone to Walmart.” His words were muffled; maybe his face was against his arm or other hand. “Those masks weren’t the right ones. God damn it. No. Oh, no.”
“Wait. Wait. No, get away. Get back.” She shoved his hand from her. “Go. Back.”
“Jesus, Jinx, I just laid here with you all night. If you caught it, so did I.”
“No. No.” She stood up so fast the blood rushed to her head and she swayed. “No. Maybe not. I need to go. I need to…go.” But where? “The guest house. I’ll go there.” To die, probably. But maybe not. Maybe she’d become a crazy-eyed freak. Damn it. “Quarantine.” Yeah, that was the word she’d been after. “We should know in a couple days, right?”
“No.” He grabbed at her arm but she shook him away, stepped back further. “We’ll ride it out together, huh? It’ll be fine.”
“What, so you can get sick and die too? Then who’ll take care of Annie?”
He looked down at the puppy, who wagged her tail at the mention of her name. “She’s so smart. Already.” Proud Papa blended with the misery on his face.
“Yeah. You’ve gotta stay to take care of her. Rescuing her would’ve been for nothing if she dies alone here instead of in that field.” Determination made her stand up straight. “Here’s the deal. I’ll grab my clothes and head out there. Can you bring me some water, and a snack here and there?” She felt pretty sick to her stomach but she might be hungry later. “Leave it on the front step. Don’t you dare set foot in there.” He seemed busy processing her requests. “Oh, a notebook and pen, and some stuff to read, please.” She paused, waiting for him to look at her. “I don’t wanta die of boredom.” Baboom, boom.
“Jinx.” He hadn’t appreciated her joke.
“What, too soon?” She gave him her best smile, which felt really forced and almost teary. But she needed to be tough for him.
“Stop.”
“Nope. I’ll head out.” She turned to the hallway.
“No, stop. Right there. Tell me something?”
“Yeah?” She had a guess what he’d ask, and he deserved to know, so she faced him.
“Why me? For your first?”
“You were the only guy who ever told me I had a tasty smile.”
“I said that right before we did it.”
Which precluded premeditation. Damn. She took a deep breath. “I picked you because you were the one I wanted.” And damn it, she tasted tears.
He closed his eyes. Gulped. Nodded. “Sorry I got so mad about it. I just would’ve…done it different. Gentler, you know? If I’d known.”
Of course he would have. She’d been an idiot to go in pretending she was experienced.
He stepped closer, tried to touch her, but she backed up. He couldn’t endanger himself more than he had. “I wish you’d been my first, too.”
Oh, God. She turned and practically ran down the hall, choking back the tears she could save for later, when she was alone.
“I’ll bring you an Easy Cheese sandwich later,” he called from the kitchen window as she made her way out to the little trailer that might become her final resting place.
* * * *
She woke with a start on a lumpy bed in a strange room. She’d heard something. What? Where was she? Fake wood paneling, faded blue curtains at the windows. A face…whoa. She jerked back again. Some lady was staring in a window at her. She literally had her hands cupped around her face against the glass, staring. And now she waved one hand.
“Um.” Jinx pulled a sheet up to her neck. As stuff clunked off the sides of the bed she realized the lumps were books and…she’d been reading before she fell asleep. And writing. A couple of folded letters were on the nightstand.
“Hi!” the lady called cheerfully. Ugh. She seemed familiar, but Jinx couldn’t place her…maybe she normally had on more makeup. Makeup. That’s it! Carly Robinson—she had a YouTube channel with a bajillion followers, where she tested beauty products.
Geez. She felt like crap, knew she was staring like a dunce at this lady she’d seen around but didn’t know. In some kind of mental fog, she tried to separate reality from delusion. She had a fever, could tell by the feel of her hot face, her dry lips, headache. Maybe a little ringing in her ears, or that could just be the otherwise silent universe, which made it possible to hear her own pulse. No, it must be a weird dream. She shut her eyes.
