The third time the mystery redhead showed up at the bar, something had changed. Something was clearly different.
“Ace!” she boomed, shoving the door open with her hip. It careened off the wall and nearly hit her on the rebound, but if that bothered her, she gave no indication.
“Well, hey there,” I said, frowning as I tried to figure this out. She had, up until now, never addressed me by name without an edge of sarcasm tainting it. She almost seemed…friendly.
“Ready for that beer,” she informed me, nearly missing planting herself on the barstool. “But a shot, first.”
“Really?” I blinked at her, realization dawning of what I had on my hands here. She was stinking drunk. “You really think you need a shot?”
“Everyone needs tequila,” she said, her face relaxed and open and, if possible, even more beautiful without that awful, pinching tension that had been haunting her before.
“Ma’am, I really don’t think”
She cut me off by sticking out her tongue at me. “I’m not a ‘ma’am,’ for Christ’s sake.”
I blinked at her. “Please tell me you’re not a ‘sir.’” I grimaced a little and tried to rephrase. “I mean, if you are, that’s wonderful, you’re very beautiful, either way, I was just”
“No, stupid. I mean I’m too young and gorgeous to be a ‘ma’am.’ I’m at least a ‘miss.’”
I smirked at her. “Well, miss, I only called you ‘ma’am’ in the first place because I am at a disadvantage when it comes to you.”
“All guys are,” she told me gently. “It’s not personal.”
I burst out laughing, noting the slight edge of hysteria to it. “What I was trying to say was that you know my name and I don’t know yours. I wasn’t trying to add a decade or two on to your age…” I peered at her, suspicious. “You are old enough to be drinking here, aren’t you?”
She snorted. “Isn’t that something you should’ve determined the very first time I walked in here?”
“You’re right,” I said. “May I see some ID, miss?”
“You may not,” she said, indignant. “I have been drinking in here three times now. You’ve lost your chance.” She took a swig from her beer to hammer this point home. “And I still want my shot.”
“You don’t want a shot.”
“Don’t tell me what I don’t want.” She was being downright belligerent, even if she was smiling while doing it. “I will…I will give you a terrible review on Yelp. No one will ever come here again.”
“This is the only bar in town, in case you haven’t noticed,” I informed her. “People don’t have a choice. If they want to get drunk somewhere other than their couch, they have to come here. Now. If you really want that shot, you’ll show me your ID.”
I really didn’t care how old she was, as long as she wasn’t jailbait, or about to get our bar cited for serving someone underage. I’d just realized that I’d have a chance at finding out her name if I saw her driver’s license. And this woman really, really needed a name.
She gave an extra-long extended sigh and fished around in her purse before fumbling for a few seconds with what I assumed was her wallet before holding up the piece of plastic. “There. Happy?”
“Nope.” I took it from her easily even as she lodged a loud protest and examined it. “Why, pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss oh, no, I think Ms. is appropriate, now, you twenty-eight-year-old Kathryn Kelley.”
“So rude,” she said, trying to grab her ID back and missing. “You’re never supposed to ask a lady her age.”
“I didn’t ask. I found out.”
“You announced it. Loudly.”
“I did,” I agreed, unrepentant. “And you’re… Wow, are you on vacation, or is this just out of date? You’re from Albuquerque.”
“Give that back.”
I pretended I didn’t hear her. “So serious in your photo,” I said. “That’s too bad. You have such a nice smile, too.”
“You’ve never seen me smile,” she sniffed.
“Did, too. You smiled right at me the second you staggered in that door.” And I’d seen her smiling when my past conquests badmouthed me to her, but I figured I wouldn’t bring that up right now.
“Ladies don’t stagger.”
“Fine. You waltzed.”
“Sashayed.”
“Whatever you like. Whatever you want to call it.”
I returned her driver’s license to her and she chucked it back in the purse, apparently deciding the wallet was too much of a hassle to mess with.
“Tequila shot,” she said. “You’ve seen my ID. You know I’m of age. And you agreed to give me that shot.”
“Last chance for you to get out of it, right here,” I told her, reaching for the bottle anyway, because I knew she wasn’t about to take my advice. “You do not want this tequila shot. And this tequila shot does not want you.”
“I am more than old enough to know what I want and what I don’t want.” She preened. “And what does or doesn’t want me.”
“Then color me surprised,” I said, setting out a pair of shot glasses. “Most grown people don’t know what they should want, or what’s good for them.”
