"What does that mean?" I asked, afraid the couch I was sitting on would be my temporary bed for the night. Talk about a colossal sucky day.
"It means we have to take what they have available," he grumbled, striding out of the terminal. This time it was my turn to laugh. I was relieved I wouldn't be sleeping in the airport, but it was pretty hilarious to see the normally easygoing Grant losing his cool.
We boarded the rental car company's shuttle and my laughter quickly turned into one yawn after another. The swaying motion of the shuttle bus combined with the snow falling outside lulled me back into my lethargic state. Something about watching snow dropping from the sky had always given me a warm, cozy feeling. It would have been a perfect time to curl up in bed with a good book and hot chocolate.
The shuttle driver stopped in front of what was literally the only car left on the lot. Teeny tiny would be the best way to describe it. I couldn't help barking out in laughter after finally understanding the source of Grant's aggravation. It wasn't one of those Smart Cars, but it was pretty darn close.
"Not funny," Grant declared, wheeling his suitcase through the snow toward the car that looked smaller and smaller the closer he got to it. "I've seen riding lawn mowers with more room than this thing."
I burst out laughing again. He glared at me for a moment before his frown turned to a smile. Even Grant couldn't help laughing at the irony of the situation. A frigid gust of wind blew across the parking lot, sending a shiver down my body. The soft flakes of snow swirled around, pelting my face.
"Here, can you warm up the car?" he asked, handing me the keys while he stowed the luggage in what was supposed to be the trunk.
Only when I was sitting behind the steering wheel of our micro car did the humor of its size lose its luster. We would be cramped driving five miles in this sardine can. Nine hundred plus miles was going to suck. Even with only two of us
in the car, we would be practically on top of each other. This was going to be as close to torture as I had ever come.
"I would have driven," Grant said, shaking the snow off his head as he opened the passenger door.
My eyes focused on the stray lock of hair that fell across his forehead. He had great hair for a guy. It was auburn with a lush fullness that would make most girls jealous. I would be embarrassed to admit how often I had dreamed about running my fingers through it.
I reluctantly forced myself to look away. I could NOT fall for Grant again. He had already unknowingly broken my heart once. I would be wise to remember that. Who cares if we were only thirteen years old? A broken heart was a broken heart. Besides, he aggravated the crap out of me, which meant he wasn't Mr. Right.
Oblivious to the jumbled thoughts in my head, Grant adjusted his seat, sliding it as far back as it would go before he climbed in. Even still, his knees were practically in his lap.
"I feel like I'm on a kiddie ride," he complained, adjusting the incline of the seat to try to gain a little more comfort.
"Make sure to keep your arms and legs in the vehicle at all times," I teased, plugging my phone into the charger so I could use the GPS on my phone without draining the battery. Once I selected "Home" from my favorites list, Mona (the name I gave the robotic voice on my phone), started spouting out directions.
"I figured I'd drive until we hit the next town since Ms. Personality claimed the hotels around here are all booked," I told Grant as I drove away from the airport.
"Sounds good," he said, shifting in his seat as I pulled onto the main road. I drove for less than a mile when I turned my blinker on.
"I hope a drive-thru is okay?" I asked, turning into the parking lot of a popular fast food chain.
"That's fine," he said as I pulled behind a heavy-duty truck that dwarfed our small car. The line moved fast and soon we were back on the road. Grant had the juggling act of passing me my food while trying to eat his own, but neither of us wanted to go inside the restaurant. I started to feel more human after I downed my burger and fries. I switched lanes until I was farthest to the left, which I considered my comfort lane. Like the parking lot at Enterprise, the highway was pretty much empty except for an occasional oversized semi-truck.
"This is comfy," Grant said, stowing our trash in the minuscule backseat. He shifted his legs to a suitable position, which happened to be intimately close to my right leg. I debated moving, but that would have been obvious, and possibly lead to an awkward conversation. Instead, I tried to ignore the voice in my head telling me how good his leg felt against mine.
Neither of us talked as the city lights faded away and the night swallowed our lone vehicle. I kept my eyes on the road ahead of me, afraid if I looked at Grant it would start a conversation. It's not like I didn't want to talk to him. I just felt our current driving arrangement was intimate enough without initiating a conversation in the cloak of darkness. A part of me wished he would go to sleep so I could relax a little.
"Are you okay driving?" he asked, making me jump. In all my deep thoughts of not wanting a conversation, I wasn't ready when he initiated one.
"I'm good for now. I'm hoping we'll find a decent hotel there," I said around a yawn as I pointed to a gas station billboard stating the next exit was in twenty-five miles. Despite how tired I was, I felt I could make it.
"Okay. I'd offer to drive, but I'm not sure I'd be able to fit behind that steering wheel," he said sardonically. "Maybe if there's an Enterprise in town we can look into trading this thing for something bigger in the morning."
"I'm okay driving," I said, yawning again. Once the yawns started, there was no stopping. "I drive all the time for work," I added.
"You're some kind of chef, right?" he asked, draping his arm across the back of my seat. If there was something that would wake me up, that was it.
"Um, yeah, but I run a cooking blog," I said, shifting uncomfortably. Grant acted like he didn't notice and continued to talk.
"That's cool. What's your blog called?"
I mumbled the title under my breath.
"Sorry, can you repeat that?" he asked, sounding amused.
"Cooking for Love."
He chuckled. "Still hung up on that whole
love
thing, I see," he observed.
I flushed slightly. I knew my reasons for leaving Woodfalls were common knowledge. I couldn't expect anything less from our small town. "What's wrong with wanting love?" I asked defensively as I maneuvered around a semi-truck that seemed to be having a hard time staying in its own lane. As we passed, I could see the driver was texting on his phone. What an idiot.