“Hey. Jinx? Are you okay?” Dreamlady hadn’t left. Maybe Dallas could get rid of her.
Dallas?
Her eyes opened again. Yes, she knew this room. She’d dreamed of it in darkness many times since graduation night, but now she was there in broad daylight.
“Um. Can I help you?” she said toward the window. It was shut, but like windows on most old trailer houses, the thin glass didn’t block much sound.
“I’m checking to see if you need anything. Dallas asked me to come by.”
“Where is he?”
Dreamlady/Carly studied her carefully. “He went up to check on his cattle. Nick rode up with him. He didn’t tell you?”
Jinx closed her eyes, thought back. “Maybe.” Dallas had been by several times yesterday. It seemed like she’d hardly rested at all. He might’ve even been playing music…their song. Or had she dreamed that? He had a lot to talk about; she’d mostly listened, and honestly when evening came, she’d been relieved because she could sleep. “Something about…finding a CB radio in a big rig.” He’d seen or heard those jerks in the truck with guns and he’d eavesdropped on their conversation. “He saw you. And Nick. At a fire.” Yeah, a house fire. He’d gone to check it out, and they’d been there too. But first he’d used the CB radio to call the guy on Doomsday Radio.
“Good. Yes.” Carly used a mom-voice, encouraging and kind.
Mom. She was a mom—had twins a year younger than Jinx. She’d always been at high school events. Jinx opened her eyes. “Your kids?”
Carly’s smile faltered, but with a tiny shake of her head, she pasted it back on. “They’re away at CSU but I’m sure they’ll be fine. We just can’t communicate right now, with cell service down.”
Too bad for Carly. She’d end up getting a firsthand glimpse of what this virus did to people, and then her hopes would be crushed. “Um, yeah, well, I’m alright for now. Thanks for waking me, though. I want to finish this book before my eyes are ruined.”
Carly tipped her head sideways, her high pony tail flipping along with it. “I don’t think you’ve got that virus, hon.”
How would she know? “Why?” She wished. She really, really did. Dying wasn’t really on her bucket list—well, she supposed it was on everybody’s bucket list. It was the actual bucket, right?—but she liked the idea of becoming Zombie Cowgirl even less.
“I think your eyes would be dilated by now. My neighbors had every window covered to block the light by day two. And my husband could hardly…” Her voice faltered. “Talk.”
“Oh. Did your husband die?” Had Carly watched that? Is that why Dallas sent her here, to confirm her diagnosis?
“No!” Carly straightened. “No. He’s in Denver. He was working there. He’ll be fine as soon as they come up with a cure.”
Wow. This was definitely a bright-side lady. “I’m pretty sure I’m dying.” God knew she’d been in that bathroom vomiting more times than she could count. And the headache alone sometimes made her wish it would all be over.
“Not of Screwy-Eyes Disease, or Mutant Virus, or whatever you want to call it,” Carly insisted.
“What else could it be? It’s not like I’ve been in contact with…strep or the flu, or…anything.” Or anybody.
Carly shrugged and tipped her head toward one shoulder. “For now, just get your rest and stay hydrated. The guys got an early start so they should be back by mid-afternoon. I fed the chickens and let them out to scratch around. Hopefully they don’t wreck Mrs. Miller’s garden.”
Wow. A lot had happened while she’d been out. Would she live to have any of it matter? “Um. Okay. Thank you.” She watched Carly wave and walk away.
If some of this was a dream, maybe it all was. But details came swarming in now. Dallas had told her all about what those shooters were saying while he hid in the cab of a big rig. They were escapees from the county jail. And even though he doubted most of them had been big-time criminals before, they were all murderers now.
Nick and Carly believed the sick were setting house fires on one side of town to lure the gang in because they wanted revenge for hunting and shooting them.
