Dance of Desire (1001 Dark Nights) by Rice Christopher

Author:Rice, Christopher [Rice, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: romance, cowboy, Texas, Christopher Rice, 1001 Dark Nights
Publisher: Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
Published: 2016-02-22T16:00:00+00:00

8

Amber wakes from a dream of kissing Caleb to find her mouth full of bedsheets.

Her bedroom is dark save for the alarm clock, which tells her it’s only three thirty in the morning.

This was the best she could do? Two hours of fevered dreaming that left her feeling jittery and wired, as if she hadn’t slept at all and didn’t really need to?

A text or call from either Caleb or her mother would have lit up her cell phone’s display. Even though it’s a dark patch on her nightstand, she grabs for it anyway, unlocks it just to be sure.

Nothing.

Well, if I can’t sleep!

She dials her mother’s home number.

How many voicemails has she left for the woman already?

Shouldn’t she start the clock over now that she’s had somewhat of a night’s sleep, however terrible? Fifteen unreturned voicemails the night before, which would make this current call the first official call of—

“For the love of the baby Jesus, Amber, it’s three thirty! Go to bed! You can yell at me in the morning!”

“It is morning!”

“Sunup, then!”

“How dare you rat me out to—”

Click.

Enraged, Amber throws the phone across the room.

For a terrifying instant, she’s afraid it’s going to smash into the opposite wall and break into several pieces. Instead, it lands on the foot of her bed with a weak thump, a reminder of why she never played softball.

All hopes of sleep dashed and the source of her current troubles unwilling to remain on the phone with her for longer than ten seconds, Amber sees only one option.

A brief, frenzied shower and two Diet Cokes later, she grabs the weekend bag she packed the night before and heads to her Sentra. She’s got the driver’s side door half open when she shuts it suddenly, heads back inside the house, grabs four Diet Cokes out of the fridge, gets back in her Sentra and speeds off in the direction of the freeway.

If she manages to drive straight through to Chapel Springs, she might catch her mother before her first cup of coffee. She speeds up, hoping to get there sooner. Too bad she didn’t bring a pair of cymbals with her. Maybe she can stop and pick one up along the way.

An hour south of Dallas, her eyelids start to get heavy.

Are you kidding me? Now? Now I’m tired?

It’s still dark out, which is why she doesn’t notice the approaching thunderstorm until lightning forks on the horizon. Lightning. Her least favorite thing next to menstrual cramps and snakes.

Also, I’m tired. Really tried. And getting more tired. And even though this fact seems dramatically unfair, saying so over and over again to herself isn’t making her any less tired.

A few minutes later, sheeting rain washes the windshield. The taillights in front of her become vague, bleeding suggestions. She’s got another two and a half hours to Chapel Springs. Maybe three, if this weather keeps up.

If I were home in bed, I’d be wide awake and staring at the ceiling. But now I’m getting sleepy. So very, very sleepy.

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