—T-SHIRT I careened onto the interstate and set Misery to medium-high, my head still reeling. Reyes was nothing short of an enigma. So primal and ethereal. So fierce and, well, pissed. But damn those biceps. My cell started singing out the chorus to “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?” I flipped it open. “What’s up, Cookie?” “So?” “So?” “So?” “Cookie, seriously.” “Charley Davidson,” she said in her best motherly voice, “don’t think for a minute you’re going to keep even the smallest details from me.” I cracked up, then thought about Reyes again and my breath hitched in my chest. “Oh, my god, Cook, he’s so … he’s just so…” “Stunning? Gorgeous? Magnetic?” “Add really, really angry to that, and you’ve nailed him with a sledgehammer.” She sucked in air through her teeth. “I was afraid of that. You have to tell me everything. Wait, where are you?” “On the interstate, heading out of Santa Fe.” “Well, stop.” “Here?” “Yes.”