Dallas was relieved to have found other healthy people, and Nick was going to help him with the fence and cows. Good. She didn’t want to think of Dallas all alone after she died. He’d have Annie, but still. He’d been alone all summer. She wanted him to have people to help him, and keep him company. Maybe they’d even find some other young woman for him eventually.
She wouldn’t cry about that.
She wouldn’t. Much.
* * * *
When she woke again, the light had changed. Not long ‘til dark. A dog whined outside. Scratch that; a puppy whined. She looked over at the window where Carly Robinson had been—had she dreamed that? Dallas held Annie and they both gazed in at her like a display at the zoo.
“Hey.” She mustered as much energy as she could for a smile.
“Hey, Tasty. Feeling better yet?”
God. Of course she wasn’t going to feel better—she had a virus with a fifty-percent mortality rate and a hundred-percent your-life-is-over rate. “A little.”
He looked so worried. She hated that part the most. “I brought you a bowl of SpaghettiOs. It’s on the front steps. But you’ve gotta go get it, okay? You can’t leave it out there like you did last night.”
Shoot. She hadn’t ever gone for her supper because she’d been too busy throwing up lunch.
“Food out there will bring in the sickies,” Dallas warned. “And with an unlocked front door on a dark house, you’ll have company.” Had they come last night for her food? “I finally picked it up last night, at eight.”
“What were you doing running around after dark?” she snapped. He’d get himself killed.
“I brought my truck over here, and sat in it.”
“All night?” At his nod, she went off. “Dallas, you need to rest!” How was he even functioning? They’d barely slept the two nights before that.
“Right. Like I’m gonna go in the house and just get a solid night’s sleep, knowing you’re out here sick with who-knows-what—”
“We know what.” She sighed.
“Stop that!” He’d raised his voice, a rarity. “Look at her.” He nudged Annie with his cheek. “Life wouldn’t be so cruel as to take a second mom from her, would it?”
“God. Yes, life could be that cruel. Half of everybody is dead, and the other half are…worse.” Really, she’d been thinking about it, and dying might be better than the other outcome of this virus. She might ask Dallas to lock her up somewhere if she went that way, so people could study her and work on a cure.
“You’re not leaving me. Please…” He looked up toward the sky, pleading with God? “Don’t. Just…will you go get your dinner and eat it? I’ll hang out here while you do.”
He wasn’t going to leave until she ate. Her stomach growled at the thought of hot SpaghettiOs. She nodded, sat up. Rearranged the tank top she had on. Crap. Where were her shorts? Well, she had her panties at least, so she pulled the tank as low as it’d go, past her butt, and hurried down the hall.
When she opened the front door, his cat-call whistle almost made her pull the shirt down some more, but instead she pretended not to hear him.
On the top step, he’d left a cookie sheet with a plate-covered bowl, a small plate of something covered by a dish towel, plus a bottle of water and can of Dr. Pepper, both of which dripped condensation.
She looked down the length of house at him. “Are these actual cold drinks?” Her hand on the bottle told her yes, and so did his nod. “God. Where did you get them?”
“Carly and Nick. They’ve got two fridges and two deep freezers running. Her whole house runs on solar.” He lifted his chin. “Check out the plate.”
She lifted the flour sack dish towel. Two wedges of… “Cheese!” Cheddar, by the looks of it. “Oh my God. I love Carly and Nick.” And maybe the guy who’d brought this stuff to her, too. “Can I move in with them?”
He stared back, eyes narrowed.
“Seriously, though. Thank you for your kindness, sir.” She made prayer hands and half-bowed toward him.
“Get it inside, before the SpaghettiOs smell up the whole neighborhood.”
Once she was back in the bedroom with the tray of food and drinks, she set it on the bed, then put her hands on her hips. “I thought we agreed we weren’t making hot meals at dinner time anymore, so we wouldn’t draw the neighbors in.”
“You needed a hot meal.” He said it with such finality, such authority. “Don’t argue. Just sit down and eat, so I can get the bowl back to the house and wash it before dark.” He glanced at the western sky, where the sun had almost set.