“You’re giving me two shots?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Not right now I’m not. I’m of the opinion that no one should have to take a tequila shot alone. So I’ll bite the bullet and take one with you.”
“Whatever you want,” she said sweetly, taking her shot glass.
“To what should we take this?” I asked her, lifting my own in the air.
She answered me by taking the shot and shrugging as she winced and bit down on the lime wedge I’d placed on the rim of the shot glass.
“To your continued good time in Rio Seco: hear, hear,” I said, downing my own shot and chasing it with a squeeze of lime into my open mouth. I’d learned a long time ago to tamp down my winces, even if tequila didn’t taste a bit better now for me than it did the first time I’d taken a shot. And wasn’t that the truth about anything painful or unpleasant? Nothing ever changed when it came to unpleasantness. We just changed our opinions of it. Got better at absorbing the bad.
“You can keep those coming all night,” she said, bringing her thumb and pointer finger to her mouth and kissing them. “Glorious.”
“All I did was pour, Kathryn,” I said. “You’ll have to thank the fine people at the tequila distillery for their hard work on the contents of this bottle.”
“Katie.”
“Pardon?”
She’d wrinkled her nose. “Katie, not Kathryn.”
“What’s wrong with Kathryn? I think Kathryn’s a beautiful name.”
“Got something against Katie?”
“Definitely not. Katie is just as beautiful. Katie Kelley. Ace Black. Pleased to meet you.”
“I know your name,” she reminded me, but shook the hand I’d held out anyway. Her grip was strong stronger than most women’s hands I’d ever shaken, and her palm was warm for it being as cold a night as it was outside.
“So, what’s got you in a tequila mood tonight, Katie?” I asked, washing our shot glasses in the sink and drying them. “Trying to keep warm tonight?”
“It’s not that cold out.”
“It’s supposed to get even colder,” I told her, checking the weather app on my phone to make sure. “Easier to stay warm in Albuquerque than it is out here in the desert.”
“I don’t feel it.”
I shook my head at her. “You didn’t even wear a jacket, did you?”
“Don’t judge me. I’m not a baby about the cold. It’s not even cold.”
“The desert’s pretty deceptive. It can get really cold at night.”
“Tequila can be my jacket.”
“Looks like you got your liquid jacket elsewhere before coming here,” I observed casually. “You run out of alcohol in your motel room?”
“Got tired of drinking there. Wanted some drinking buddies.” Which didn’t answer my question. I tried again.
“So are you in Rio Seco for business or for pleasure?” She’d let on that she was on vacation the last time I’d seen her, but I thought she might be a little more forthcoming given her current state.
“Neither.” She drummed her fingertips against the bar top. “This is a boring place.”
“It’s not,” I argued. “Rio Seco’s great.”
“You’re only defending it because you live here.”
“It grows on you,” I said. “Stick around a while and you might figure out that you like it.”
“Not much to this place.”
“Beautiful desert. Beautiful mountains.”
“A whole lot of nothing,” Katie sang almost viciously.
“I could prove you wrong, if you gave me the chance,” I said. “I could take you places that would blow your mind.”
“Are you coming on to me?” Katie lowered her voice dramatically and leaned forward, spreading her hands on the bar.
“Just extolling the virtues of my current place of residence,” I assured her. “Unless you want it to be a come-on.” Hopeful. Cautious.
“Only time will tell,” she said, her slight smile ambiguous. “So, how about another shot?”
“Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“I’m up for anything.” A cryptic raise of an eyebrow to go with a cryptic half-smile.
“Now you’re coming on to me,” I complained jokingly. “That means you’re definitely drunk.”
“I am not drunk,” she sniffed. “You’ll know when I’m drunk.”
“Are you sure?” I gave her a dubious look, and made sure she saw me giving it to her. “You barely gave me the time of day before, and now you’re being extra friendly.”
“Will extra friendly get me another shot of tequila?” She lowered her lashes at me. “I can get a lot friendlier, if it helps.”
“You should always be friendly,” I said, a little disconcerted by the way she was making me feel right now. This was really, really inappropriate. I was not having dirty thoughts about the woman whose name I’d only just learned. I wasn’t.
“That’s stupid advice,” Katie declared. “Everyone always tells women they should be friendly, but no one ever tells men to be friendly.”
“My mom taught me to be friendly. It’s my job, as a bartender, to be friendly.”
“It’s not my job to be friendly to anyone. I don’t have to smile at people if I don’t want to.”
