“You too,” I manage, finding my voice as I step forward.
Okay, I’m going to hug him. Just a friendly, nice-to-meet-you, hug. I only mean to do that loose hug, the one where your bodies don’t touch, but you somehow embrace, but that doesn’t happen. Connor pulls me in, slamming my body into his, nearly knocking all the air out of my lungs—I’ve never felt so dainty in a man’s arms before.
When he releases me, we stand awkwardly for a moment, him in his tight black T-shirt and jeans, me in my frumpy, wrinkled, white cotton top and blue jeans, damp with sweat.
“Are you ready to get out of here?”
His mouth curves slightly. “Have been since day one.”
We climb in the car, and as I start it I explain apologetically, “Air conditioning went out on me halfway here. It’s going to be a hot ride.”
He chuckles lightly, “Haven’t had air conditioning in eight years. I think I’ll survive.”
I cringe. Tent City prison makes inmates work and sleep outside. Connor is probably used to this insane heat.
“Your compressor might just need a charge,” he continues. “I can check it out, and we can stop at an auto parts store if I can figure out what you need.”
“That’s right.” I nod as I put the car in reverse. “Blake said you were some kind of badass mechanic.”
Connor smiles faintly and shrugs. “Only thing I was ever good at. I think he got all the brains out of our gene pool.” Moments pass with only the sound of the wind coming in through the windows. I’ve never been great with silence. I have some undiscovered disorder where I’m compelled to fill it.
“I got us rooms at a hotel not too far from here. It’s a long drive back to Colorado, and it’s already late so I figured it would be best to stay the night and head out first thing tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he agrees.
“You wanna settle in and maybe shower? We can go to dinner afterward if you want.” I have no idea how dinner would go with him or what we would talk about, but I don’t want to be rude. Of course, maybe he wants to be alone. Maybe he doesn’t want an awkward dinner with me either. “No pressure,” I add.
“Sounds good, Demi. I appreciate all of this. Blake said you were too good to be true.”
My heart sinks with his words. Blake always put me up on a pedestal. “What is family for?” I finally manage.
The ride to the hotel is filled with awkward small talk; the weather, sports, and Connor asks me about my job. When we check in, I hand Connor the key to his room that is located right beside mine. We agree to meet up in an hour for dinner, then part ways to go to our separate rooms. I call my mother and let her know I’m okay and that no, Blake’s jailhouse cousin has not chopped me up and left me on the side of the road in little pieces.
“I know, Mom. I gotta go.”
“Text me every hour. I want to know you’re safe.”
“Mom. Chill. Seriously,” I grumble. “I’ll call you when I get home. We’re headed out first thing tomorrow. Love you. Bye,” I hang up quickly before she has time to argue.
I toss my phone on the bed and stand, but when my cell rings again, I groan. I know it’s my over-bearing mother calling me back, so I flip it open and snap, “Mom! I can’t stay on the phone with you all night.”
“Well hello to you, too, sunshine,” my cousin and best friend Wendy snarks at me from the other end.
“Oh, hey,” I laugh embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”
“I take it Gladys has been calling?”
“You know it,” I gripe as I plop back down on the bed.