Great. If she put up a fuss about him acting like a dictator, then she’d only make him stay outside in the danger zone longer. So she sat down and ate.
“You know them before?” she asked past a spoonful.
“I worked for Carly’s husband, Preston, remember? He’s the solar guy. And I played baseball with Cole.”
Oh yeah. She remembered going to baseball games and seeing Cole. Cute kid. But she’d spent more time ogling Dallas, even before Prom. “And Nick?” The cheddar was amazing. If this turned out to be her last supper, she couldn’t complain about the food.
Dallas shrugged. “His family ranch is just up the road a ways. I think my dad knows him from school. They rode the bus together.”
“What’s the deal with him and Carly?” She cracked open the soda can. Drank long. Yum. Cold drink. It had been a long time since she’d had anything cold.
“He’s got it bad for her, I know that. Seems like they were a thing for a long time in high school. He talked about her a lot today. Pretty much talked about only Carly.”
“She thinks her husband’s still alive.”
Dallas shook his head. “Doubtful. Preston never struck me as the tough type.”
“Too bad for Nick, then, because she’ll keep believing until she has proof he’s gone.”
“She’ll give up hope eventually,” he predicted. “A lot of the sick won’t make it through winter.”
“Great. Thanks,” she muttered.
He chewed his lip. “I didn’t say I hope all the people we know who are sick don’t make it. I just don’t expect they will.” He paced away from the window, still holding Annie, then came back. “Hey, did you ever have Mono?”
“No.” She shoveled her mouth full. The sun was almost gone, and he needed to be, too.
“Oh.” His disappointment was clear. “Because sometimes Mono comes back.” Poor guy really wanted her to have some other illness. “Survivorman says there’re probably a bunch of scientists working in bunkers to find an antibody to kill the virus. It’s only a matter of time.”
“True. The epidemic is only a week in,” she agreed, stowing the remaining cheese on her nightstand.
“Ten days,” he said, looking westward again. “Okay. Keep the drinks and take the tray back to the front step.”
Only after she’d returned to the bedroom and watched him walking through the trees back to the house did she realize— “Hey!” She opened the window and yelled. “Drop it! You can’t be touching shit I’ve touched! You’re gonna expose yourself and Annie to the virus!”
He kept walking, but yelled over his shoulder. “No, I won’t. Because you don’t have it.”
Damn him. Damn, damn. His denial was going to kill him.
Hopefully he’d had a cold drink and some cheese, too.
She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes. Thought of Dallas, his smell—she’d sniffed his cologne bottle on the bathroom counter every time she’d been in there in the other house—his touch. Those eyes, those lips.
The sound of his truck door opening and shutting right in front of the trailer.
Seriously? He was spending the night out there again?
She went back to the front door, threw it open and glared.
He waved at her, lifted a flashlight and then his handgun. Showing her just how armed and ready he was. The guy was going to make himself sick, between not sleeping and exposing himself to her germs.
And then who would be around to take care of him?
* * * *
Dallas stood at the foot of the bed where Jinx slept, his gas mask on—because he knew she’d raise hell if he didn’t wear it—trying to decide whether to tiptoe out of the room and act like he hadn’t been there.
She was naked. At least, from the waist up. The sheet blocked his view of her south forty, so he couldn’t tell about that. Part of him could stand there forever staring at her bare chest, but the rest of him knew he was a garden variety sicko because while she suffered from some mystery illness, here he was, perving on her.
Boobs.
It kept echoing through his brain. And yeah, it’d been months since he’d laid eyes on some, and that had been courtesy of the internet. Even longer since he’d touched some.
Boobs.
He had to back away. Maybe she wouldn’t wake up and know he’d been there. One of her arms was bent, the hand against the side of her head. What was that red… Around the wrist area… The other arm was against the bed and he couldn’t see the wrist.
