Skygods (Hydraulic #2) (29 page)

Samuel shifted beneath me, stirring me from my sleep. My mother’s living room was entirely dark, save for a strip of moonlight escaping between the curtains and stretching across the couch. The digital clock read three forty—five hours since we’d stumbled back from the Folks Festival, and at some point, I’d drifted to sleep mid-conversation. Had he slept at all?

“Graceland. I think we should visit Memphis after the publicity tour ends and pay our respects to Elvis. It’s no Vegas chapel, but you’ve always wanted to go.”

I yawned and propped my chin on his chest. The pale light cast half his face in shadow, and the eyelashes feathering across his cheeks seemed even longer. “Sounds like a plan. Have you been there before?”

“A few years ago, when I toured with my third book. It was the epitome of sixties opulence, rather garish, touristy. You’d love it.”

“Hey!” That woke me up. His chest shook in silent laughter. The man got my excitement over kitschy tourist traps—probably because I’d ventured so little outside of Colorado and certainly never went on a family vacation as a child, unless it was courtesy of the Cabrals. When I was eleven, Alonso and Sofia had taken the three of us—Dani, me, and Samuel—on a week-long road trip to Niagara Falls and back. I bought every postcard on the stretch between Wall Drug and the Maid of the Mist boat tour, and stuck them in a cheap photo album while Samuel helped me write anecdotes on the backs. It was the only thing that kept us from killing each other during long hours in the back of the minivan. “Okay, I’d love it; you’re right.”

My cotton sundress was twisted uncomfortably around my legs and waist, so I hurriedly dragged it over my head and replaced it with Samuel’s discarded T-shirt. I burrowed back into his arms and closed my eyes, trying to find sleep again.

“Kaye?”

“Hmmm.”

“Are our expectations too high?” His tone was now all seriousness. “Are we just setting ourselves to fail?”

My eyes popped open. I belatedly realized I hadn’t done us any favors by stripping away my sundress. “Is this about sex? Or not having sex?”

“That’s part of it. I’m worried that we’ll make the same mistakes we made seven years ago.”

I smoothed a hand over the smattering of black hair on his chest. “You mean how we used sex to avoid our issues?” I smiled against his skin. “Well, no one here is having sex, so I think we’re okay.”

“But I would have slept with you in a heartbeat if you’d wanted me to.”

Ah, introspection at four in the morning. I bit my lip thoughtfully, my hand still stroking his chest. “We used to hold some pretty high standards when it came to sex outside of marriage.”

“We still do, it seems.”

“Then what gives? Why would you have had sex with me ‘in a heartbeat’?”

His arms tightened around me, tension gathering again. “I don’t know how to explain this without freaking you out.”

“Please try.” There wasn’t a lot he could say now that would freak me out.

“Signing those divorce papers didn’t change the way I feel about you, Kaye. I know it sounds terribly hypocritical since I left our marriage, and I’ve been with other women—perhaps all of that only reinforces what I’ve learned the hard way. You used to say you didn’t need a piece of paper to be married. Well, if that’s true, it goes both ways. It’s the intent
behind
the piece of paper—not the paper itself. You’re
it
for me. I promised to love you for the rest of my life, and that may be the one marriage vow I haven’t broken.”

There went my back-flipping heart again. I pressed my lips to his chest and felt the pounding of his own anxious heart. “I feel the same way you do, Samuel. Which is lucky for you, because if I didn’t, I’d be the ex-wife taking out a restraining order,” I teased.

“No freaking out?”

“No. But you said you’re still worried about making bad choices. What are you referring to?”

He sighed and rubbed my shoulder blades. “That’s what I need to figure out. Like I said, sex and marriage didn’t fix our issues before. I need to make a change, do something, but I’m not quite sure what.”

“We’ll figure it out. But, Samuel, I think we’re already making those changes. Rome wasn’t built in a day, blah blah blah.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Thanksgiving, two years ago, you told me you never wanted our marriage. Why did you say it?”

I thought back to that day—the anger, the pain, and the fear he would suck me in again. “To keep a shred of my pride. Marriage terrified the crap out of you, Samuel, but you did it because it was what I wanted. And I hope you know I didn’t just marry you for your family.”

“I know you loved me.”