"There's nothing wrong with love. You've just always been a bit obsessive about it."
"Obsessive?" I asked in a slightly raised voice that bounced off the tight quarters of the vehicle. "I don't see anything wrong with wanting to find my soul mate," I argued.
His laughter boomed through the vehicle. "Did you say soul mate?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
"What's wrong with that?" I bristled.
"It's just so clic
hé
, believing there's only one perfect person out there for you. True love is a give-and-take relationship that takes years to perfect," he stated.
"Well, thank you, Dr. Phil. Are you a love therapist now?" I snapped. My faith that my perfect match was somewhere out there had been keeping me going for so long. It was the whole reason I traveled so much for my job. I have this fantasy of walking into a romantic restaurant and waiting at the bar for my table. The bartender sets down a glass of red wine and points to a tall, dark and handsome gentleman at the other end of the bar who raises his glass when I look in his direction. He walks over confidently and introduces himself. The connection is instantaneous. We have dinner together and talk all night long until we share the most passionate kiss ever as the sun rises in the horizon and we have our happily ever after. It could happen.
"Nope. I read it on the back of a cereal box," he quipped. I elbowed him in his ribs, but he deserved it. I hated that I was always the butt of his jokes.
"Hey, kidding. I learned it from watching my parents all these years. They love each other deeply, but that's because they're willing to put the work into
their relationship. You can't just expect to have some love fairy wave her magic wand and
poof
, you've met your soul mate," he said sarcastically. He removed his arm from the back of my seat and I couldn't help feeling like he was mad at me or something, which was utterly ridiculous. If anyone should be pissed it was me.
I stewed on his words, not saying anything for the next ten miles. When another billboard appeared declaring we were two miles from our gas needs (their words, not mine), I let out a small sigh of relief. I was ready to get out of the car and put some space between us. I had no idea how I was going to handle the rest of the trip when the first hour had pretty much done me in.
Grant must have felt the same since he looked relieved when our exit came into view. Merging onto the off-ramp, I followed the signs to the only hotel in the area.
"Roach motel, anyone?"
Grant said as I pulled into the parking lot that was in dire need of some repairs, but seemed to be the least of their problems. The office had an illuminated sign, but the first few letters were burned out, so all it said was "fice."
"Are we sure it hasn't been condemned?" I said with dismay. I was by no means a snob, but I did expect a certain degree of cleanliness when I stayed in a hotel. Hopefully, it had fresh sheets and towels and clean floors, and not to knock this place any more, but I would prefer it if the night manager wasn't picking his nose as we walked in the front door.
"You folks like a room?" he asked, chewing on his thumbnail that had just been in his nose. Double gag.
"Are there any other hotels in the area?" I asked hopefully as Grant snickered.
"No, ma'am. We here have the only accommodations in a twenty-mile radius," he said proudly, spitting a section of his nail off to the side.
"Charming," I replied.
"Two rooms," Grant said, stepping in before I had the chance to say anything more.
"Two? I thought you two were
together,
" he said, looking at me with a whole new level of interest.
"We are," Grant glared at him. "We'd like our rooms to be adjoining," he added.
The clerk shrugged his shoulders after eyeing me up and down one last time before giving us our total. My skin crawled, but I ignored him as I paid for both rooms. Grant tried to intervene, but I reminded him that he had paid for the car. With one last wink from Mr. Nose Picker, I grabbed our two room keys and walked out of the office. Grant stood for a moment with his fist clenched before turning around to follow me out.
"Bit of a creep, huh?" I said as I climbed back into the car to drive us to the end of the building where our rooms were located.
"Dickhead is more like it," Grant answered.
As we climbed from the car and grabbed our bags, I was almost thankful it was so dark outside. If I saw the building in the harsh light of day, I'm not sure I could have forced myself to stay.
Grant waited beside me while I slid the key into the lock and twisted the handle. The strong stench of old mildewed carpet assaulted my senses when I pushed the door open. Reaching a hand along the wall, I found the light switch and turned it on. Swallowing hard, I stepped into the room, which was far worse than I imagined. The carpet was worn with the concrete floor exposed in several areas. What there was of carpet was stained. By what, I didn't even want to think about. The walls that were once white were a dingy yellow from years of neglect and cigarette smoke discoloration. There was a bed and a small dresser with a broken leg that made it wobble when you touched it.
"I'm in hell," I mumbled, walking farther into the room. I was afraid to touch anything else and didn't know how I was going to manage sleeping here.
"Well, that's not true. If it was hell, it wouldn't be this damn cold," Grant said, walking over to my thermostat to adjust the heat. A groaning noise moved through the wall, but thankfully a blast of warm air blew through the vent. "I guess I better go check if mine is any better," he added, opening the door that adjoined our rooms. The second door was warped and didn't close completely.
"I guess it's a good thing you're the one in the room adjacent to mine," I said sarcastically as he pushed the warped door open, which creaked loudly.
"On a positive note, you can rest well knowing I can't sneak up on you," he said, making the door squeak again as he walked into his room.
I circled around again to take in the room, unsure of what I wanted to do. I was dead tired, but my day of travel had left me feeling frumpy and dirty. Standing in the middle of my disgusting room wasn't helping matters. Still holding my bag, I stripped off the comforter that looked like it hadn't been washed in a decade. The sheets looked marginally better. After giving them a quick inspection, I figured they would have to do. I placed my bag and purse on the middle of the bed and headed to the bathroom with a pair of socks and my bathroom bag in hand. I paused along the way to close the door that separated our adjoining rooms.