A rash? He hadn’t heard of any rash with Screwy Eyes Virus or SEV, as Nick and Carly called it. A four- or five-inch swath of red bumps along the wrist… He stepped in for a closer look at the rest of her arm. All clear, normal skin. But…just between her armpit and her ribs…a red spot. With a faint ring around it.
Hell, yeah.
He backed out as quietly as possible and once he’d closed the front door, he vaulted over the railing, ran for the house, stripping off the gas mask and tossing it in the bed of his truck on the way past. Inside, he went straight to the book shelf and pulled off the one Mom had always referred to when anybody was sick, at least up until they’d gotten the internet and she’d fallen in love with WebMD.
In seconds, he had the pages open to “T”, where he started reading.
Minutes later, he calmed his breathing, snuck back into the trailer, carefully pulled the sheet up to Jinx’s shoulders, set Annie on the bed with Jinx, and waited. The pup scampered up to her and snuffled along her neck. Jinx groaned, turned to her side away from the pup, and stiffened when Annie whimpered.
“Annie? Wha? No.” She clutched the sheet to her, and looked around the room. “Why? Get out!”
He just shook his head. “Answer me this: Are you horny?”
“Dallas! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ha. He’d known that would rile her.
“You don’t have massively dilated, sensitive eyes.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “You clearly haven’t lost speech capability.” Now for number three. “And you don’t have a raging sex drive. All hallmark symptoms according to Survivorman.” And Carly. “Also…when did you get bit by a tick?”
She’d started to open her mouth, but snapped it shut. Then opened it again. “The second or third night I was on the mountain.” She indicated the area under her right arm. “I pulled it off, but… Oh. You think…” Careful to not expose even her sideboob, she looked at the spot.
“Tick fever.” He stepped up to the bed and opened the fat, worn book with Home Guide to Family Medicine in green lettering on the cover. “Symptoms include fever, malaise, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, and often a rash around the wrists and ankles.” He could hardly keep his voice calm, he was so happy. “Tick fever, Tasty. That’s all it is!”
And she wasn’t dying.
She pulled the sheet to the middle and poked a foot out. Yep. Red spots around the ankle. She looked at her wrists, too.
“Get your clothes on. I’m taking you back to the main house.”
“God. You’re so bossy,” she fake-complained.
She wasn’t dying! Or becoming a crazy-looking, nontalking, night-hunting lunatic.
“Chop, chop.” He clapped his hands twice. “Nick’s coming at nine with the city’s backhoe to start trenching for the fence. It’s seven now and I want you all settled in so I’m ready to work when he gets here.”
* * * *
He didn’t have any business reading it. That much he knew. He’d left the letters with Dad and WPRA written on the outside folded. But this one had his name on it. He knew Jinx had written them for if she’d died. But still.
It had his name on it.
She’d been back in the house for a day and night now and she was almost feeling normal. He’d gone out to the trailer to grab the rest of her stuff and lock the doors so it didn’t become squatting grounds for any sick folk. And there they were, folded and addressed in Jinx’s curvy chick-writing.
DALLAS.
How could he ignore his name in all caps?
Dear Dallas, (he read after unfolding it)
If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. It’s going to suck being here alone but hopefully this epidemic will end soon.
First, thanks again for rescuing me in town that night. It was very big of you to even talk to me. Considering life as we knew it ended, I think w’vee had an okay time together the past couple of days. I can’t think of anybody else I’d rather survive an apocalypse with. You’ve been the perfect combo of strong, capable, funny, and comforting. And hot. Though I’d never ever say it to your face, I’ll say it now. You’re hot, Dallas. Smokin’. It’s a pretty big crime against humanity—or women at least—that you’ve been keeping your bod hidden away in the hills every summer. If you ever feel guilty about anything, it should be that. (And now I hope you’re standing outside while reading this or your fat head will be so swollen you won’t be able to get through a door!) ; )
Second, I’m sorry for screwing everything up when we were 18. I’m an idiot for assuming you were like other guys and only wanted sex. That was dumb because, well, if you were like other guys I wouldn’t have liked you in the first place. If I’d been straight with you and given you a chance, maybe we could have been a thing. Maybe we’d have been together this whole time. My biggest regret is not having a chance to be your actual girlfriend.