He grew quiet, retreating into his head to mull—he was such a muller. He was having a tough time right now, his confidence in his choices shot to hell.

Finally, he spoke. “We should have waited. If one of us wasn’t ready to be married, it meant our relationship wasn’t ready for it. And in our case, with my mental hang-ups and your family hang-ups, neither of us was ready.”

We drifted into silence. I left him to his thoughts while I wondered how our lives might have changed if we’d waited to marry. Would we still be together today, or would the same problems rip us apart? Soon, the late hour and the strokes of Samuel’s hand along my spine lulled me to sleep.

Dum. dum dum Dum. dum dum Dum…

I tried to bury my head under my pillow, blocking out that horrible, shrill arena rock chords. But the pillow wouldn’t lift. What the heck? Not my pillow, but Samuel’s arm.

Dum. dum dum Dum. dum dum Dum…
“Whatever it is, kill it,” Samuel mumbled, shielding his eyes against the stream of light pouring between the curtains.

DUM. dum dum DUM. dum dum DUM…
“Argh! Stupid freakin’ monkeytail-humping son-of-a-biscuit phone.” I stumbled half naked from the warmth of the couch and pounced on my phone as it happily chirped its morning song for the sixth time in a row.

“What are you doing?” Samuel asked.

“Changing my ringtone.” I thumbed through the menu. “How about ‘Janie’s Got a Gun’?”

“Ah…you do know what that song’s about, right?” came his muffled reply.

Now, I loved Planet Bluegrass, don’t get me wrong. But the way Samuel stretched his arms over his thoroughly tangled mop of hair, the top half of his bronzed body twisting, the dusting of hair trailing down his abdomen and beneath his sleep pants…Well, he didn’t have to crook his finger to convince me to forsake Folks. Slits of blue followed me around the room. He offered a lazy smile, all stubbly jaw as I scurried under the blanket.

My phone started to ring again and “Janie’s Got a Gun” blared, just as Samuel found my earlobe.

“Seriously, you didn’t mute it?”

“I forgot.” Stupid happy trail. Stupid Cabrals. But it wasn’t the Cabrals—it was Molly again. I answered and attacked. “Molly, why are you calling me so ungodly early?”

“Oh, silly Kaye, it’s eleven thirty!” Ah. So it was. “Did you hear me? Wake up, we’re outside!”

“Who’s outside?” Samuel circled my belly button with his finger and I swatted him away. Man was making my brain cells wonky.

“Me, Cassady, Danita, Angel, and Betty the Campervan. Actually, we’re just outside your door. Except for Betty.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t answer your phone but we heard your ringtone.” Oh cripes, it was Mystery, Inc.

Sure enough there was a knock on the door, followed by Angel’s booming voice. “Open up,
hombre!
We know you’re in there, and we know you’re naked!” Then Danita’s, “Shut up, doofus, then why do you want him to open the door?”

“Just a minute!” I hung up on Molly and ran a frantic hand through my hair. Samuel hunted for his T-shirt and I scrambled for my pants, only to realize I’d stolen Samuel’s T-shirt last night. Samuel was in the middle of swapping sleep pants for jeans, when a fresh-faced Molly burst through the door, followed by the rest of “the gang,” clutching blankets and cameras. If I squinted, I could almost see them in orange ascots and knee highs.

“I was right!” Molly shrieked. “Pay up, be-yotches.” Hmm, Velma’d gone ghetto. She pushed past me and went straight to our window, flinging open the curtains.

“What are you doing, Molly?” Samuel cried, whipping the afghan around his waist. She tossed her purse on a chair, stepped over Samuel’s jeans, and made a beeline for my suitcase. The other three filed in. Cassady flipped on the television. Danita started my mother’s coffee pot. Angel jumped on the couch and spooned a thrashing Samuel. Yep, no boundaries whatsoever.

“You bet on us?” I shouldn’t have been shocked.

“It wasn’t my idea,” she retorted. “Angel said you’d be humping like bunnies by Christmas, and I told him it would be sooner than that. So we started a pool at Friday Lunch—”

“Flipping weiner dogs, Molly,” I hissed. “Who placed bets?” Our four so-called friends all raised their hands.

“Christmas—guilty,” Angel said.

