The Redhead Plays Her Hand by Alice Clayton

Author:Alice Clayton [Clayton, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2013-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

Later that night, I was home waiting for Jack. He was actually driving himself back from the desert for a change. He liked the drive. He said he liked the peacefulness he derived from speeding through the desert at night. But he was more than two hours late, and as I cleaned the sink for the tenth time, I considered calling him again. Then I saw his headlights pull into the driveway.

We both had new cars, my little convertible I traded in on a large Escalade that I felt safer in when driving. And Jack now had his own convertible safely tucked away in a private garage in the Valley. He now drove a much less conspicuous but still tricked-out Tahoe when he was out and about without Bryan.

I smoothed my shirt as I walked to the front door, nervous energy charging through me. I hadn’t seen him since the wrap party for my show, and I was anxious to see him, hold him.

I opened the door, and there he was. Hair starting to grow out a bit and looking messy, even though it couldn’t be more than a half inch long. Circles, huge bruised-looking circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted, and even the way he was walking seemed tired, plodding across the pavement with his duffel bag and guitar. I was glad to see he still had it with him. He seemed to have lost some interest in playing over the last few months. His smile, though, that still belonged to me, and it greeted me twenty feet from our front door. He was home.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, walking past me inside the door, dropping his belongings and catching me into a close embrace. I wrapped my arms around him, sighing as I breathed in his scent, accented by sun and sage from the desert he’d been living in. His body was lean and hard against my own. He had lost some weight while he was shooting, and he seemed to be all angles and limbs, hugging me tight.

We held each other in front of the front door, kissing and connecting, holding and remembering. I pulled back to look at him, resting my forehead against his as he leaned down.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too, love.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m too tired to know.” He laughed ruefully, looking down the hall toward our bedroom.

“How about you take a nice, hot shower, and I’ll heat something up for you. How does that sound?”

“Can you bring it to me in that red silky thing you wear for me sometimes?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

“I thought you were tired?” I pushed back against his chest as he nuzzled into my hair.

“I’m never too tired for that, Crazy.” He pulled me close again and lifted me a few inches off the ground, swinging my legs around in a circle.

“Okay, you go shower. I’ll make you something to eat, then I’ll play dress up for you. How does that sound?” I teased, removing myself from his arms and starting for the kitchen.

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