Write Your Own Song

Chapter 31

"Oh no …" Remy pulled the covers over her head. "It wasn't a dream."

"Dream? Are you saying last night was like dream?" Bobby asked, raising his eyebrows with a self satisfied smirk.

Remy lowered the scratchy bedspread and gave him her best "give me a break" look. "Nightmare, I meant nightmare." She scooted up in bed, the sheets clutched across her chest, hair rumpled, not a stitch of makeup anywhere – she looked hot.

"Right, then why did you say 'dream'? You're slipping, Rem." He reached out and ran a fingertip over her tattoo that was on her upper arm, tracing it. A gun lying on a bed of roses. Steel and softness. He liked it.

She pushed his hand off her arm like she was swatting a pesky mosquito. "Whatever," she said. "If I could, I would shoot you right now, but someone has to drive Jack to the airport."

Bobby chuckled. "Pretty sure you didn't want to shoot me last night. If I recall, you made the first move."

She blew out a puff of air, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "Beer goggles."

"You had one beer."

"Post traumatic stress. It's been a long week."

Taking a chance, he slid his hand under the cover and up her naked thigh. "Wanna go another round?"

"You're so romantic, Bobby," she said with annoyance, but she made no move to knock his hand away.

"You know you love it."

"What time is it?"

He didn't bother to look over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the end table. "Early."

He leaned forward, his breath on her neck as he moved his arm up around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She tilted her head to give him better access, and asked, "Jack?"

He nipped her shoulder. "Is not invited."

"Won't he wonder where you are?"

"Jack has never voluntarily woken up before noon in his life. We got time," Bobby said with a grin, rolling her on top of him.

XxXxXxXxXx

A car horn sounded outside and Remy groaned, ducking her head against Bobby's chest. "That's my cab."

"You might want to put some clothes on. Don't want to give the poor guy a heart attack."

She nudged him with her elbow and laughed. "Thanks for the tip, Bobby."

"No problem."

She pulled the blanket off the bed as she stood up, wrapping herself in it as she bent to pick up her crap that was scattered all over the room. She picked up Bobby's briefs and made a face, flinging them at his head.

"I didn't get to say good-bye to Jack," she said, stuffing everything into a cheap duffle bag she'd picked up when they stopped for her to get some clothes to replace the scrubs and Bobby's jersey.

"I'll tell him for ya." Bobby started to get dressed, wishing the morning could have lasted a little longer. The distraction was nice.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, for once the bitchy glare was gone and if he didn't know her better, he would have said she looked concerned and maybe a little bit worried. "This isn't over yet, is it?"

"I'm taking him to meet his mom," Bobby answered, choosing to ignore the fact that she was probably referring to guns and bad guys, not family reunions.

"Go easy on him." She said it with an edge, an unspoken threat.

"You say that like I won't."

She rolled her eyes. "You know you won't. It's like you don't even realize half the shit that comes out of your mouth."