“You don’t,” I agree. “I just think it’s a lot easier to be friendly than to be unfriendly.”
“It’s fun to be unfriendly,” she suggested.
“Really? Is that what you’ve been doing? Having fun with me these last couple of times?”
“See, that’s the thing. You and every other man on this planet”
“Oh, dear.”
“think that it’s every woman’s job to smile at you and bend over backward so you think that you can flirt and we find it welcome.”
“I assure you that I have zero expectations when it comes to you.”
“Well, I expect you to pour us another shot,” she announced. “Please, of course.”
“Please is implied,” I said, shrugging into the pour. “And on behalf of all men everywhere, I apologize.”
“You can’t speak for an entire gender.”
“I can try.” I hoisted my shot glass in the air. “Men are stupid and ridiculous and they do not deserve friendly smiles from anyone, especially women!”
“Cheers!” Brody hollered from the booth, holding up his bottle of beer.
“I suppose I can drink to that,” Katie allowed, downing her shot. I followed suit, exhaled through the tequila burn, and wondered vaguely, though it was probably against the rules, how Katie was planning on getting back to wherever she was staying tonight.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked me, studying her shot glass before tipping it back once more into her mouth, having determined that there were still a few drops floating around in the bottom. She shuddered and I cut some more limes.
“I’ve been in Rio Seco just over a year,” I said.
“See, that’s why you like it here,” she said. “Honeymoon phase still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t had a chance to be bored of it, yet.”
“You might be right,” I said. “Maybe I’ll let you know in five years.” I thought about what Jack said at the fundraiser in the park, that I was languishing. Dying of boredom. Stuck. I hadn’t believed him, then, because Rio Seco was my refuge. The place that had saved me, was saving me, mostly from myself.
“Five years? You’re seriously thinking of staying here?”
I shrugged. “I like it. I’ve made good friends here. I don’t have any reason to leave.”
“This place is a dump.” Her shoulders heaved in a hiccup, and she frowned. “Seriously. There’s nothing here but this bar.”
“The downtown’s historic,” I argued. “Gorgeous architecture.”
“All of the buildings are vacant.”
“All but this one,” I reminded her.
“The only bar in town.” A sigh.
“Lucky for me, or we might’ve never met as you passed through here, going wherever you’re going.”
She smiled and dipped a shoulder at me, coquettish. “Maybe I would’ve found you wherever you were.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Like fate would’ve seen to it that we found each other. That was suspiciously romantic. I was starting to believe I needed to tread carefully, now.
“Another shot,” she said, her tone imperious.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am so serious,” she crooned. “So, so serious. I’m so serious that I need lots of tequila to help loosen up a little. Doctor’s orders.”
“Really?”
“Probably.” She slapped her palms against the bar in a drum cadence. “Shots! Come on, I’ll get you another one.”
“Oh, this one’s on you?”
She batted her eyelashes at me. “Oh, yes.”
“Well, as long as it’s on you, and you’re not planning on riding back to the motel.”
Katie fixed me with a blank stare. “How else am I going to get back to my room?”
“We’ll get you a ride.”
“If you’re proposing that you’re going to be the ride …”
“I can be, if you’re comfortable with it.”
“Or if you’re using ‘ride’ as a euphemism…”
“I’m not. I just want you to be safe.”
“I can take care of myself, Ace. I’m not some damsel in distress.”
The way she weaved on the barstool made me wince to think of her astride her motorcycle, making her way back to the motel.
“I know you’re not a damsel in distress,” I said. “Look, I’ll make you a deal.”
A frown. “What kind of deal?”
“I won’t give you any more grief about what you might or might not be drinking here at the bar tonight.”
“You’ll serve me whatever I want? However much I want?”
“I mean, I don’t want you to get sick.”
“If I puke, I rally.”
“Or get alcohol poisoning.”
“You saw for yourself. I’m twenty-eight years old. I know my limits.” She narrowed her blue eyes. “What’s the catch, then?”
“Not a catch. Just a deal we might be making.”
“Does the deal involve your dick?”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m more of a gentleman than that, and I’m sorry you don’t understand that yet.”
Katie struck a pose that fell somewhere on the spectrum between sexy and ridiculous. “Are you saying you wouldn’t try to get with this?”
“I’m saying that I wouldn’t ply you with alcohol to do so.”
“That doesn’t stop other men.”
“I’m not like that.”
“What’s the deal, then?” she asked, sounding almost bored with all of it already.
