7. Minnie

CHAPTER 7

Minnie

“ H i, it’s me, don’t hang up.” Lennon usually doesn’t answer calls from numbers she doesn’t have saved in her cell phone, and I’m using Clay’s landline; it’s even corded. I’d be in the shock of my life had it been rotary style. We had one growing up. That didn’t mean it stayed connected. Unless Lennie paid the bill, we’d have to rely on communicating when and where we’d be. On the rare occurrences we were able to use the phone, we had to be quiet. We were always fearful our parents would do something like hawk the thing for a few bucks.

“Minnie?” It’s the wee hours of the morning at home, and I can tell I’ve woken her up. My stomach sinks to my feet. I hate that I’ve interrupted her sleep, the only place where I know her mind shuts down and her worries disappear for the night.

“Yep, letting you know I kind of sort of ran into the side of a mountain. Cindy may or may not be totaled, and I’m staying at the owner’s place for the night.” I go on to tell her the whole story. Lennon stays quiet as I verbally dump my drama on her. She knows me well enough to know I’ve got to get it out, or I’ll keep it inside and sleep will never come my way.

“Jesus, Minnie, are you okay?” she asks once I take my first full breath.

“I am. Shaken up and really freaking annoyed at the turn of events.”

“I’ll get online now and book a plane ticket.” I can hear her moving around, probably getting out of bed when I’m about to climb into bed.

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do that.” She’s done so much for me and has problems of her own currently swirling around every single place in her life.

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” I can hear the worry in her tone. Whether it’s over how she’s going to swing the cost or concern for me, she’ll never admit.

“You won’t find a flight. Colorado is about to get six feet of snow, and by the time it’s over, I’ll already have a game plan in place. Now, I want you to write this name and address down. Also, save this number and feel free to call whenever, except for the next few hours or so.” I’m prepared for what she’s going to say next when I tell her Clay’s first and last name.

“Clementine Sinclair.” Our parents didn’t give either of us middle names. Apparently, that would have been asking entirely too much.

“I’m good. Everything is going to be fine. He’s been the perfect gentleman, and his dog has taken a liking to me. Promise. I’ll be okay,” I state the truth. Clay Garcia has literally done more for me than both of our parents combined.

“I’m stating this for the record: I don’t like this, and I’m going to be checking on you religiously. I should have gone with you,” Lennon drones. The worry wart in her is about to be at an all-time high.

“Duly noted. Can I tell you something? Maybe it will sound cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, maybe it won’t.”

“I’m all ears. Please talk to me for the entirety until the snowstorm blows over.” I hold back telling her the lines could go down soon. Maybe I’ll wait to share that little nugget of information until right before we get off the phone.

“I’ve never believed in love at first sight, not even lust, but the minute Clay walked up to me, I felt…” I stumble for the right words to capture the feeling I’m trying to explain. “I felt alive. He gave me his full attention, wiped my tears away, which in itself sent a spark like no other through my body. He made sure I’m safe, and most of all, I feel protected. Kind of like when we were little, and you made sure everything was alright.” Butterflies swirl around in my stomach, and a smile is plastered clear across my face.

“Alright, can’t say I’ve ever experienced this before, but I can understand romance and the falling part.” Lennie falls in love with fictional characters on a daily basis. She reads more than anyone I’ve ever met, probably a way to escape the reality of the hell she’s been through in her past relationship.

“Thank you.” I let out a yawn, unable to hold back how tired I am any longer.

“You’re welcome. Keep in touch. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Oh, and Clay mentioned we may lose the telephone lines, but he’s got a backup generator. I’m sure I can text you from my laptop once he’s got Cindy secure for the time being. Between the insurance on the van and my phone, it’s going to cost a whack. I need to see about canceling my reservations in Jackson Hole, too.” The likelihood of me getting a full refund is low, even with insurance. It’s Christmas, and canceling last minute means they probably can’t find someone else to take over my stay.

“I’m going to need to eat a pile of antacids. Get some sleep, and I’ll try not to worry too much.” We say our goodbyes. I’m well aware that I’m about to climb into Clay’s bed. I’ll be wrapped up in his scent and his belongings. The one thing I can’t process is where he’ll be sleeping. Am I kicking him out of his bed? He’s already done so much for me that I can’t fathom having Clay give up his bedroom, too.

I straighten the phone back to its normal resting place. While I talked to my sister, the pacing began, and with it came the phone being moved every which way. I guess I’m lucky it didn’t fall to the ground or the cord didn’t get pulled out of the wall.

I’m struggling to figure out what to do next when I get a whiff of myself. I didn’t get a chance to shower tonight, not with Deputy Ding-Dong moving me away from a site that had bathrooms. Add in the wreck and my adrenaline skyrocketing only to just now start plummeting, and well, I’m a bit of a freaking mess. I grab my bag and start making my way to one of the two doors. One will surely lead to a bathroom.

Door number one isn’t the correct way to a hot shower; it leads to Clay’s closet. Boy, am I enraptured. Not because of the look of it; the area could use some cleaning and organizing. There are clothes hanging, some haphazardly, shirts mixed with jeans, blazers that are on metal hangers. I simply could not live in this kind of disarray, but I’d hazard a guess this is normal for single men. I take a deep breath. Leather, cedar, and undercurrents of bonfire on a cold winter night. A girl could get lost in Clay’s scent alone. As much as I want to linger, I don’t. It’s time to move this along instead of doing what I’d really like to. You know, like snatching a shirt and wearing it instead of the pajamas I packed. Those intrusive thoughts really are something else. I back away, close the door, and head to the next one.

A twist of my hand, and the door opens. Clay’s scent carries in here just as heavily as his closet. I abandon so much as thinking about using my bodywash. I’ll use whatever he has, and I’m sure he’ll think nothing of it. I strip out of my clothes, figure out which way the knobs work to turn the water to singe- your-body hot, and then root around for a towel. I do a little bit of snooping. It can’t be helped. I’m what Lennon likes to call a Nosey Rosy. Holding back after a quick peek is not easy, but I do it.

I step inside and go about my tasks, using Clay’s bodywash, my facewash, and call it a night. As much as I’d love to stand under the hot spray, using all his hot water after he’s been out saving my rig from further destruction or someone else hurting themselves if they careen into it is not an option.

I’m stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my body when a whisp of fur scurries between my legs, almost scaring me half to death. I almost think my imagination got the best of me until I keep feeling it and look down.

“Well, aren’t you the prettiest thing ever. You must be Jasmine.” I bend down. Her tiger-striped head tips up, giving me the sign to give her all the pets in the world. While I’m giving Jasmine scratches, I hear the tell-tale sign of Nala, her nails clicking on the hardwood floors, and I’m sure both of my hands will be full before I so much as think of getting any sleep.