Page 41 of Thanks for Coming Along
"Come on, let's get out of here, Ro!" She grabbed his hand before Beau could continue. "Bye, Beau! It's been a real pleasure!" She saluted her new confidante.
"Enjoy your roll in the hay!" He shouted back. Her eyes widened in shock as she beelined for the door and pushed it with more force than necessary with the palms of her hands. Ronan's arm pushed the top of the door behind her.
Roll in the hay?He did not just say that; she refused to believe it. Ronan started roaring with laughter once they were in the afternoon sun, cars whizzing by on the highway.
"So, why did that cashier tell you to enjoy some intercourse?" Ronan asked, still laughing slightly. Eden ignored the question and dug into the brown paper bag of snacks. She handed him a bottle of water, the beef jerky, and the sour candy.
"I got you some essentials. I know you like sour candy, so I got you a pack," she rumbled, attempting to change the subject.
"Okay, keep your secrets," he responded with a smile that could melt glaciers, a dimple forming on his cheek. "Thank you for the candy. I can't believe you noticed that I ate sour candy," he said as he accepted the pouch, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
"No biggie, anything for my favorite coworker," Eden replied before thinking, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed inwardly. His expression seemed to falter momentarily as if her comment had suddenly made the entire universe aware of their strictly platonic relationship.
"Yeah, coworkers," he muttered and took a swig of the water bottle. He started packing the food and water into his backpack. Shit, she had messed up.
Eden scrambled for something to say, trying to recover from what she'd just blurted out. She could tell him she liked him, but what would that even mean? Did she want to date him? Sleep with him? Both? Preferably both, in either order. She wasn't greedy.
Reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Once this documentary was over, Ronan would return to his overseas assignments, and Eden would continue her relentless touring after her new album was released. It wasn't like they had a future together. Their lives were on different trajectories. She shoved down the disappointment that was creeping up inside. Whatever this was, it was transient, an impermanent situation in the vast expanse of their separate lives.
"Let's hit the road, cowgirl," he said, flicking the rim of her cowgirl hat. She nodded, her eyes fixed on him as he smoothly mounted the motorcycle. His long, muscled leg swung over the leather seat, and she watched, entranced, as he settled into his spot and pulled his helmet securely over his head. Every move he made was graceful, and she couldn't help but admire him.
Taking that as her signal, she positioned herself behind him. She felt the softness of his t-shirt underneath her fingers, balling the fabric in her hands and resting them on his solid torso.
The motorcycle came to life with a powerful hum, and she gently tapped his chest to signal that she was ready to go. For a brief moment, he held her hand against his hard chest. The touch made her heart skip a beat, and butterflies swarmed her stomach. She squeezed him a fraction tighter, feeling a contented sigh escape her lips. Then, all too soon, his hand released hers, and they were gliding onto the highway, leaving her with a lingering warmth she couldn't shake.
She looked up and noticed ominous dark clouds looming in the sky. The encroaching darkness had grown so intense that it cast shadows from the Joshua trees over the sand.
It was still late afternoon, not late enough for that kind of darkness. The scent of dusty earth and the pavement was tinged with the promise of rain. The clouds appeared to be darkening, and a slight, humid breeze licked her skin.
She felt a sudden drop of rain on her bare thigh, the drip spattering on her skin. Then, a steady pitter-patter as the first rain droplets began to fall. They landed softly on her bare shoulders and legs, and she grinned at the sky, reveling in the cool drops on her skin. She released Ronan's waist and spread her arms widely.
Tilting her head towards the sky, she let the rain pelt her face and opened her arms. Ronan tapped her wet leg in warning, and the stampede string of her cowgirl hat hung to the front of her neck. Her cowgirl hat fell off her head and dangled behind her back. The pouring rain started to soak her hair and completely saturated her clothes. She put her arms around his waist again, her fingers feeling the drenched fabric of his shirt to his firm torso, her shirt sticking to the back of his jacket.
On the right side of the road, a red vacancy light flashed through the curtain of rain, and Ronan pulled his bike into the motel parking lot. As they approached the parking lot entrance, she saw a sign with the words "Clown Paradise Motel" with a genuinely blood-curdling cartoon clown. Did Pennywise own this place?
Ronan brought the bike to a slow crawl and then turned off the engine. Eden hopped off the bike and grabbed Ronan's backpack. Ronan pulled up the visor of his helmet, revealing his narrowed eyes.
"That was dangerous, Eden. You can't let go of my waist. Especially in the rain, it's not safe." His tone was concerned as the rain hit the top of Ronan's helmet, and the thrum of rain made a rhythmic beat over the plastic material. "Also, where is your helmet?"
Eden tried to look up at him, but the rain was battering her eyes, so she pulled the cowgirl hat on her head to block the rain. She squinted her eyes at him, and Ronan pulled his helmet off. She watched as the rain instantly soaked his hair. Frustration etched across his face as he used his free hand to push the dark brown wet strands back off his forehead. The movement exposed his lowered eyebrows and the smooth expanse of his forehead, and it was devastating for her to look at. He was so stunning that she was enraptured by his face, momentarily forgetting that he had asked her a question. He stared at her expectantly.
"Oh," she paused and swallowed quickly. "I forgot to put it back on. I'm sorry," Eden mumbled softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. She turned her eyes to the hot pink helmet hanging off the back of the bike, where she had clipped the chin strap over one of the attached cases.
Ronan shook his head, lightly linked his arm with hers, and walked toward the motel office. As they got closer, she noticed the colorful polka dots painted on the outside of the motel and a collage of oversized, garishly painted clown faces on the exterior of the building.
A shiver ran through her body as the clown's eyes seemed to follow her movements. Ronan pulled open the door, and a bell jingled. Walking into the lobby, they noticed a dizzying amount of clown memorabilia. She spun in a circle and looked at the glass cases housing an assortment of clown porcelain dolls, vintage clown costumes, and rows of painted faces frozen in perpetual amusement. Every inch of the room was covered in something clown-related.
"Judas Priest," she whispered in horrified pleasure. She unzipped Ronan's backpack and grabbed his camera to capture the terrifying collection, zooming in on one particularly horrid clown with bright red hair and scary black eyes. She panned the camera around the room and saw Ronan talking to the woman at the front desk. She walked over to the window and focused the camera on the rain hammering the desert sand. It was veiled in a hazy mist, and dark clouds crowded the sky. A warm hand touched her chilled shoulder, and she jumped slightly at the unexpected touch.
"Just me," a smooth voice whispered behind her. "They only have one room available. I hope that is okay." Famous last words…one bed, one hothotman. She hoped the motel had housekeeping because she would most likely spontaneously combust. They would have to scrape her remains off all the clown decor. What a headache.
26
Eden
Well, she hadn't imploded yet. But the thing about spontaneous human combustion was it wasspontaneousso that it could happen at any minute. And now that she was forced to share a room with Ronan, she was sure it was only a matter of time. She should get her affairs in order and get that life insurance policy she had been eyeing before it was too late. She never even got the chance to learn how to knit. Well, there was always the afterlife. She was hopeful that Hell had yarn.
Ronan grabbed their bags from his motorcycle while she showered. All their clothes were soaked from the rain, so they had purchased officially licensed "Clown Paradise Motel" shirts featuring a frightening clown lounging in a bed. She had to admit that the clown in the picture appeared ridiculously comfortable.