“I don’t harangue you about the drinking, but you don’t put up a fight about a sober ride back to the motel. Is it a deal?”
“If this is just some complicated plot to fuck me…”
“It’s not.”
“… I might just let you have a chance.”
I chose to blame that particular statement on the alcohol she had consumed and kept myself from commenting on it.
“Do we have a deal?” I asked, waving the bottle of tequila at her. Maybe that move was a little underhanded, but all I really wanted to do was ensure she didn’t try and drive herself back to the motel at whatever point she deemed it necessary to return. The way she was eager to throw back shots didn’t give me a lot of faith.
“Okay, deal,” she confirmed. “Now shots.”
“No. First, we shake on it. Make the deal official. You know you can’t back out of it once we’ve shaken hands, right?”
“That door swings both ways, Ace,” she informed me, sticking her hand out. “You can’t back out either. I get as many shots and as much beer as I want.”
“That’s the deal. If you let someone drive you home.”
“Someone?” She retracted her hand. “I thought you were going to take me back.”
“If that’s what you want, I’d be more than happy to do it.”
“Deal.” She put her hand back out, and I shook it. Her hands were small, but strong, and the one she used to shake my hand gripped it so hard that the joints popped painfully.
I poured us a couple more shots, took mine, and dropped both now-empty shot glasses into the sink for washing.
“Be right back,” I said, opening another beer for her as her eyes watered as the floods of bitterness and tartness in her mouth warred between each other.
“Okay.”
“No shots while I’m gone, you hear?”
“I thought you couldn’t nag me about my drinking anymore.”
“I’m not nagging. I’m just telling you that I’m the bartender, and I pour the drinks. If you pour for yourself, you automatically forfeit.”
“You mean I lose?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“Am I going to like losing?”
“I don’t think anyone really likes losing, Katie.”
She laughed. “I mean, are you going to take me back to the motel room and spank me? Punish me for breaking the rules?”
“Be right back,” I repeated, painfully aware that my face felt flushed and it was a little hard to walk.
At the booth, Jack offered me two thumbs up. “I think you’ve won the redhead over, Ace.”
“It’s Katie,” I informed him, unable to keep it a secret that some…rather significant progress had been made.
Brody pulled an unhappy face. “Dammit.”
“What?”
“Should we redistribute the money, or save it for another bet?” Jack asked him.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded.
“We all guessed what her name would end up being,” Chuck confessed. “Even Sloan was in on it via text message.”
“Do I even want to know what the guesses were?” I asked with a sigh. This was my life, and my friends were betting on its minutiae. Though, admittedly, there was nothing pedestrian about Katie.
“None of them came close,” Brody assured me. “What are you doing over here? Go get her, tiger!”
“I’m not there’s not going to be any go-getting tonight,” I said. Hopefully. If all went according to a plan I didn’t yet have.
“Why the hell not?” Jack demanded. “You’ve been head over heels for this lady since she walked into the bar for the first time.”
“She’s drunk,” I pointed out helpfully.
“Is that why you keep giving her tequila shots?” Chuck asked, frowning at me.
“I mean that I still don’t completely understand her situation,” I said. “Why would she pretend to be so into me now when it seemed like she couldn’t stand me before?”
“Maybe she wants something out of you,” Brody said. “You giving her free shots?”
“No. But I made her promise that she wouldn’t drive herself home.”
“Do you need backup?” Jack teased.
“No. I’m doing…well, I don’t know how I’m doing. Good? Bad?”
“Why are you even over here?” Brody asked.
“God, I needed a break,” I said. “She has the filthiest mouth.”
Jack put his hand up. “Who are you, and what have you done with my friend, Ace?”
“What?”
“You love it when women have filthy mouths, when they know exactly what they want and how they want it. Why haven’t you taken Katie home? You both obviously want it.”
My brain was in shambles. “I don’t… I should get back in there.”
“He’s in love with her,” I heard Chuck say as I made my way back to the bar, and I wish I hadn’t heard it. I wish I hadn’t heard it because what if it was true? I’d never let myself be in love before. It made me feel too vulnerable, and I’d had to make sure to protect myself my entire life. There wasn’t anyone else to do it, and I tended not to trust people as a general rule, and maybe that was why I also tended not to invite women back into my bedroom a second time, and oh, good Christ, what in the hell was I doing here? Why did I just feel so good when Katie lit up as I came back around the bar, even if it was only because I’d willingly pour her a tequila shot if she asked for it? I was in big trouble. God, was I in trouble.
