Tight Quarters: Strangers on a Train Read online

  “You read it?”

  “Yes. I read any travel writing I can get my hands on. It’s my favorite genre.”

  “You travel a lot?”

  “No, not much.” Not at all. Not until now. “I guess that’s why I like to read about other people doing it.”

  “I picked it up more for the story of how they got this farm going. Total wreck when they bought it.”

  “But such an adventure. And they knew their dream when they saw it.”

  “Not much of a dream at the start. Broken-down place, no water, and she doesn’t even speak the language.”

  “That’s the adventure part,” Brenna said with a laugh. “And they were in love, so that helped. They shared that dream.”

  “If you say so. I’m looking forward to reading about how they renovate the place.”

  She smiled back, her fingers touching the schedule she wanted to show him. But maybe she needed to get to know him better first.

  “I guess.” She wondered how renovation could be more exciting than reading about the romance and beauty of southern France. But to each their own. “So, you’re a police officer?”

  “Yes. Well, I was. It’s still habit to say it even though I retired six months ago.”

  “Retired? But you’re so young!” she blurted.

  “Thanks, but I learned the hard way that life’s too short. Take it from me.”

  “Why should I? Take it from you, that is?”

  She’d meant to fish for more details about him, but the innuendo landed between them, making her cheeks flood with warmth again.

  “I mean, what happened?” She pretended she didn’t see the twinkle in his eye.

  “I was shot one night when I was out on the street. Almost died, and took a hell of a long time to bounce back. When I did, I decided to get out, move on. It was a wake-up call, I guess,” he said, so casually he might have been telling her what the weather outlook was.

  “You were shot? You almost died? Someone shot you? With a gun?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, with a gun. That’s the usual way. I was lucky. Two hit the vest before one missed. A lot of guys have had it happen more than once. I decided I wasn’t willing to risk a repeat performance, much to the embarrassment of my old man.”

  “Your family doesn’t approve?”

  “Long line of NYPD. They would have stuck it out.” He broke eye contact for the first time in the conversation, though his tone remained casual.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m taking a train ride,” he responded lightly.

  “Seriously.”

  “I am serious.” His gaze met hers again. “At the moment, I’m just enjoying some free time and scoping out the possibilities.”

  “In other words, you don’t have a plan.”

  “Do I need one?” He seemed so thoroughly amused that she found herself tightening her fist around the papers that she’d written the schedule on.

  “What have you got there?”

  She let out a heavy breath. “I worked up a schedule for the room. When we could both have, um, private time there.”

  “You wrote it up?”

  She nodded.

  “Let me see.”

  She unfisted her hand, unfolding the paper and pressing it flat the best she could, handing it to him. “We can make changes based on your input, of course.”

  He nodded, scrunched up the paper and tossed it on the table.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked. “It took me all afternoon.”

  “That was time you could have been out here, enjoying the start of the trip, Brenna. Think about it. We can just talk to each other. You need some time alone, you tell me and vice versa. It’s that simple. We don’t need a constitution.”

  She frowned, feeling foolish. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It is. Just tell me what you want, okay? I’ll do the same. Like I mentioned, I don’t plan on spending much time in the room other than for sleeping, so it will be easy, I promise.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, feeling like an idiot.

  “I made notes too,” she said, then regretted saying it out loud.

  “Notes?”

  “On Post-its. You know, to hang on the door. Things like Don’t Enter until Note Is Removed so we didn’t have mishaps. Like walking in on one another while we’re dressing.”

  He pursed his lips. “I see. And would that be so bad?” he asked, the mischief rising to the surface. “I think we should just take our chances.”

  She fought a smile in response. He leaned over the table, holding his hand out.

  “Give me the notes, Brenna.”

  She resisted, but then pulled them out of her bag, putting them in his hand. She watched him dispose of them like he had the schedule.

  “Are you up for an adventure of your own, Brenna?” He picked up the book, looking at it. “Because that’s what we have here, right? A chance to live our own adventure.”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  Though she did know. She wanted that adventure very much, but she wasn’t sure she could have it.

  “What holds you back?”

  “I’m claustrophobic.”

  “Most people are, at least a little.”

  “Did what happened when we were in the room seem like a little to you?” she bit back.

  “No. But all the more reason to take it by the balls and squeeze, Brenna. You’re here. Make it count.”

  She shook her head. “I’m more successful, more comfortable, if I can control my environment.” Her eyes slid over to where the schedule lay in waste.

  He stared at her and then took a breath, sliding out of the booth to land on her side, beside her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you that you can’t control your environment all the time. There are too many variables. Me, for instance. Things you can’t control by drawing boxes around them. Like how this train will follow the track and tilt to the inside as we go around that upcoming curve. It will make my body shift a bit closer to yours. But it’s okay to be uncomfortable. To know you can’t control everything. Maybe you can even learn to enjoy it.”

