The Cora Carmack New Adult Boxed Set: Losing It, Keeping Her, Faking It, and Finding It plus bonus material (51 page)

“I’m following you, remember?”

That was one of the few things I remembered.

“I don’t know. I guess we’re on our own.”

I could have made more of an effort. I could have found Internet access somewhere and messaged her on Facebook. And maybe I would later. Right now, I was more intrigued with this “we” idea of Hunt’s.

“In that case, let’s go explore Prague.” He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and started walking.

I stayed where I was and called, “Should we find a place to stay? I think they have a metro system here and trolleys.”

“We’ll get to all that. For now, let’s just walk.”

My jaw dropped. He couldn’t possibly serious. I was tired and cranky and my backpack was heavy.

“Why would we do something as stupid as that?”

He smiled. “Because you wanted an adventure.”

Then he started walking, and this time he didn’t stop
when I called. I stood in disbelief for a few seconds before jogging to catch up with him. My lungs protested from the twenty seconds of almost-running, so I had a feeling they would start an all-out revolution on this “adventurous” walk.

I said, “I can have an adventure without gaining bunions and ruining my pedicure.”

He shook his head. “I’m fairly certain it’s in the dictionary that it’s impossible to have an adventure while worrying about things like pedicures.”

Hunt had picked up a map at the train station, and he said there was a neighborhood not too far away that should have plenty of inns and hostels to choose from. We’d go there first.

It wasn’t exactly my idea of an adventure. I still would have preferred a taxi or the metro. But I did have to admit, it was refreshing to walk the stone sidewalks and take in the architecture. There were plenty of modern buildings and restaurants, but occasionally we’d turn a corner, and I’d feel like I stepped straight into a fairy tale, complete with stone gargoyles staring down at us from half the buildings we passed.

Hunt and I argued over how to pronounce words we saw on signs. Some of them used almost every consonant in the alphabet with only a few vowels. We argued about what the words meant. I always chose the most unlikely meaning possible, just to see how riled up I could get him.

“There is absolutely no way it means that.”

“You don’t know. Do you speak Czech?”

“Maybe I’ll learn, just to prove how ridiculous you are.”

“Good luck with that, soldier.”

It was entertaining enough that I didn’t pay too much attention to the slight ache in my feet or the hitch in my lungs or the pinch in my back from the pulling weight of my bag. Or not for a while anyway. After about an hour, my feet were bitching and my back ready to mutiny. I had to concentrate on breathing and talking so that I didn’t start panting. Then I looked up at one of the buildings we were passing and stopped in my tracks.

“Jackson! Do you know where you’re going?”

He held up the map and said, “Of course I do. We’ll be there any minute now.”

I let my backpack slip off my shoulders and plopped it on the sidewalk. I was not moving one more step.

I pointed and said, “Why is it, then, that we’re passing the Vodka Jell-O Shot place again?”

“I told you, Kelsey. There is no way Minutková Jídla means vodka Jell-O shots. That’s clearly a restaurant.”

“Yeah, a restaurant that serves Jell-O shots.”

“It has to be something to do with a minute or minutes.”

“That’s because it’s instant Jell-O! But the point is . . . we’ve already been here.”

He looked then at the restaurant, and I saw the confirmation on his face.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not . . . well . . .” He consulted his map again, twisting it in few different directions and said, “We might be a
little
lost.”

“This is your idea of adventure? I thought soldiers were supposed to be good at navigation.”

“I have a solution,” he said.

My backpack was starting to look like a very tempting chair, but I convinced myself to stay standing. I placed my hands on my hips and said, “Let’s hear it.”

He crossed to me with the map in his hand, and came close enough that he could probably smell the sweat trickling down my back. I should have been self-conscious, but when I craned my head back to meet his gaze, his smile tore through my thoughts like a tornado, and left them scattered and in pieces. He leaned in, and my heart jumped.

He reached out an arm, and dropped the map in a trash bin just behind me. He stayed there, our chests less than an inch away from touching and said in a low, deep voice, “Problem solved.”