“So, Ace.” Katie made some serious eyes at me from across the bar. “I’m going to ask you this once and only once. My place or yours?”
I blinked at her, surprised. “Pardon?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” she purred. “I told you I was only going to ask once.”
“I’m sure I just misheard you,” I said. “Because I thought you propositioned me.”
“You really, really want to say yes.”
“I know I really want to say yes,” I agreed, propping my chin up on my fist and looking at her. “But I’m not going to.”
Her pretty face darkened. “And why the hell not?”
“You’re drunk.”
“So?” At least she wasn’t pretending she wasn’t anymore. We’d apparently moved past that stage.
“So I’m not going to be that guy, the one who takes advantage of the drunk girl.”
“You’re not taking advantage of me,” she argued. “I’m the one propositioning you.”
“And the polite thing to do is decline.”
“But that’s not what I want.”
“It’s what’s best.”
“No.” Katie was adamant, now. Adamant and belligerent. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. I’m the only one who gets to decide that.”
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up, trying to appease her. “I’m not trying to make decisions for you.”
“But you are.” She raked a hand through her red hair, exasperated. “Don’t you understand? This is what I want to do.”
“I understand perfectly.” Because I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t anywhere even close to perfect. I wasn’t proud to admit it, but there had been a time that I would’ve gleefully taken Katie up on her offer without thinking twice about it. Maybe I was just getting old or something, but I had to take into consideration just how differently she was acting tonight versus the previous two times we’d interacted. Alcohol was the contributing factor, here. I just wouldn’t be able to stomach her regret in the morning, if it came to that. And it wasn’t going to come to that.
Katie was swaying on the barstool, staring at me obstinately, head down, a little mascara smeared below one of her eyes, but she was still beautiful. I was hung up on that, how beautiful she was, how much I really did want her, but I couldn’t have her like this, not all the way there. What I would like for her was the safety and comfort of her motel room. She wasn’t in danger here at the bar, but if she was propositioning me, who she had spent several weeks antagonizing, making me believe that she despised me, I couldn’t say that I had much confidence in her decision-making skills at this point of the evening. I’d promised that I wouldn’t try to talk her out of any more alcohol as long as she accepted a ride back to the motel, but I wasn’t sure how to manipulate the situation to take care of her.
Until I did know how to manipulate the situation.
“Okay,” I said, slapping the bar. “Let’s do this.”
“What? Do what?” Katie peered at me, and I wondered if she’d already forgotten what she asked me.
“You propositioned me,” I reminded her. “Are you taking that back?”
“I’m a woman of my word.” She stood up from the barstool, wavered so precariously that I nearly jumped over the bar to steady her, and hitched her jeans up a little higher on her waist. “Where do you want to get this done? Bathroom? Alley?”
“That’s not very romantic,” I commented.
“You don’t strike me as a romantic.”
“Give me a chance. I’ll surprise you.”
“All right, Romeo. What’s your plan?”
I smiled at her, hoping it wasn’t a leer, hating myself a little. “I’d like a proper bed, if it’s all the same to you. Don’t get me wrong. Hooking up in public…well, that’s a definite kink. But seeing how this is our first time and everything, I’d like a chance to impress you.” I leaned closer. “I can do lots of things with you in a bed that I can’t do otherwise.”
“Like what?” she asked, and her smile was a leer. It made me shudder at just how much I was attracted to her. It had been a while since I felt anything close to this for anyone. If I was drunk, or a little bit worse off morally speaking, Katie really might’ve been getting laid tonight. As things stood, though, I just wanted to get her in bed and away from the bottle.
“Like take every piece of clothing off you and take my time getting to know you,” I said, keeping my voice even, casual, like I was describing a weather forecast. “Build things up nice and slow, take all the time in the world without having to worry about someone walking in on us, or someone hearing you scream.”
She swallowed visibly. “Why would I be screaming? You looking to hurt me, Ace?”
“No, baby. No, no. You’d be screaming because I’d be fucking you with my tongue.”
Her mouth formed a perfect “O,” and her cheeks grew flushed. “Quite a mouth on you.”
“You have no idea. Yet.”
“Okay,” she said quickly. “Let’s get out of here wait. I’ve got to pay my tab.”
“I got you.”
“No, no, that’s not right. Put it on… Here’s some cash. Here’s all the cash I have.”
