Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) (16 page)

She takes another swig from her bottle then puts it down on the small side table. She opens the magazine and flips through the pages. It doesn’t take long to find the book excerpt.

Edge of Zen
by Road Church.

Blair studies his byline. Despite what she’d said a few days ago about never wanting to read anything from him, she’s curious. An excitement hums through her, the excitement she always feels when she makes a new discovery about him. Her thirst for Road is unquenchable, the answer to the riddle of him always just out of reach.

She starts to read and discovers it’s a book excerpt about his time in India, right after he left her. It describes him trying to find his way in a foreign culture.
Didn’t know I was a pilgrim until I turned toward the dawn . . .

Blair sits in the chair and reads non-stop for the next twenty minutes. She ignores her beer, ignores the people around her. The excerpt is ten pages long with an author bio and picture of him at the bottom of the last page. He looks meditative in the photo, his hair longer than it is now and pulled back into a shaggy ponytail. There’s some kind of Asian temple behind him. She stares at it for a long time.

When she’s finished, Blair shuts the magazine and takes a deep, cleansing breath, lets it out. She closes her eyes, and her head spins with amazement.

Holy shit. Road can write.

BLAIR STARTLES AT
the metallic sound of a key sliding into her front door. Her eyes flash to the time on her computer screen. It’s almost noon.

Road didn’t come back from the party last night. She drove the Honda home alone because he said he’d catch a ride later, but he never showed.

Not that I care.

Quickly, she exits the browser where she was looking at Road’s blog. She was up most of the night reading
Edge of Zen
, which she downloaded onto her Kindle as soon as she came home. It’s a bestseller on Amazon with hundreds of rave reviews, and after reading it, she understands why. It’s a great book and hard to put down. His writing style is clean and eloquent, with just the right amount of self-deprecating humor. Spare, like his speech, not a lot of window dressing, but the people and places he described are as fresh and vivid on the page as if they were standing right in front of you. His laser focus is clearly turned on full-blast when he writes.

The first thing she did this morning was Google everything about him she could find. She’d never allowed herself to look him up on the web in all this time. Not even once. Her willpower was ironclad, so she had no idea of everything he’s been up to. It was quite a shock to discover how many items appeared when she Googled Road Church.

She found his blog right away, and it’s far more polished than what she’d imagined when Tori mentioned it to her. It’s way beyond some simple blog, but a huge website geared toward travelers and ex-patriots. There are tons of articles and photos about various places with links to information. There’s even a store attached. Quite an enterprise. And when she finds the ‘About Us,’ it says—

Nathan ‘Road’ Church: Founder, Managing Editor, and Contributor.

There were other people listed as well, and it dawns on Blair that Road has employees, that he’s a business owner just like herself. She stared at that page for a full five minutes, barely breathing.

Unbelievable.

The front door opens, and Blair pretends to be working on the computer as Road strolls over, his smoky scent wafting around her. She’s sitting on one of the tall kitchen chairs.

“Hey, princess.” He’s carrying a couple of Tupperware containers.

Blair glances up at him. “Hey.” She goes back to her computer, but can’t resist watching his backside as he takes the containers over to the fridge. That perfect ass. He’s wearing the same jeans from last night, but has a different shirt on today. A dark blue one that advertises Brody’s garage.

“What’s in those?” she asks.

He shoves both plastic containers onto the top shelf and Blair cringes. The top shelf is for bread items only.

“Leftovers from my mom’s. She insisted.”

“That was nice. Do you think you could move them to the bottom shelf?”

“Why?”

“That’s where leftovers go.”

He takes the containers from the top, squeezes them onto the bottom shelf, and closes the refrigerator.

She cringes again because he didn’t line them up right, but figures she’ll fix it later. “Thank you.”

Road turns back toward her. The front of his T-shirt is tucked in and she can see his brown leather belt with the brass buckle, along with the bulge of what’s below it.

She quickly looks away.

“You make it back okay last night?” he asks.

“Yes, obviously.”

He stands there, leaning against the counter, watching her as she pretends to work on her computer. He doesn’t say anything, and Blair finally looks up at him. His hair is damp and there’s blond stubble on his face. She wonders if he’s hungover, but then immediately rejects the notion. For all the partying that goes on at his mom’s house, Road’s never been much of a drinker. Except for that one night they were together, a few beers is the most she’s ever seen him down.

His sea-green gaze takes her in. He definitely doesn’t look hungover. The whites of his eyes are clear and bright, his skin unmarred. He looks relaxed standing there, too relaxed. And that’s when it hits her.

Road must have gotten laid last night.

Welcome home!