If I live, I really hope I don’t come attack you and eat your face. Or any other parts.
Third, I think (and maybe this is like how so many people “find” God when they know they are dying or very ill)… I love you. Maybe I always have since you tried to give back your money from the 4-H auction to save the lamb you’d raised when we were 9. Or when I saw you give that homeless guy the key to your hotel room in Cheyenne, and you slept in your truck. Each time you saved me from something: Prom, Leanne/Jolene’s dress problem, being eaten by our fellow townspeople, I fell for you a little harder. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be the last one I see on this Earth.
Love always (or as long as this weird disease lets me—do zombie-type people feel love?),
Jinx Peterson
Damn it.
He shouldn’t have read it. How could he face her now, without her figuring out he’d gone snooping? Would she ever have said those things if she hadn’t been dying?
He just shouldn’t have read it.
* * * *
Jinx towel-dried her hair on the way to her bedroom. She finally felt mostly normal again, though she got tired fast and usually needed a long nap in the afternoon. It had been a week since she’d gotten a fever and, well, she was sick of being sick. But at least she hadn’t caught what most people had. Movement in her bedroom made her jump back and crack her elbow on the door jamb.
“Dallas!” God.
He swiped something from the nightstand and hid it behind him, then tried to be smooth about shoving it in his pocket. Or pants? “Uh. Hey.”
He’d been such a weirdo since she’d been back in the house. And he hadn’t kissed her once, even though they’d read the entire section on tick fever and it wasn’t contagious. Well, maybe she’d have to fix that. No more living with regrets for her. “What are you doing?” She walked straight up to him, tossed the damp towel to the armchair in the corner, rubbed her poor aching elbow.
He crackled—well, something paper did—when his backside hit the wall.
“What is that?” She tried reaching behind him for it.
“Ohhh, Jinx!” He laughed. “Are you grabbing my butt?”
She poked his stomach so he’d double over, then she grabbed at the back of his waistline. Eureka.
“Wait!” He snatched it back.
All she’d seen was a notebook page, folded in half with her name on it. “Why would you bring that in here while I showered and then take it away?”
He heaved out a breath. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine. I can stand.”
“Sit down,” he insisted, pointing at the bed.
“You know, I’m not that weak. Just like I could’ve walked all the way to the house Friday. You didn’t need to scoop me up and carry me like some macho superhero.”
He lifted an arm and flexed for her, turning side to side then narrowed his eyes, all serious. “You went completely white and were about to crumple to the ground. Then you’d have been all dirty and I would’ve had to sweep you off before bringing you in the house.”
“Whatever.” She had felt pretty crappy right about then. And at the time, she’d been grateful to be in his strong, warm arms. Being carried was pretty okay. Sometimes his ideas were good. So, she sat on the bed.
“Thank you.” He mock-bowed and backed away, the paper behind his back again. He was leaving?
“Dallas! I swear to God. What is up with you?”
“I guess we’re doing this now.” He looked a little pale. Nervous? Something she’d never seen in him, but he was chewing his lip. “Uh. So, I wrote this for you. Seemed like the easiest way to get it all out there. But then it felt so…high school.” He showed her the paper, folded it smaller and shoved it in his front pocket.
She finger-combed her hair, sniffed it.
“Your shampoo smells good,” he said.
Sure. Try to distract her with a compliment. “Finally got the campfire smell out of it.” Sniffing again, she thought maybe it still smelled a little smoky.
“There are worse smells,” he said. “Like…”
“Cooking broccoli,” she supplied.
“The floor of a stock truck after the cows are unloaded.”