“Just wait a second. I’ll look up your tab.”
“I don’t care.” She was still laying down bills on the bar, neither of us caring that they were going to get soggy in the rings of condensation and splashes of stray tequila wetting the surface. “I want to leave. Take me back to my motel.”
“I’ll give you… I’ll work out the bill later. Give you back your change.”
“Keep it. I don’t care. I just… God, I want…”
“Okay, we’re going,” I said, and I was an asshole for being more than half-hard right then. This was completely wrong, but I was getting her out of there before more harm than what I had allowed could befall her, and that was saying something.
“Brody, cover the bar,” I barked over in the direction of the booth, having eyes for nothing else other than Katie, not stopping to see if he heard me or was even still there, not caring about anything. I darted out from behind it I’d only just restrained myself from flinging myself across the surface in my haste to get out of there and slipped an arm around Katie’s waist.
“Kiss me,” she demanded, pursing her lips.
“Wait,” I said. “Just wait. We can wait.” Because I was going to let her down easy once I got her back to her motel room. I wasn’t going to lay a hand or tongue on her. At least, that’s what I was hoping.
“I don’t want to wait,” she complained. “The room is too far away.”
I got her outside without any incident. I knew I had to hurry, though. Her legs would be spaghetti in no time.
“Think you can ride a bike?”
“I’m going to take mine.”
“No, no. Yours is going to stay here. We can take mine, but I need to know if you think you can hang on to me while I drive my motorcycle.”
“I was practically born riding a motorcycle,” she boasted. “I can do it.”
“Because if you can’t, all I have to do is borrow my friend’s SUV.” Haley would let me take it for a spin…maybe. In the name of all things good and holy.
“I don’t want to ride in a coffin,” Katie protested. “Come on. Let’s see what you got.”
What I got was more than I bargained for. As soon as we were both astride my bike, helmets in place, Katie put her arms around me and squeezed my crotch, making me jump.
“You like that?” she shouted in my ear as I started the engine. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Save it for the motel, baby.”
“You’re not up for a little road action?”
“What I want is for you to hang on and stay still so I can get us there safely.”
“Safe is overrated. Live a little, Ace. Open this thing up.”
I revved the engine for her a little as I walked it out into the street, keeping an eye out for traffic, but there was no way I was even going to approach the speed limit with such precious cargo on board. I should’ve, in retrospect, insisted on taking Katie back in the SUV, but there was no time for that now. She was clinging to my back and I had to make it stay that way. The motel wasn’t very far, but part of me wished we were going back to my place. We could’ve easily walked and I wouldn’t be riding, focusing on my balance, terrified that I would lose the most beautiful and confusing woman I’d ever met off the back of my bike.
“Faster!” Katie hollered like it was a battle cry. “Faster, Ace!”
“Have to watch the speed limit,” I lied. Once you were away from the historic strip of buildings and park that served as downtown Rio Seco, there really wasn’t a speed limit. The roads ran flat and straight out into the desert, not winding or climbing until they reached the mountains.
It was a tense fifteen minutes on the motorcycle, maybe the most nervous I’d ever been operating one, even worse from the very first time I learned to do it, but we reached the motel parking lot without incident minus Katie whooping and screaming every few minutes. She was like a different person, really, and I wondered if she was telling the truth, when she was trying to cajole me out of tequila shots at the bar. She had been awfully uptight and angry the first few times I’d met her, even at the park, outside of the bar atmosphere. If it made her happy, maybe someone really should prescribe her tequila to get her to take a break from herself for a while.
“Which room is yours?” I asked as I flipped down the kickstand and grabbed Katie before she took a slow tumble to the concrete.
“One of these,” she said, helpfully sweeping her hand across the doors before us. “You going to give me a kiss, now, Ace? Or are you still going to deny me?”
“I’m kind of into delayed gratification,” I said, another lie. I was the exact opposite, in fact.
“Oh, like edging.” Katie nodded sagely.
“I have no idea what that — did you say ‘edging,’ as in lawn care?”
“No, ‘edging’ like delaying your orgasm.” She smiled, struggling with her helmet. I helped her unbuckle it, then held it for her. She seemed to be doing all she could, holding herself up. “The more you delay it, the sweeter it is, in the end. I’ll try anything with you.”
I swallowed hard. “Just tell me which room is yours so we can get there.”
“Are you going to take me right here in this parking lot?” She lifted her chin, provocative, and nearly tripped over her own two feet, off-balance. “You think anyone would look out their window and see us?”
