What was she going to do? How could she go back to her life?
Thoughts and images swarmed in her head like pissy bees getting ready to attack. She pressed her fingers to her temples and wondered if she’d die by brain explosion.
The door opened. Wolfe thrust two plastic bags at her and a bottle of Poland Spring. “Here. First drink this. You look like you’re doing the freak-out thing.”
She swallowed a few sips of water. Then looked up at him for his next instructions. He gave a gentle smile and knelt down beside the car. Not speaking, he sifted through the tangled chestnut curls of her hair, and worked out each of the pins. Then he rubbed her scalp, pulling his fingers through the strands until they slid freely of knots. Gen studied his familiar features while he took care of her. Strong square jaw. Facial hair clinging to his upper lip and chin in a sexy goatee. Stinging blue eyes that burned like a laser, cutting through people’s bullshit and social veneers with no apology. His head was usually shaved clean, but he’d been growing it in, so dark curls softened his face just a bit. The serpent ink crept up his neck as if choking him. She was always fascinated by the tattoo. Traced in simple black, the impressive snake started low on his chest, worked its way up his arms and one shoulder, and ended right under his ear. Almost as if the creature was consistently whispering something to him. He was a gym rat, so the muscles under his clothes were hard and unforgiving, from his eight-pack stomach to the meaty biceps. Her gaze traveled to his wrists, where the matching leather bands were revealed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves. She’d never spotted him without them. He’d made the accessories famous by his underwear ads. Many young men followed his example until the wristbands became the hottest new trend.
Funny, from the moment they met, they’d been fated to be friends. Their heart-to-heart conversation set the stage for the future, with none of that crappy sexual tension or flirting. Just a good buddy of the opposite sex who meant the world to her. Kate was her best friend feminine equal, and Wolfe her male.
He reached behind her and pulled open the row of pearl-encrusted buttons down the back. He pointed to the bags. “Put these clothes on.”
She took out the denim shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops. “I look terrible in orange.”
His lip quirked. “Not much choice on the bargain table. The rest were extra large.”
“Sorry. Being a runaway bride makes me a bit bitchy.” Gen transferred to the backseat and tugged off the dress. Sweet, pure air filled her lungs once the tight fabric slid off, and she quickly divested her garters and stockings, scrambling into the comfy clothes and pulling off the price tags. She dug out a small package of hair bands from the bag and quickly scooped the strands into a short ponytail. Then got out.
Wolfe nodded. “Good. Got us some snacks for the road, so dig in when you want.”
Gen peered into the other plastic bag at the contents of a true road trip. Candy bars, Doritos, and a few Slim Jims. “Are those Sno Balls? I didn’t think they made them anymore.”
“Yeah, me neither. I got lucky.”
“Where are we going?”
“Gonna stay at Sawyer’s cabin on the lake for a few days. Just until things die down and you get your head together.”
Panic reared back up and nipped at her nerves. “I have to call my family.”
“Already done. I texted Alexa and Kate. Those were the two you wanted to contact, right?”
She slid her arms around her chest and squeezed, rocking back on her heels. “Yes. What did you tell them?”
“That you were sorry you ran out but you couldn’t marry David. That you needed to get yourself together and would be in touch. That you were okay and not to contact you for a bit.”
“What about the reception? Where are people going to go? What about the press?”
His voice held a rich command that vibrated with intensity. “Alexa and Kate are a power team together. They’ll handle it. Right now, you need to let me take care of things.”
Relief loosened her muscles. Yes. For a little while, Wolfe would take care of things. She’d retreat, make some decisions, and clean up the mess she made. But not now. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Let’s go.”
They got back into the car and drove. The Mercedes gobbled up the miles as they worked their way from Verily, in upstate New York, hit the thruway, and headed north. The music was loud, the wind whipped at her hair, and the scenery whizzed by in a comforting blur. She nibbled at a Hershey’s chocolate bar while Wolfe munched on chips and sipped his soda.
Gen closed her eyes and pretended she was off for a weekend getaway. Over the past year, each time she tried to see Wolfe, David gave her a hard time. The pressure and guilt became too much. Her fiancé reminded her how little time they spent together with their crazy work schedules, and her little forays with Wolfe were causing a break in their relationship.
Gen considered herself a strong woman. Gutsy. Opinionated. Yet when David turned his charm and dedication into getting his point across, it was like the South at Gettysburg all over again. Defeat. So, she’d begun making excuses. She hated lying, but David rewarded her by being extra sweet and considerate, telling her over and over how good they were together if only she tried hard. She forgot how nice it was not to worry about saying something stupid, or not being witty or sexy enough. With Wolfe, there was only a comfortable silence and no need to fill the void with intelligent conversation.
The trees grew thicker and the landscape more rural as they turned off the exit and headed toward Saratoga Springs. They passed through the quaint town with its shops, neat landscaping, and sidewalks, reminding her of Verily, and kept going. Nine Inch Nails boomed from the stereo in direct contradiction to the woody hush as they veered off several side roads. The gravel spun beneath the tires, and wildly colored blooms dragged past the window, sticking out from a variety of brush and trees. Wolfe made a hard right and followed a path up a steep hill, winding in circles higher and higher until he cut the engine.