  Her mind scrambled as she looked out the window at the curve in the tracks he was indicating. It was a wide, long curve circling around the base of a tall, stony hill. In just moments, the train would be only yards from the rock face, and she was bare inches from Reid, trapped between the two. Her throat tightened, strangling her voice as she put both hands on his shoulder, intending to push, needing to escape. He didn’t move.

  Big. Solid. Close.

  Her heart slammed, her breath shortened, warmth infusing her entire body, but she knew it wasn’t because she was afraid. The entire time they rode around the curve, she was focused on Reid. What she had perceived as the threat somehow suddenly became safety, and she felt herself holding more tightly to his arm.

  As he predicted, his weight shifted slightly toward her, pressing against her hip. He did nothing to brace himself or keep the motion from bringing them closer. His dark gaze burned into her, and she returned it as they swept around the other side of the hill. He leaned in, much more than was necessary from the slight tilt of the tracks, and smiled.

  Brenna wasn’t at all sure she was even breathing when he put his face against her hair, whispering into her ear.

  “See? You’ll be just fine, Brenna.”

  Then he got up, took his book and left. Brenna wrapped her arms around herself, feeling chilled in the absence of his heat and wondering what the hell had just happened. Eyeing the papers on the table, she grabbed them, balling them up and dumping them in a receptacle as she made her way to the dining car. All the while, she could hear Reid’s whisper in her ear, the challenge in his voice. She couldn’t forget the heat in his eyes, and in her heart the sparks of a possible adventure flickered.

  Chapter Three

  Reid wondered who the hell Mel was. He’d noted the flowers when he was in the room earlier but
hadn’t thought much about it as he calmed Brenna down. The name on the card that came with them was androgynous enough to make him curious. Not that it was any of his business.

  He’d just been flirting with her, loosening her up. The woman was wound so tightly that she might spring a gasket any second. Still…he’d enjoyed getting up close and wouldn’t argue if they could get closer over the trip.

  Melvin or Melanie? Melissa?

  It had to be Melanie—no one named their kid Melvin anymore.

  That settled, he poked around some more. Old habits were hard to break. He couldn’t help but investigate the scene. She’d neatly stacked all of her things on the side of the room with the actual bed, leaving him to use the pullout.

  He could deal with that. Especially if there was any chance he might end up over on the other side.

  More interesting was the waste bin half-full of wadded-up paper. He checked out a few—drafts of the schedule she’d showed him and some rather funny discards of the “signs” she had drawn up.

  No Farting Allowed in the Berth.

  All Underwear Must Be Picked Up and Put Away.

  He laughed out loud. Brenna had a sense of humor—except that she was probably dead serious. He thought about hanging up the farting sign, just to see her turn red again.

  As for underwear, Reid wondered what she wore. Something secretly sexy, or neat white cotton? He’d enjoy sliding either one off of those rounded hips. It wasn’t likely to happen, given her clear dislike of him and whatever issues she had, but it was nice to think about.

  His duffle was thrown, unpacked, on his small bed. He hadn’t brought much. It was only a four-day trip, and if he needed anything, he’d buy it when they stopped. Live in the moment. That was his current motto.

  He had brought condoms. Live in the moment, but hope springs eternal. Sharing a room might not be conducive to having any of that kind of fun on the trip, unless he found himself spending the night in someone else’s berth, which might be the best thing for everyone.

  Grabbing the tablet he’d brought with him, Reid was relieved to see that the free wireless offered on the trip was working well. After checking email, Twitter, and a few other routine items, he found himself typing Brenna’s name into the search box.

  Editing and magazine credits…no Twitter or Facebook, interestingly. Some comments on blogs and articles for people with phobias and about their therapy. Compared to many, Brenna didn’t have an extensive online presence, and he found himself a bit disappointed. And intrigued. Not many resisted the trap of social media these days.

  Then his eye caught an old newspaper article on the third page in—a car accident.

  The picture of the mangled, twisted metal was barely recognizable as a vehicle, and the caption said it all: “Rescue workers take three hours to free teen from crushed vehicle.”

  Reid swore, not needing to read the article. He knew who the teen had to be. Brenna had been caught in that for three hours?

  Suddenly, being shot didn’t seem like such a big deal. How had she survived? It appeared the other two people, the driver and passenger, hadn’t.

  He swore again, turning off the screen as Brenna walked in. She paused, stiffening as she saw him. For a moment, he thought she knew what he was looking at, but there was no way she could. Then her shoulders softened, and she closed the door, standing there like she didn’t know what to do next.

  No visible scars, no disfigurements or even so much as a limp from the accident. Apparently, the scars had all been left inside.

  “What?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re staring holes through me.” She wrapped her arms around her front.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t staring at you so much as just…staring.”

  Liar.

  But he wasn’t going to tell Brenna he’d been snooping. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for being so cavalier about her phobia. Anyone who had lived through that hell would end up with some kind of damage, and she was fighting it. Trying to subdue it.

  Admiration and desire tripped over each other, but this wasn’t a woman to be played with. She had some serious shit going on.

  She was uncomfortable, shifting her gaze away. She walked nervously to her bed and sat, grabbing a large bag and pilfering through it as if she needed to find something to do.