“Probably the night manager in the office,” I said. “I’m not sure there’s anyone else here right now but us…and him.”
“Up to giving him a show?”
“You’re the one I’m planning on giving a show,” I said. “But we need to get in the room, first. Remember what I said about taking my time, about my tongue”
“That one. It’s that one.” She pointed definitively to a room or close to one of them, anyway and I took her at her word, helping her navigate the parking blocks and the lip of the sidewalk.
“What about a key?” I asked her. “Please tell me you have a key.” Though I was not above asking the night manager for help. He’d seen it all, I was sure, though probably not Ace Black refusing to sleep with a woman that he had strange and sincere feelings for. That would be something new.
“Pocket,” Katie said, smacking her thigh and stumbling around. Maybe I should’ve left her in her helmet so it could protect her if she did tumble to the ground. I brought her close and tried not to wince as she licked a long stripe along my cheek, which was apparently my reward for successfully locating the room key in those skin-tight jeans. God, I had to stay strong. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I was going to have to find a way.
I got the room open and the light turned on and was moving to shut the door behind us when Katie gave a single gag and puked down the front of herself.
“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” I breathed. “It’s going to be okay, Katie. Everything is fine.”
“Fuck,” she groaned, and puked again before I could half-yank and half-carry her to the bathroom.
“You’re okay. Do what you have to do. This is just fine. I promise.”
She tried to say something, but it came out as another gush of vomit, this time, thankfully, into the toilet.
“Get all of that nasty tequila out of you, go on,” I encouraged her. I ran cool water over a washcloth and filled a hotel-issued glass with cold water, pondering whether she would be up to brushing her teeth. Maybe the front desk would have little bottles of mouthwash. That would be even easier than brushing her teeth.
I reached over her and flushed the toilet before mopping her face with the washcloth.
“You doing okay?” I asked, rinsing the cloth again. “Want to try a little bit of water?”
She flinched and then puked again. I wished I could’ve said I was surprised at the sheer volume of liquid that came out of her, but I’d been there before. I’d seen it before, too. Part of the perks of working as a bartender now, and as a cop back in the day. I’d probably seen just as much as the night manager of this motel, and probably even more.
“I think we should take a rain check on what we came here to do, don’t you?” I asked innocently, but Katie was too far gone to answer, rocking back on her heels for a second, her eyes squeezed shut.
“There’s one good thing about all of this,” I said, mopping Katie’s face again with the damp washcloth.
She groaned, and I pretended that she’d said “what?”
“You’re not going to remember a single moment of tonight,” I said, smiling grimly. “At least, I hope you won’t. You seem like you take a lot of pride in yourself that’s not an insult, that’s a compliment. It’s always good to meet people who take pride in themselves. You’d be surprised to learn just how many people these days have self-esteem issues. It’s disheartening, it really is. Think you can drink some water?”
I didn’t wait for a response on that one, either. I tipped the glass against her lips and celebrated the fact of actually getting some liquid in her mouth, but then backed away quickly as she spurted some more vomit. It was less, now, even as she continued to gag, and I knew she was on the other side of things.
“Now’s the time to think about getting you cleaned up,” I said. “And there isn’t going to be a good way of aw, shit. You threw up in your hair. It’s fine. I’ll fix it.”
Really, she had thrown up on everything, but that was almost acceptable compared to the alternative. I really and truly hadn’t brought her back here to have sex with her, and it was like some kind of divine intervention that she had started getting sick when she did. I was fresh out of ideas on how to avoid getting intimate with her; though I had to admit that this whole situation was a little intimate, me playing nursemaid with Katie in the bathroom. I’d held back girls’ hair before when they puked, but something about this interaction felt a lot more intimate than the times I’d experienced something similar before.
“You’re not going to like this,” I told her, surveying the wreckage that were her clothes and hair. “And I’m not going to like it, either, because I don’t like vomit and there is vomit everywhere. And I don’t want to take advantage of you, and this kind of seems like taking advantage of you.”
But her clothes were destroyed, and I seriously doubted she would think I’d been doing her any favors if she woke up in the morning with all of it dried and crusted to every surface.
“Can you put your arms up for me?” I asked her gently. “I’ll get you out of this messy shirt, if so.”
She flailed a little, which told me she was either trying to comply or get away from me, so I took a deep breath and went for it, managing to smear even more puke in her red hair.