“Gross!” She laughed. “The inside of my dad’s irrigating boots.”
“Good one. Mr. Mahoney.” The history teacher had epic BO.
“Uhhhm.” She searched for something funny.
“I read your letter!” he blurted. “The in-case-you-died one.”
Her mouth dropped open. She knew it, but had no desire to close it until the right yelling words came to her. Geez. She’d written that while feverish, had said things to him about his hot body. Things she’d never, ever say to him otherwise.
“I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.” No excuses. Only apology.
She could get on board with that, actually.
“I had a lot to say back, but I…well.” He leaned against the doorjamb, half in the room, half in the doorway, shoved his fingers in his pockets. “I have a confession.”
“Another one?”
“I faked sleep that night after sex.” Wait, what? “I didn’t want to talk, and I figured—hoped, I guess—that you’d take off if you thought I was asleep. Also, I faked, er…the final event.”
How could that even be a thing? “Why?” His final event had been pretty much the whole point of the other events leading up to it. “How? Why?” she asked again.
“I couldn’t. I mean…knowing I’d hurt you made me feel sick. But you insisted I go on. So I pretended.”
She let that sink in. He’d pretended—of course with a condom she’d have no way of knowing if he’d actually, er…finished.
“And then I knew you’d got nothing good out of the whole thing. Figured you were pretty damn disappointed. After you left I felt like an ass, but I couldn’t call. Tried a hundred times. A day went by, then another, and I couldn’t face you.”
“Wow. I guess it really was bad sex that night.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I ruined it for both of us, huh?”
“It’s in the past.” He pulled the folded paper out of his pocket, held it up then hid it away again. “To sort of sum this up… I’m so happy you’re okay.” He pushed away from the doorjamb, and sat sideways on the bed, facing her. Taking her hands in his as she turned to face him, he said, “Really happy.”
“Me too.” She supposed if she’d died she couldn’t be sad, but being dead would mean not being with Dallas.
“Because I want you to be my girlfriend. But only because you want to be. Not because I’m basically the only dude left in the world. I mean, if you want to live here and not be together, that’s okay.” He grinned. “I’ll cry tears of anguish every day, and probably quit eating forever and write terrible sad poems, but it’s okay.”
“I do. Want to be your girlfriend.” Maybe permanently.
“You’re sure? Because if you only felt that way when you thought you were dying…”
“Dallas.” She squeezed his hands. “If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to kiss you.”
“Well, I have one last confession first.”
“Good grief. Now what?”
“I saw your boobs.” What the hell? “Ogled them, basically. For probably a couple minutes, when I went out to the trailer to check on you that morning. A couple of really good minutes.” Her mouth was hanging open again, so she snapped it shut. “I had on the gas mask and probably sounded like horny Darth Vader just staring at this sleeping chick with no shirt. When I came back with the doctor book, I covered you before I woke you up so you wouldn’t know.”
“Wow. Some kind of creeper you are.” She tried to be mad at him, but he was so earnest and honest about it…so cute. She wanted to laugh. “You’ve gotta pay. You owe me.”
“Owe you?” His voice went so high!
She leveled her stare on those dark, dark eyes. “When we sleep together again, you’re getting naked first. Head to toe, before I drop a stitch of clothing.”
He half-nodded. “Guess that’s fair.”
“And it has to be light in the room. No hiding under cover of darkness.”
Was he blushing, thinking of being naked in front of her?
“And, Dallas?”
“Hmm?” Still with the high voice.
“I warned you.” She leaned into him, pressed her lips to his, slipped her tongue between his half-open lips. “Mmm. Tasty,” she murmured.
“Hey. That’s my line.” Warm and strong, his hands cupped the sides of her face.
She moved closer so she straddled him, pressed her chest to his. “You wanta see my boobs?”
“Nah. I hate those things. Yuck.” His hands slid through her hair, down her back, squeezed her butt.
She moaned, sucked in a breath. “I want you.”
“Have me.”