Crave Read Online Free Page A

minutes.
    I glance out the window to watch Jason work on my headlight. That familiar longing pulls at me. I ache with desire for him. It’s a bone-deep pain, and I don’t think it will ever end. Tears pool in my eyes. I try to make them stop, and my throat hurts with the effort. I bite my lip and let the pain force it to happen. I can fall apart once he’s gone. I just want one last kiss and then I can cry. Forever.
    Jason stomps his feet at my doorstep and walks in. The fire cracks and spits. I look into his eyes and run to him. He pulls me in tight. So tight, I almost can’t breathe. He lets go and wipes the tears from my face. His kiss is tender and tugs at my heart. We pull apart slowly, and I say, “Some girl is going to get the most amazing guy on this earth. She can never love you more than I do. But I hope she comes close and makes you happy.” Tears stream and I don’t bother to stop them.
    Jason cries too. “I love you, Casey.” He walks out the door. I crumble to the ground in a puddle.

Chapter 7

    By day three of driving, I have no more tears left to cry. I have stored Jason safely in my heart. It’s time to move on. The white lines on the interstate tick by as I drive through Nebraska. I start to form a plan. Moving to Colorado mid ski season will have its challenges. The good jobs are gone, and finding a place to live will be next to impossible. But I have an idea.
    Driving into Breckenridge, I stop at the first gas station I see. I breathe in the thin mountain air, which is laced with the mesmerizing smell of petroleum as I fill my tank. I grab a realty magazine and start calling. The third time gets me what I’m looking for. The manager will be in around two.
    I have an hour to kill, so I take a quick tour of Breckenridge. Snow cover on the roads muffles the sound of my wheels. Looking up at the Continental Divide, the mountains look like white tents set against the blue sky. Puffy clouds that resemble cotton float, and I think of shadow boxes made in elementary school. Brightly-colored old buildings line the main street in town, and ski-rack-topped vehicles edge the streets.
    I pull into a remote parking lot about a block away from the real estate agency. In the back of my car, I shuffle through a pile of clothes on hangers. Stepping out of the car, I look around to make sure nobody is watching. Goose bumps cover my legs as I drop my jeans and shimmy into an off-white wool pencil skirt. I glance around the lot again to make sure I’m still alone and pull off my tee to slide into a blue silk blouse. I slip low pumps on my feet. My hair gets finger combed and wound into a conservative French twist. I don’t have a nice coat; a ski jacket will have to do. Showtime.
    The door to the office is one of those heavy ones designed to disarm. I’m not the least bit swayed. The wool of my skirt is rough under my fingers as I smooth it down. I’m determined and hope this works.
    A keyboard clacks away. It stops and an older woman looks at me with kind eyes.
    “I have a meeting with Mr. Jones.” My voice is clear and confident, unlike my nerves.
    “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman’s lavender scent wafts toward me.
    She picks up a phone, pushes a button, and says, “Miss Cassidy is here to see you.”
    Hanging up with a click, she tells me to go on down the hall to his office. I take a deep breath and throw back my shoulders. Placing each foot heavily, I walk with purpose. Mr. Jones opens the door as I approach and offers a hand. I shake, squeezing a little harder than I like and walk in.
    “So how may I help you, Miss Cassidy?”
    “Sir, I need a job and a place to live.” Before he can sit down in judgment, I push on. “I know in resort towns cleaning people are hard to keep. They’re not always responsible and often leave you high and dry midwinter. I’m here to help you with that problem.”
    Handing him a folder, I continue, leaving no room for him to speak.