“Halfway there,” I said, flushing a little to discover she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples pebbled in the cold of the bathroom, and I lunged over the tub to start heating up the water. “You’re going to stand for me, now, right? So we can get these jeans off and get you into the shower so we can wash that hair?”
Katie responded by reclining on the floor, just missing plopping down in the throw-up shirt I’d removed from her. I unlaced her boots and tugged them off, popping her socks inside each shoe. Her toenails were painted gold, and the color made me smile for some reason.
“That’s a pretty pedicure,” I said. “I’m going to get those jeans from you, now, if you don’t mind.” It was a struggle since they were a skinny cut. Then, another struggle. Her panties could stay on for the time being, but they’d have to come off in the shower. Should I just slip them down now and be done with it, while she was in the perfect position to do so? Or should I grapple with them when they were sopping wet from the shower? I made a quick decision and even quicker work of it, trying to look at it from as professional a standpoint as I could manage.
When was the last time I had a fully nude woman sprawled out in front of me with no intention of making love to her? I couldn’t think of a time, and I was glad. The novelty of it made this whole thing a little easier.
“Shower time, before that vomit dries in your hair,” I told her, hauling her up and over the lip of the tub. Katie didn’t so much as wince as the warm water sprayed over her, and her eyes stayed shut as if they’d been glued. I knelt beside the tub, trying to keep her in an upright position so I didn’t inadvertently waterboard her, and squeezed some shampoo on her head, working it into a lather and picking out the clumps of vomit in her hair.
“That’s better, right?” I asked her, not expecting or getting a response. “You’re going to feel so much better in the morning.” I already knew it wasn’t going to be feasible getting any liquids or medicine in her, let alone helping with the foul taste she’d probably wake up with. As long as she didn’t ruin her gorgeous hair with crusty upchuck, I believed she would be happy enough.
When I was finally satisfied that Katie was as clean as she was going to get, I turned the water off and swaddled her in towels to try and preserve the warmth from the water. I did my best to dry her off before lifting her from the tub and carrying her to bed.
“I’ll just tuck you in right here, and then I’ll be out of your hair,” I told her. “You can sleep this off and forget about everything.”
She looked so peaceful, the covers around her, a towel protecting one of the pillows on the bed from her sopping hair. Then I remembered that it was creepy to watch people sleep, and busied myself with cleaning up the rest of the hotel room. I cleaned the puke near the door with handfuls of tissues, then washed Katie’s shirt and jeans in the sink with the bar of motel-issued soap. Everything went down the drain smoothly enough, though I considered informing the night manager that a little drain de-clogger might be in order for maintenance the next day.
I checked on Katie throughout my cleaning, making sure she stayed on her side, that she kept sleeping. Just in case, I brought the trash can from the bathroom to her bedside, positioning a box of tissues and the glass of water beside her on a table.
Besides the mess she’d made coming in to the room, the place seemed pretty tidy. I was generally messy in hotels, stuck in a kind of limbo between visiting and not feeling at home. I rarely unpacked my suitcase or utilized any of the drawers or closet, but Katie’s backpack was empty on the luggage rack in the corner of the room. I gingerly slid one of the drawers open to find a meager collection of unmentionables along with a laptop. What did she do for a living? Was she a writer? Would I find the answer, along with more about her, if I powered it on, tried to see if there was a password?
I shook my head and eased the drawer shut. She didn’t deserve to have me in here snooping on her life. I knew her name was Katie. I knew I cared for her. And that was all that was necessary right now.
“My work here is done,” I said. “It’ll all just seem like a bad dream for you in the morning, Katie. I’ll be going, now.”
She whimpered in her sleep, and the resolve I’d been so proud of crumbled. Katie just looked so small and fragile and pale in the bed, even against the white sheets, that I started inventing all manners of reasons to stick around for the night. I was tired, after all. It was already past closing time at the bar, and I didn’t want to face anyone and tell them that I’d spent the night on vomit duty instead of exorcising the demon of Katie Kelley from my system. I wanted to be here in case she got sick again, or needed something.
I wanted to keep her safe.
I turned off the lights, then stepped out of my jeans they were damp from the cleaning, after all. I slipped beneath the covers, next to Katie, cradling her body against mine.
“Poor baby,” I murmured against her damp hair. “You’re going to feel like absolute shit in the morning.”
At least it wasn’t going to be me.
I drifted to sleep listening to the sound of her deep breathing, feeling better than I had in a long time, warm beside her.