T
hat’s your solution to getting us lost?”

He shrugged. “If we’re not trying to get to any particular place, we can’t ever really be lost. We’re just exploring.”

“But we need to find a place to stay and put our things and—”

“Later. It’s still early, Kelsey. We’ve got all day.”

He might be patient, but I wasn’t. I was just about to demand that we find a place to stay or get a cab when his hand touched my elbow and skimmed down to my wrist.

“Trust me,” he said.

I shivered.

I
did
trust him . . . which made abso-fucking-lutely zero
sense. My memory of the night before was a black hole. I should be wary of him. I sure as hell shouldn’t be alone with him now, not without knowing what happened last night. But with his hand circled around my wrist, he could have led me anywhere.

And now I was supposed to go off with him, no plan, no map, no idea where we were heading? It was the opening plot of a horror movie. I might have been in
Hostel,
the reality TV version.

I made myself say, “Tell me what happened first.”

His hand slid down from my wrist, and he caught my fingers between his.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Kelsey. And I wouldn’t let anyone else either.”

“So, someone drugged me. Then what?”

“I don’t know that for sure. I just know you were fine. Feisty and ready to take my head off. Then we—”

“We what?”

His eyes dropped to my lips, and he shook his head.

“We were talking, and it was like you were drunk out of nowhere. You were babbling and slurring your words, and you couldn’t stand up straight.”

“So you took me to a hotel?”

“I didn’t want to leave you in a hostel, not when you’d be passed out cold and sharing a room with a dozen people. I took you to my hotel room, then I got another one for me.”

“That’s it?”

“I suppose I could also talk about you calling me a pansy for not taking your clothes off.”

“I did WHAT?”

He chuckled and bent, scooping up my backpack. He threw my bag over his shoulder along with his. Then he tugged on my hand, and started pulling me down the street.

I could have dug in my heels and refused. Or maybe I couldn’t have. Not where he was concerned.

“HOLD ON. You can’t say something like that and not elaborate.”

He smiled. “You can when it’s a bribe. I’ll tell you later. After I’ve shown you my kind of adventure.”

My mind steered straight into the gutter every time he mentioned an adventure. It was inevitable with a guy who looked like him.

He took a random turn, and pulled me along.

I said, “For the record, I think this no-map thing is a terrible idea.”

“Noted.”

“Things could go incredibly wrong.”

“Or incredibly right.”

I dragged my feet a little as we walked, but I was more intrigued than I let on. With him carrying my backpack and our fingers laced together, I was fine with wherever we went.

We walked a few blocks before happening upon a metro stop. He glanced at me over his shoulder, and then pulled me toward the stairs.

“Oh, so now we don’t have to walk to have an adventure?”

He shot me a look, and I said, “Fine. I get it.
Trust you
.”

We descended the stairs, and I expected something dark, dank, with that lovely decay-meets-urine smell that seemed to hang around most subway stations. Shockingly, the station was shiny, clean, and modern. Hunt pulled me over to a large map of the metro stops. He dropped both our bags on the ground, stepped in front of me, and said, “Close your eyes.”

I tried not to look skeptical.

One thing I’d learned in life: the phrase “Close your eyes” was usually either followed by something very good (i.e., kissing) or very bad (i.e., murder, pranks, or something gross placed in your hand).

I was really hoping this would fall more on the kissing side of the spectrum. His hands squeezed my shoulders in encouragement, and I let my eyelids fall. The anticipation coated my skin, a thin frost that had me shivering. One hand left my shoulder, and I felt him walk around to stand at my back. His breath touched my neck, and the heat melted the frost. I had to concentrate to keep from falling back into him.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he spoke into my ear.

I couldn’t manage to piece together words myself, so I nodded, and his cheek grazed mine.

“Ready?”

That was all the warning I got before he took hold of my shoulders and began to spin me.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Keep your eyes closed!”

He spun me three times, then stilled my body with his hands.

