Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Words.
Thoughts.
Answers.
C’mon, brain. Come up with them. “They are?”
“Yeah. Duh. You’re coming with me.”
“But I invited myself,” I say, feeling a little more flustered than usual. Holy shit. I did invite myself. Did Owen want me to come along?
“I’m glad you’re coming,” he says, answering instantly, easing my nerves, before he adds, “Trust me on that.”
“Okay. Thanks. But still, I want to do this. To get some fun little things for Declan’s mom. It’ll be sweet.”
Owen nods, letting go of me to adjust his glasses. “Yeah, it is sweet. We’ll both do it. It’ll be from both of us.”
That feels entirely too couple-y for words, so I say nothing. Just nod, unsure what to make of this him-and-me pair-up.
But maybe it’s just the road trip.
Yeah, that’s it.
Driving with someone for four hours can make you feel like you’re a thing.
When you’re not.
We cruise through the gourmet shop, picking up snacks for the drive, as well as little items here and there for the cabin, including another tin of cocoa for Declan’s mom. At the counter, the cashier rings us up, then I slide my card out of my wallet, eager to pay.
“I mean it. I’ve got it,” I say firmly.
“Let’s split it. You already paid for gas,” Owen says, taking out his wallet, but I shake my head, curl a hand over his to stop him.
Oh!
That’s quite nice . . . more than nice. I don’t want to stop. I want to run my thumb across his knuckles, touch him slow and sensual, learn how he reacts to my hands on his body.
Great. Fucking great.
I’m getting turned on yet again in the gourmet convenient store on the side of the California road as I imagine seducing my best friend.
“Why don’t you pay for the snacks on the drive back?” I suggest, grasping for logic as I let go of his hand.
“Fine,” he says, tucking his credit card away, then grumbling, “You’re so bossy.”
The clerk packs the items, then flashes a grin. “Drive safely, now,” she says.
“I will,” I reply, as I grab one bag and Owen snags the other. When I push on the door to leave, a blast of cold air lashes me. “Brrr. It’s Antarctica.”
Owen gestures to the car, several feet away. “Want me to run over there first and get your jacket for you? Would that help?”
“Mock me with your Canadian blood, why don’t you?”
“Well, do you, River?”
Shivering, I growl. “I’ll survive the ten feet.”
“Look at you. Braving the elements. It’s amazing and, honestly, a little inspiring,” he says, faux choking up.
“I’m endlessly inspiring. I’m also freezing,” I say, as we quickly set the bags on the back seat, then hop in. I turn the car on, then arch a brow. “Want to go wild?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“Maybe it is.”
“I’ll bite. What are we doing that’s wild?”
“Butt warmers,” I say salaciously, then hit the button on the console to turn up the heat on the seats.
“Bring it on,” Owen says, and tosses me a sly grin. “Nothing I like better than a hot ass.”
I fan my hand in front of my face, reverting to flirting once more. “And now I need to cool off.”
“Cooling off is overrated,” Owen says, as I pull out of the lot, and back onto the highway.
Maybe I don’t entirely want to cool off either.
Once we hit the stretch of concrete ribbon, my thoughts return to Owen’s comment at the register. To my own wayward mind. And sometimes, wayward minds win. “By the way, you’re right.”
“About what?”
I shoot him a sly smile. “I am definitely bossy.”
My remark takes a few seconds to land, but when it does, I catch a glimpse of his lips curving into a sexy little grin. The tip of his tongue flicks across the corner of his mouth, then he turns to face me. “Is that so?”
“Yes. It is.”
Owen leans his head back against the headrest, grinning. “Have to say, I’m not at all surprised to learn that.” Then he adds, his voice dropping lower, hitting a smoky tone, “Also, bossy can be good.”
I should pump the brakes.
Truly, I should.
But the more miles I put between San Francisco and us, the harder that gets.
7
OWEN
After I take two ibuprofens, I pop a pumpkin seed in my mouth and chew. Once I’m done, I grab the can of bubbly water and knock some back.
Dual purpose—the food and drink stop me from talking.
From picking up where we left off.
Asking all sorts of questions.
Did you dislike Ezra for the reason I’m hoping you did? Because you were jealous of him since he was with me? Since it sounded like you were, and that would honestly be awesome because I’ve been there, done that, when it comes to your exes too.
Or other questions.
What are you looking for in a relationship, River? Because I know you’re looking. That’s not a secret. You barked it out the other night at your bar. Like, maybe . . . could you be looking for a guy like me?