Unexpected Oasis by Cd Hussey Page B

down the street while its angry owner chases behind.
    What if he tries to kiss me again? There's no way I'll be able to resist.
    "Thanks for the whiskey and the company," I say, hand gripping the doorknob tightly.
    "Any time." He pauses, but doesn't move. I can feel his eyes on me but I suddenly can't look at him. I drop my gaze to the ground and keep it there.
    Oh God. What do I do?
    "Keep your door locked. And if you need anything, I'm in the adjacent room. You still have the Walkie-Talkie?"
    "Yeah."
    "Keep it on."
    I nod and turn toward the door. If I linger much longer I'm going to do something stupid.
    The knob turns in my hand.
    "Good night, Andrea," he says as I push open the door.
    There's something to his voice that makes me turn. Moonlight paints his face, his expression wistful. God, those eyes…taking me in, devouring me. Oh. Jesus.
    I swallow. "Good night," my voice squeaks from a constricted throat.
    Door halfway open, one foot inside, I'm frozen in place. I want to touch him so badly and I know it's all over my face. I can see it in the way he's looking at me. If I invite him in, he'll accept, I know it. And I want to, my entire body burns with the mere thought.
    I swallow again. Loudly this time.
    He takes a step forward. "Andrea—"
    That's it. I panic. "Good night!" Not only does my voice squeak again, the high pitch and rapid flow of words seem to echo across the camp. I shove my way into the room and slam the door behind me, falling against the metal and breathing so heavily it's like I just closed the door on a serial killer.
    What the hell is wrong with me?
    My head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as it flops forward on my neck. Someone kill me now. Please. Just put me out of my misery.
    It takes all of four steps to reach the bathroom. I pause at the back wall, the one separating me from Trey's room. Pressing my hand to it, I resist the urge to also press my ear to the sheetrock. I wonder what he's doing. Is he just as confused as I am?
    Unless he's been blindfolded, spun in circles, and shoved from a moving van, probably not.
    Ah, well, maybe with sleep will come clarity.
    I snort out loud at my own joke.  
    And then promptly yawn. Well, sleep will bring rest if nothing else. And as Scarlett O'Hara so profoundly declared, tomorrow is another day.
    If only it came with a new brain.   

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    I nstead of clarity, or a new brain, or a fresh outlook on life, butterflies have set up house in my gut. When I wake up, they've established a colony, fluttering, whispering, "You're going to spend all day with Treyyyyy." They are unwelcome guests and I do my best to evict them with reason.
    First of all, I am Trey's charge. Really, I am his job. It isn't like he beat up the competition just for the opportunity to hang out with me. It's what he's paid to do.
    Second, I have no business fantasizing about him. I'm not even sure I'd know what to do with him. Jesus, he's like sex-on-a-stick and obviously I am not.
    Third, I'm emotional garbage. Not just an empty-wine-bottle-thrown-away-after-a-date-with-a-sad-movie-and-some-Kleenex empty garbage, but a handle-of-vodka-tossed-among-a-dozen-empty-pizza-boxes-and -a-cake-pan-after-a-week-long-bender emotional garbage. More like emotional refuse.
    No one needs to deal with that. I don't want to deal with it. So even if sex-on-a-stick Trey has an inkling of attraction to me, I can't do that to him.
    Still, I rush through my crammed morning shower, speedily prepare my face and hair, and face the day with butterfly driven anticipation.
    I get to spend the day with Treyyyyy.
    He's waiting for me outside. Leaning against the building, sunglasses pulled tight over his eyes, hands shoved casually in the pockets of his khaki cargos, light blue fishing shirt hanging gloriously on the beautiful curves of his muscles… I try to play it cool as I step from my room and he moves to greet me.
    "Hey," I say as I tuck loose bits of still damp