“Point,” he said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

I threw my hand up and he said, “Open your eyes.”

He reached around me and placed his finger on the metro stop closest to where I’d pointed. Malostranská. “That’s where we’re going,” he said.

“Really?”

He picked up our bags and said, “Really.”

“What if it’s a terrible neighborhood? It could be dangerous.”

“I told you I would never let anything bad happen to you.”

“Some things in the world are outside even your control.”

His shoulders tensed, and his gaze darkened. “I know that. Believe me . . . I know.”

A haunted expression stole over his face, filled with ghosts and shadows. It was the kind of look that told me more about him than any words he could ever say. He meant it when he said he would protect me. It was written as plainly across his face as whatever tragedy tore through his memories because of my words.

I couldn’t look at that face and
not
trust him.

I laced my fingers with his and said, “I’m in.”

When he smiled, it was almost like those ghosts had never been there.

We bought our metro passes, and together figured out which train to take. The metro platform looked like something out of a science fiction novel. Everything I’d seen of Prague before this looked like I’d stepped into the past, but this was the opposite. The walls and ceilings were composed of gold, silver, and green tiles with hundreds of small domes that formed one long tube. A thin, bright line ran the length of the curved ceiling, casting the whole tunnel in an eerie glow.

The train was quiet as it sped into the station, but my hair tossed in the wind it created. The train car we entered was already pretty full, and new riders streamed in front of and behind us. I was still searching for a place to sit or stand or even grab hold when the train started moving. I teetered sideways into my neighbor, then felt Hunt grip my arm and pull me back toward him.

“Grab on, princess.”

I clutched at his waist, and used his body to steady myself.

He spoke into my ear. “I meant grab the overhead bar, but that works, too.”

I said, “I don’t think I can reach it.”

In reality, I didn’t even want to try. I much preferred holding on to him.

The train was so packed that at any given time I was touching at least three people. On the opposite side of Hunt, a tall guy in his midtwenties with shoulder-length hair smiled down at me every time I brushed against him. The train slowed as it came into the next station, and Hunt’s hand gripped my hip to keep me steady. It stayed there even once we started moving, possessive and strong. I could feel the heat from his hand through my jeans like a brand.

As soon as a seat near us came open, he nudged me toward it. I collapsed back onto the bench. I gestured for him to hand me my backpack, but he shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

He stood in front of me, directly between me and the long-haired guy, blocking me like a bodyguard. I’d be pissed if it weren’t so hot. He lifted both hands above his head to hold on to the bar, and it revealed that same section of skin at his waist that had been driving me crazy for the better part
of twelve hours.

My mouth went dry.

Would it be weird if I reached out and touched the toned muscle there? With my face?

If he weren’t currently glaring at the long-haired guy, I’d think he was doing this on purpose.

We pulled into the station I’d chosen, and Hunt picked up my hand again as the train slowed to a stop. I followed him out of the station and up to the street, and even once we were out of the crowds of moving people, his hand stayed tight around mine.

Whatever had happened between us last night . . . it had changed him. He was touching me again now, but it was different than the way I could remember him touching me last night. Now he touched me like he knew me, not like some stranger in a bar. He looked at me when he thought I couldn’t tell. And he wasn’t asking questions, at least not any prying ones.

Something in my stomach began to cave in, and I could feel it falling away.

“Nothing else crazy happened last night, right?”

“You mean besides your pansy comment?”

That actually sounded exactly like something I would say.

“Yes, besides that.”

“You might have declared your love for me once or twice. Asked to bear my children.”

I rolled my eyes. “Be serious.”

“You don’t think a declaration of love is serious?”

“I don’t think a declaration of love
happened
.”

“Are you remembering more?”

“No, I just know myself. I might get touchy-feely when I’m drunk, but it’s the other kind of touchy-feely.”

He nodded, and no more jokes came, so I guessed that I had hit it on the head. He didn’t know my secrets. I’d just hit on him. A lot if I could guess. That’s why he was acting differently. And
that
I could deal with.