Chapter 4

Forgetting

The hotel was beautiful. It was right on the water, not a spot she would have picked for herself, but Jinx and Brandy had made the reservations, telling her to just enjoy herself and try to relax. Right, when had she been able to relax in her life? She wasn't even sure she new how. But, after the last 24 hours, she was glad to be as far away as possible. She took the Red Eye, but really didn't get much rest on the flight, so upon entering her room, she flopped down on the bed, and promptly fell asleep.

Her dreams were filled with images of cowboys and mud, and Marshall's voice whispering in her ear, how good messy could be. She awoke with a start, sitting up and staring blankly around the room, trying to get her bearings. Hotel in nowhere Mexico, she remembered. She fell back onto the bed, realizing she had not been dreaming. She was hoping to wake up to find she was back in her bed, in her house, and that the past 24 hours were a nightmare, and nothing more. She stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity, replaying in her head what happened in the elevator. Stop it, she chided herself. She didn't plan on spending her entire two weeks thinking about what almost happened. And how much I wanted it to happen.

Trying to squelch her inner dialogue, she opted to take a shower. After travelling all night, and sleeping half the day way, she felt grimy and just wanted to feel clean again. She opened her suitcase and pulled out a pretty blue sundress. I didn't pack that, she thought. There was a note sitting on top of the dress, in her sister's handwriting.

Mary, I know you "don't do dresses," but I saw this and thought it would be perfect for you in Mexico. Nobody knows you there, so you can dress up

without worry. Have fun. Love, Brandi.

Mary smiled, thinking how much her sister had changed since meeting Peter. His positive outlook seemed to have an effect on everybody, even Mary, albeit slight. She put the dress aside, opting instead for a pair of black shorts and a red tank top.

She sat on the balcony of the hotel, overlooking the ocean, and sighed. It really was beautiful, and watching the waves creep up the sand, and slide back out to sea again was rather cathartic. If Marshall were here, he would probably spout off some random trivia about the tides and the waves, and how the sound is used for relaxation techniques by psychologists. Dammit, she thought. Even when I'm thousands of miles away, I still can't get him out of my head!

In fact, she had thought of nothing else on the flight. How was she supposed to get him out of her head, when every time she closed her eyes, she could feel his body pressed up against hers, and his open mouthed kisses on her neck. And the words he breathed in her ear kept repeating over and over, 'hear and feel what I am saying.' Oh, she felt what he was saying, all right. But what the hell did he expect her to do with that? She didn't do feelings. That's what got her into this mess in the first place. Telling him she needed to release some tension. She didn't want to feel, and there he was, in her face, telling her what she needed.

How dare he? How does he know what she needs? "What I need is a stiff drink and maybe a Mexican cowboy," she said out loud, as she stood up and headed out the door. She passed the hotel bar, wanting something more loud and busy. 'Messy,' the voice in her head said. She walked across the street to a bar called Yesterday. The door vibrated in her hand as she pulled it open. Yes, she thought. She wanted the music so loud it would drown out Marshall's voice, and the words that she couldn't get out of her head.

She grabbed a stool at the corner of the bar, and flagged down the bartender. "Beer, please, and a shot of whisky." She shouted, to be heard over the music. The bartender nodded, and turned to fill her order. While she waited, she scanned the bar, taking in the exits, bathrooms, amount of people, and did a quick assessment. Good God, she thought. I'm on vacation, and I'm still checking for threats. I just need to chill.

Just then, the bartender, Chris as it stated on his name tag, returned with her drinks, and she grabbed the whiskey from him and downed it quickly. Slamming it back down, she gestured for another. "Might want to bring the bottle." She said, as he turned away to retrieve said whiskey.

"Rough night?" He asked, setting the bottle down beside her empty glass.

"Rough life," she replied, pouring another shot and downing that one too.

Four shots and two beers later, she was finally feeling some of the tension of the past 24 hours melting away. One more shot, and she turned, and slid off the bar stool, pausing to get her balance, and sauntered out onto the dance floor. Her body was reacting to the music, and she let it, let the beat flow through her. God, it felt good not to think, just to feel. Her eyes drifted closed as her hips swayed back and forth to the music. Suddenly, she felt a warmth behind her, moving with her and she unconsciously leaned back into it. A hand slid around her waist, and pulled her back, and she didn't fight, just went with it. They moved in unison for short time, her mind envisioning Marshall holding her, swaying with her, touching her. She leaned her head to the side, silently asking for him to continue his feast on her neck.

She felt him lean over and froze when a voice that wasn't her partners said, "Vamos a sacar de aquí, Gatito."