Free Road Rage by Jessi Gage Page B

eyes search the rumpled covers. He wiped his hand down his face again. “Too much fucking bourbon.” He grabbed some clothes out of the dresser, left the room, and pulled the door closed behind him, barring her from following.
    “That went well,” she said with a sigh.
    * * * *
    The sun wasn’t up yet, but morning twilight lit the sky with a mellow blue. Humidity rested heavy against Derek’s skin as he walked to Brick and Mortar to retrieve his truck. Today would be a scorcher.
    He gripped his Thermos in one hand and the insulated lunch bag Haley had given him for Father’s Day in the other. Amazingly, his head was clear despite the glasses of bourbon he’d sipped one after another last night, and despite a craptastic night of bad dreams and too little sleep.
    Okay, the night hadn’t been all craptastic. He’d gotten to see his dream girl again. He’d gotten to hold and kiss her and come in her hands like an overeager kid. None of it had been real, of course–except the coming; he’d noticed the tissues on the floor in the morning and marveled that he’d been able to clean himself up in his sleep. But even if his dream girl hadn’t been real, dreaming about her had saved the night for him.
    I don’t think you’re a bad person, she’d said. She believed in him, helped him resist the urge to beat himself up over upsetting Haley or drinking too much.
    Which was crazy. Literally crazy. He didn’t want to think too hard about the implications of imagining his dream girl waking up beside him this morning. His subconscious was obviously trying to deal with the car crash nightmares by overreacting with too much fantasy. Getting off in a dream about the woman was one thing, but imagining her in his bed even after his alarm had gone off, frigging talking with her–that was padded-room shit.
    Unless she wasn’t imaginary.
    Haley had seen something in his room. No, not something. Someone.
    Someone with red hair, darker than Rebecca’s. Someone she thought had been watching over him.
    A few years ago, he might have believed his little girl had made it up. But now? She was eleven going on socially-responsible seventeen. When they got serious, they talked about things like recycling and overpopulation in India and baking muffins with Deidre to take to the nursing home. She was a caring girl with a big heart and an outlook on life a few years ahead of her age group. Haley had better things to talk about than imaginary stuff.
    Maybe he had more to apologize to Haley for than yelling at Deidre.
    Shit. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering this.
    He rounded the corner of Graham. Eight dark, quiet blocks to go before he reached the pub. Two sets of traffic lights glowed green in the distance. Apartment buildings and unlit signs for closed businesses crowded the sidewalk. Electricity hummed in the wires overhead. A lone car drove by, headlights on. It had to be near eighty degrees, but he had goose bumps.
    I’m dreaming, he’d said earlier.
    Nope, she’d said. She’d smiled, and that one expression had held so much emotion, he knew he couldn’t have invented it all. Joy, excitement, insecurity, passion.
    She’d insisted he was awake one other time. His skin went from clammy to overheated as he thought about it. His room had been utterly dark. He hadn’t been able to see a thing, but his other senses had snapped to attention to make up for the deficit. The scent of honeydew melon filled his nostrils and made him lightheaded. The sound of her palm rasping the hairs of his chest and the soft wind of her breath in his ear blended in a sensual symphony. And the fire of her touch… She’d handled him with an irresistible blend of tentativeness and confidence. She’d been asking permission and insisting on his pleasure all at once. No one had ever touched and kissed him like that before. The tenderness of it had undone him.
    Could it have all been real? The possibility thrilled him and terrified him.
    He