I don’t know if I should remind him of the offer and pretend I never said what I did, but he makes my life easier by walking toward the front door and picking his keys up on the way. I silently pad after him. When he opens the passenger door first, he lets out an aggravated sigh. I peek from behind his shoulder and find the dried-out mud still covering… well, pretty much everything.
An instant wave of shame descends upon my righteous shoulders, and I become small.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He shrugs his shoulder in dismissal. Funny thing—he hasn’t said a word since I came out of that room.
Sheriff moves toward the back seat and opens the door, gesturing for me to get inside. I want to say ‘hell, no,’ but looks like my options are limited. Silently, I climb inside—without his help this time. He shuts the door and walks around the cruiser toward the driver’s side. I pull the hem of the T-shirt closer to my knees, hoping my naked behind won’t be wiping whatever germs the real criminals left on this seat.
“Where to?” he asks gruffly.
“Alicia’s,” I reply with the least emotion possible.
The drive to her place is quiet. He hasn’t said a word, nor have I. When he parks in front of the house, I instantly pull the handle only to find the door won’t budge.Great. I forgot all the extra features the back seat of a cop car comes with—the lack of freedom being number one.
Sheriff comes around the car and opens the door for me. I climb out carefully, trying not to flash the whole street like I did to him yesterday.
“Thank you again,” I say quietly but sincerely as I walk toward the door.
“Josie,” he calls out, and I pause, turning my head halfway just so I can indicate that I’m ready to listen but not ready to talk. “For all it’s worth, you’re still important. Even if you’re passing through.”
I give him a sad smile and walk up the stairs. I might be important, but I’m not importantto him.
Before I can even knock, the door flies open, and Alicia comes out.
“Hey,” her voice is small.
“I’m sorry for—”
But she doesn’t let me even start before she blurts, “Kenneth sent me a message yesterday that you’d be staying at his place because we were having wild sex, and you felt bad about coming in.” Her cheeks turn pink, and I instantly feel like a total jerk. “I’m sorry, Josie! I didn’t think you’d be coming back at that time. We started and lost track of time.” She’s almost crying at this point, thinking she did something horrible.
I turn around to find Sheriff watching us, and I send him a death glare. He accepts it with one of his own and climbs back into the car. Once he’s out of sight, I face Alicia.
“Look, if you’re going to apologize about having hot sex with your man, save it.” I throw my hand in the air, preventing her from speaking. “Seriously, Alicia. Don’t even think about that.”
“But you have no clothes and nothing really. He said everything was in the car, and I checked, you didn’t leave anything here. What happened? You don’t like it here?” Then her cheeks redden even more. “Stupid question considering how yesterday went, and it was like the first day you’re here. I’m sor—”
“Alicia!” I stop her with a laugh, and she smiles back.
“Okay.” She gestures for me to come inside. “Let’s save you a walk of shame. My neighbors are vicious. And very, very old. They have zero life besides talking crap about everyone around them.”
“Tell me about it,” I snort, and her eyes turn curious.
When I’m inside, she gives me the new shorts she bought to cover my naked ass and has me sit in the kitchen. Two minutes later, I have a steaming cup of a fancy latte. Ten minutes later—a full-blown breakfast with eggs, bacon, and potatoes. It screams ‘cozy-home-you-don’t-have’ right in my face, and I start sniffling.
“Joz,” Alicia calls, “are you okay?”
And to my utter astonishment, I start crying. What does Alicia put in her food, damn it?
“Oh, Joz,” she says as she stands up from her chair to comfort me. Lowering to her knees, she wraps her arms around me and stays like that until my tear ducts dry out like the Sahara.
When I sniffle and pull away, she lets me go. She takes my face into her hands and wipes my tears and snot away with her fingers, not looking even slightly disgusted.
“I’m sorry about that,” I mumble, embarrassed.
“Be quiet, woman.” She laughs. “No more sorry’s, please.”
“Agreed,” I say with a smile, wiping my face with my sweaty palms, making even more of a mess.