She hopes to God it wasn’t Marla.
Please, don’t let it be Marla
. But then, who
would
be acceptable? Who could Road sleep with where it wouldn’t bother her?

No one.

Blair grits her teeth and turns back to her computer. She hates this, hates this obsession. Wanting someone she can never have. The sick irony of being married to him.
Married!

Road is still watching her. His laser focus hums like an electric power line. “Are you pissed about something?”

“No.”

“What have you been up to all morning?”

“Nothing.”

“You look seriously pissed, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He chuckles. “Now I
know
you’re pissed. Is it because I didn’t come back last night?”

“I don’t care what you do.” She moves her mouse around the computer screen aimlessly, pretending to be busy. “I don’t want you here in the first place.”

Reggae music blares from his phone and Road pulls it out of his front pocket but doesn’t answer it, just turns the music off.

“What are you doing today? Do you have plans?” he asks.

She doesn’t reply right away and wonders why he’s asking. “Not really.”

He gets a mischievous smile. “What do you say we take Isadora for a spin?”

Blair looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Let’s go for a drive.”

“And who’s going to drive?”

“Me.”

“You’re going to drive Isadora?”

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head in amazement. “How stupid do you think I am? If I give you her keys, you’ll never give them back.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course not.”

Road chuckles. “I see. What can I do to earn your trust?”

“I don’t know. Sign her title over to me.”

There’s a flash of white as Road laughs with what sounds like approval. “Damn. You’ve grown a pair, that’s for sure.” His laughter quiets down. “Not going to happen, though. What else can I do?”

She throws him her haughtiest look. “Nothing.”

He mulls this over and after a long moment appears to come to a decision. “How about this—what if I
promise
to give the keys back to you?”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I want to take my car out for a drive. Check out Seattle. I haven’t been back in over a year.”

Blair picks up her coffee and swirls the ice around with her straw.

“Look, I know how much time and money you’ve put into Isadora,” he says. “Brody told me all about it last night at the party, so let me experience her.”

Her eyes roam over him. She wonders who got to experience him last night, but decides not to go there. “You’ve already ‘experienced her.’ You drove her that day back from Tori’s house.”

“That was nothing. Just that one time doesn’t count.”

They’re still eyeing each other and Road’s expression is so earnest that, against her better judgment, she softens a little.

“Come on,” he says, lowering his voice, coaxing her. “It’s sunny outside. We’ll put the top down. It’ll be fun.”

Blair is tempted, and a part of her wants to go with Road, but then she comes to her senses. “No. You’ll never give the keys back.” The problem is she knows him, knows him better than he could ever imagine, and she knows if he gets those keys, it’s all over. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

“I’m not.” His eyebrows go up and he looks genuinely surprised by her accusation. “Let me convince you. What can I offer you in exchange?”

Your body?
It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it almost makes her smile. She wonders what he’d say if she put that on the table. Imagines his astonished face.
He’d say no anyway.

“How about my wallet? It’s got my driver’s license, credit cards, everything. You can keep it in your purse while I drive.”

Blair imagines them spending the whole day together. The sweet torture of being with Road. And the selfish part of her, the part that’s always hungry for him, the part that’s wanted him her whole life is telling her to say yes, because this is it. This is all she’s going to get, and it’s better than nothing.

“All right,” she says, before the sensible part of her kicks in again. “Let’s go for a drive, but I want your wallet
and
your phone before I give you the keys.”

I hope I haven’t made a stupid mistake.
They’re driving toward downtown Seattle. She’s worried because Road looks too happy. Too relaxed, cruising with the top down and the radio blasting.

His wallet and phone are both safely inside her purse and if he tries to keep Isadora’s keys, she’s not giving either of them back.

“So, where should we head to first, princess?” he asks, raising his voice above the music and the wind noise.

“That depends. What did you miss the most?”

He’s wearing black Ray-Bans, and his hands manage to look both strong and graceful on the steering wheel. He grins. “Everything.”

The radio is playing Pearl Jam’s “Alive”, and Blair thinks about Road’s book. All the people he’s met and the places he’s traveled. He’s become worldly these past five years, and she feels a peculiar envy.

“Why did you come back to Seattle?” she asks, curious. “Why now?”

Road’s eyes are steady in front of him as he drives. “It was just time to come home, is all. Take a breather.”

She thinks about how he’s like the character Larry from
The Razor’s Edge
. A traveler who’s come home wiser than he left. She almost tells him this, but then realizes he doesn’t know she’s been reading his book and his blog. Perversely, she doesn’t want him to know, either.

I’m not Isabel, though.
The woman who loved Larry, but wouldn’t travel with him when he asked her, who refused to give up her cushy life.
If Road had asked me, I would have gone with him anywhere.