  “Um, listen, I need to stretch my legs,” Reid said, feeling uncomfortable as well. “I’m going to walk for a bit, find some dinner. I heard there was a movie being shown tonight. You want to come with?”

  She shook her head, not even looking up.

  Great. He couldn’t blame her, after his come-on earlier. Probably the best thing he could do would be to make himself scarce as much as possible and let her have some peace.

  “Thanks for asking. But I’m tired and I think I’ll turn in early.”

  “Okay. Well, then. Night.”

  Outside the room, Reid closed his eyes and paused for a moment before walking away. Maybe he’d meet someone else at dinner or at the movie, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to go back to the room and talk to Brenna. To smooth things out and let her know he wasn’t a jerk.

  No doubt, those condoms would stay packed away this trip. It was as much as he deserved.

  Brenna spent the rest of the night in the berth, telling herself she was getting used to the space.

  Right.

  She was an idiot. She’d frozen like a frightened deer when she’d stepped inside the room, and clearly, it had put Reid off. She knew that happened, because she’d been through it before. She couldn’t entirely help her reactions to things, but sometimes it was difficult for other people to deal with, as well. Over the years, her erratic behaviors had lost her friends, lovers. Even her family had seemed relieved when she’d gone to college.

  In truth, this time it had nothing to do with her phobia. The intensity of his stare and the way he was looking at her had stunned her. No man had looked at her like that, ever. Like she was a ripe, succulent grape that he wanted to peel and swallow whole.

  It had paralyzed her. She felt like the idiot that he now surely believed she was. Why couldn’t she just be normal for a change?

  Any normal woman would have started taking her clothes off at the door and not stopped until she had his off too.

  How’s this for an adventure, Reid? she could have said in one of those smooth, sultry tones. What do you say we start off this trip with a bang?

  Right.

  Instead, Brenna had scooted to her bed, digging through a bag for nothing in particular so he wouldn’t be able to read her face like a book. On top of that, she’d stupidly turned down his invitation for company.

  It wasn’t her claustrophobia that was keeping her from getting laid. Blatant stupidity clearly had something to do with it.

  What was Reid doing now?

  Why should she care? She’d known him less than a day.

  It was late, but he hadn’t returned. She’d rehearsed in her head what she would do, what she’d say, if he did.

  But he didn’t. Maybe he’d found someone else to watch the movie with. Spend the night with.

  Well, good for him.

  After changing into her nightgown in the tiny bathroom, she went to bed, putting herself to sleep with a mental litany of promises about how tomorrow would be better and enumerating all of the ways she would not act like an idiot around Reid. There were three days left. She could redeem herself.

  Brenna couldn’t say what woke her, but the first thing that hit her was the total dark.

  Not dark, but encompassing blackness. Nothing felt right or familiar, and it took her a few seconds of gasping, lurching wakefulness to realize where she was and what had happened.

  When she sat up, she saw the teeny orange running lights along the bottom of the wall, the streak of moonlight through window as her eyes adjusted. Her breath started to even out, her grip around the blankets loosening as she focused on the points of light.


  Reid must have come back and turned the lights off.

  Brenna rarely slept with less than a nightlight—the dark being much the same as any closed-in space—but she couldn’t exactly tell Reid that.

  Well, she had, but he’d thrown the note out about leaving at least one light on at night.

  As the roar of panic settled, she laid back down, breathing evenly. Suddenly, she became aware of his breathing too. Another unfamiliar sound. How long since she’d heard another person sleeping in the same room at night?

  Reid was less than ten feet away, crunched into the small pullout bed on the other side of the berth. He’d obviously come in after she was asleep, and the thought made her feel curiously vulnerable.

  Still, it was a comfort, strangely, knowing that he was there. The easy rhythm of his breath soothed her, and she relaxed. She was starting to ease back into sleep when her peace was splintered again.

  “I’m hit, I’m down,” Reid called out loudly, and Brenna heard the even pace of his breathing speed up. He groaned, mumbled something else. Sounds of thrashing, then a slam as his knee or elbow hit the wall.

  She’d felt guilty taking the larger space, but the small one had felt too close. Still, he was going to hurt himself if he kept thrashing, obviously having a nightmare.

  “I’m hit,” he said again, more loudly.

  A nightmare about being shot.

  Brenna slid from the bed. She didn’t know what to do exactly, but she’d lived through years of her own nightmares. She couldn’t let him just suffer through it alone. Approaching him tentatively, she saw he wasn’t thrashing now but curled up as if in pain, breathing hard.

  It broke her heart, and she forgot her own misgivings, reaching down to touch his shoulder.

  “Reid? Reid, wake up,” she said gently. She didn’t want to startle him, but she hoped to get through whatever held him in its grasp.

  “No!” he shouted. His hand moved with lightning speed and closed down tightly on her forearm. She cried his name, panicked for a moment.

  He froze, everything around them suddenly quiet except for the rhythmic engine pulsing through the body of the train, harsh breathing like static in the air between them.