Page 65 of The Reluctant Roommate

A few minutes later, she returned to the car. “Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the I-don’t-know-what-you’ll-think-of-this news?”

“Just give it to me in one hit.”

“They have a room. It was more expensive than it showed on the app as it’s the last room and they just put their prices up. I took it. The I-don’t-know-what-you’ll-think-of-this news is that it’s a queen room. One queen bed. No pullout beds available.”

“Oh.” A low burn started deep in Morgan’s belly. One bed. Only one bed. They had to stay here as it was too dangerous to drive farther, and this was possibly the last room in town. A flickering fire ignited. One bed. They’d go out for dinner, maybe drink too much wine. They’d get back to a chilly room, turn the heater on, snuggle on the bed, their legs entwined, until it was time to sleep.

Would they sleep?

No. Morgan was very sure that sleep would be a long time coming. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I’m sure we will.”

Was that a tremor in Heidi’s voice? Excitement about the coming night?

Morgan snorted to herself. More like nerves about confronting Serena.

Chapter 30

And They Have to Share It

They decided to leave Serena until morning. As Morgan said, it would give them more time to figure out a plan.

After checking in, Heidi flicked through the tourist brochure she’d taken from reception. “The Silver Dollar Saloon is the oldest continuously operating bar in Colorado. Let’s go there.”

It was a short but cold trudge through the snow to the Silver Dollar. The old two-story hotel was worn and shabby on the outside, its dark timber lit with neon beer signs. It took a moment for Heidi’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The polished wooden bar ran the full length of the long room. Behind the bar, rows of were bottles lined up, some obviously used regularly, others covered in a layer of dust. A massive old mirror reflected nearly the entire room. Lean cowboy types in worn jeans and thick jackets sat at the bar nursing beers, while a couple who looked like tourists sat at a table with margaritas. A shuffleboard stood along the other wall, and a shout of laughter drifted over from the far end of the bar.

The bartender ambled up to them. “What can I get you folks?”

“A margarita please,” Heidi said. “On the rocks with salt.”

“Make that two.” Morgan nodded.

“Coming right up.”

Heidi collected a complimentary tub of popcorn from the machine and brought it and a bottle of Cholula over to Morgan. “Margs and spicy popcorn. I might not need dinner.”

“You will,” the bartender said as he set down two margs on the counter. “Popcorn ain’t enough to fill a chipmunk.” He passed across two menus. “Burger with bourbon sauce is good.”

When he’d gone, Heidi turned to Morgan. In the dim light, her blond hair almost seemed to glow. Her long fingers curled around her margarita glass, one finger idly drawing pattens in the condensation. The old saloon seemed a long way from her modern town house, from the hipster surroundings of the Park Grille and coffee shops that seemed her natural habitat, but Morgan appeared at ease here. She’d hooked her feet on the barstool and was staring at the huge gilt-framed mirror that rose to the ceiling.

With a start, Heidi’s gaze connected with Morgan’s in the reflection. Morgan smiled a slow, lazy smile, and she raised her margarita glass.

“Cheers,” Morgan said. “This is good shit.”

It must be strong shit, too, if Morgan was swearing. The tequila burned warm in Heidi’s stomach. How long since they’d had lunch in Fairplay? At least three or four hours. Heidi’s fingers itched to grab a handful of popcorn, but Morgan’s gaze in the mirror had her captivated.

Morgan sipped her drink, and her eyes in the mirror never left Heidi’s.

Heidi shifted closer on her stool, and her knee nudged Morgan’s. Another shuffle and their thighs touched. And still they stared at each other over the dusty bottles of unpopular spirits, over the oak bar. Somewhere, someone laughed. The tourist couple finished their drinks and came to the bar to order more. The cowboys took another swallow of beer.

The bartender walked into Heidi’s line of sight. She blinked, the connection broken. “Decided?” he asked.

Decided? On what? She stared at him. On Morgan? On what they might do? The queen bed at their motel flashed into her mind. Morgan on the left, Heidi on the right. That was what they’d decided. And it was a big enough bed that they wouldbe fine sharing. That was also what they’d agreed. And now the bartender was asking them…

Wait. No.

“Food,” he said, tapping the menu with a bitten fingernail. “You going with the burger and bourbon sauce?”