“Right after the movie premiere,” admitted Cassady.

Dani gave her brother a fierce, meaningful look. “I said never, because after I chopped off your
verga
, you’d never have sex again.”

Molly bounced on her heels. “And I said Rocky Mountain Folks, which means I win. Oh, Santiago said ‘his birthday,’ idiot, and his new woman guessed ‘in the ocean’—I don’t think she understood the ‘pool’ concept. Jaime said you’d never stopped boinking and had some lucrative frequent flyers arrangement. And Hector didn’t play.”

“At least one of you has some decency,” Samuel muttered, his face darkening. “Now can you all leave?”

“Nah, Valdez just said it wasn’t gonna happen.” Cassady was kind of clueless to Samuel’s “Hector issues.”

“Nobody wins, not that it’s any of your business. What are you even doing here?” I asked.

“We wanted to catch up with you before you left for New York,” said Molly. Angel jumped up and poured a cup of coffee. Molly ripped away Samuel’s blanket and motioned for him to get up, not noticing his scramble to cover his black boxers with a pillow. He gave me a pleading look, but there really wasn’t much I could do to rein her in.

“Honestly, Sam, we’ve all seen you in less. Oh, speaking of Hector, guess what went down yesterday at Friday Lunch?”

Dani groaned, facing the wall. “
¡Ay Dios!
Molly, let my brother put on some clothes! Yuck.” In a show of belated politeness, Molly turned her back while Samuel awkwardly jerked on his jeans and avoided fist bumps from Angel.

“All put away? Good. Now, as I was saying, Friday Lunch. Hector’s started seeing this chic from Lyons named Tricia. You probably remember her, Samuel—she was in your class.”

“Wait, PA Tricia? The one who works at Boulder General?” I said, whipping my hair into a ponytail. The same Tricia who helped Hector drive me to the hospital after my skydiving accident? Apparently I missed a bit after being knocked senseless by the ground. I dug out my toothbrush and floss, listening to Molly’s story as I brushed my teeth in the hallway bathroom. I wished Hector was here so I could high-five him for the smooth moves on my doctor. If I was honest, I was also a teensy bit jealous. But that was ridiculously selfish, and I pushed the thought out of my head. I glanced at Samuel in the mirror and caught him staring back at me with an odd look. He quickly focused on Molly.

“So yesterday,” she continued, “Hector decided to bring Tricia to Friday Lunch. Who else should be there, but Jaime Guzman? She’s joined us lately, saying she needs to get out of the office before she cuts someone. When she saw Tricia with Hector, she pitched a fit! None of us saw that coming, but it makes sense, you know? She called him a bleeping man-whore doctor-bleeper then stormed out of Paddler’s, leaving Hector gaping like a wide-mouthed bass. It was great!” She plopped next to Cassady on the sofa and swung her legs into his lap.

I followed her back to the living room and folded our discarded blanket, straightened the throw pillows. “Wow, that’s…” Holy crap, Jaime had a thing for Hector. It was so utterly obvious now that beneath her switchblades and snarky T-shirts, she had a soft spot for the guy. He was the only person from the Latin neighborhood who continued to speak to her. She always bashed him, and Jaime tended to bash people she liked. Then there was the night she went to the movies with me and Hector, and I didn’t think she went because
I
was there…

“There’s more,” Cassady picked up. “So last night, I was at the bar, talkin’ to the sheriff, who just got back from the station after booking Hector and releasing him.” I gasped. “It seems that Hector showed up at Jaime’s place to apologize. Instead of forgiving him, she locked him in a dog kennel and had him arrested for trespassing. Hector was sitting in a cage with a handful of Lab puppies, playing tug-of-war with one of their chew toys.”

“That’s kind of creepy,” I said. I noticed Samuel was beaming like a frat boy at an undie run.

“No, that’s foreplay.” Angel tried again for a fist bump…still nothing.

The four of them spilled Lyons gossip for a good hour while Samuel and I took turns showering and getting ready for Day Two of Rocky Mountain Folks. Jennifer Ballister was currently dating so-and-so’s seventy-year-old father, and the entire family was hopping mad because the old man rewrote his will. Alan Murphy’s parents promised to buy him a house if he quit dating virtual people in Second Life and found a real girlfriend.