“This is stupid, right? Like . . . this is a really stupid idea?” I ask, wringing my hands together. We’re parked just around the corner from my uncle’s house.
“It’s not stupid,” Pacey says, stretching his arm across the back of my seat. We haven’t been in the car for more than twenty minutes and he’s already incredibly uncomfortable. I feel bad for him. “This means something to your mom. Like you said, this trophy meant the world to her.”
“It did. And she always said she wished she’d had it.” I bite my bottom lip as I look out the window. “We didn’t have a funeral for my mom. She wanted to be cremated and then turned into a tree. I thought that when I plant the tree, I could plant the trophy with her.” I grip my head. “Wow, it really sounds crazy. I mean, what sane person decides to drive across North America to hopefully steal a fifty-year-old artifact from the house of an uncle they’ve never met?”
This is insane. If I was watching this play out for someone else, I’d be thinking this is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard of.
Pacey scratches the side of his jaw and a smile pulls at his lips. “It’s kind of ridiculous, not going to lie about that. It’s something you’d see play out in some low-budget comedy.”
“Exactly. Something a D-list actor would star in. You’d watch it and think this is dumb, but then have a chuckle here and there, making your time spent watching it worthwhile. Is that what my life has come to, Pacey? A low-budget comedy that gains a few laughs?”
“I think temporarily it has, but it’s going to be worth it, right? Because if you didn’t go through with it, if we turned around right now, you’d regret it. Wouldn’t you?”
I nod. “I would. I would always wonder if I would’ve been able to gain justice for my mom.”
“Which is exactly why we’re going to do this.” He nudges my shoulder. “Told you, you would need me on this trip.”
“You were right.” I lean against his shoulder and rest my head in his strength. His hand falls to my hair and he gently runs his fingers through it.
“Do you have an action plan?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Do you plan on just going in there, spotting the trophy, stealing it, and running? Or do you plan on having a conversation with him first?”
“Oh, huh. I didn’t really think about it.” I lift off Pacey’s shoulder. “Oh God, I’m so not prepared for this.” What if he has me arrested? He’ll know who I am. What was I thinking?
Pacey links his hand with mine and brings my knuckles to his lips for a soft kiss. “It’ll be okay. We’ll work it out right now. Do you want to talk to him? To your uncle? Anything you have to say to him?”
I shake my head. “Not really. He’s obviously a dick, but I have no desire to dive into that. Because—what’s the point? It’s not as if I want a relationship with this man.”
“Okay, so this mission is purely an extraction. Grab the trophy and run.”
“Yes.”
“In and out.”
“Yes.” Excitement blooms inside me. “He’ll have no idea what’s happening.” An idea comes to mind. “How about this—I ring the doorbell, they invite me in once I explain who I am, and then while I take a seat in their living room, I spot the trophy and then ask for a drink. While they’re fetching a drink, I grab the trophy and then flee the premises.” In all seriousness, I turn to Pacey and say, “I’m going to need you to drive the getaway car.”
“You realize I’m going to look like a clown in a toy car, putt-putting the hell out of here?”
I laugh and say, “I do, but I think it’s going to be necessary.”
“You know I’m here for you, babe. Whatever you need.”
I lean over the console, grip his cheek, and place a chaste kiss on his lips. “I appreciate you so much.”
“And I appreciate your lips and your gratefulness. I wouldn’t mind more affection.”
Rolling my eyes, I push at him, but he grabs my hand and pulls me in close so his lips can capture mine. Instead of pulling away, I fall into his embrace and allow myself to revel in this small moment where I’m not alone. Where I have this strong, protective man at my side, helping me, guiding me.
“Mmm,” I say when I lift away from him. “You’re such a good kisser.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “What else am I good at?”
“Hopefully driving fast when you see me fleeing the crime scene.”
He chuckles, the sound hearty and addicting. “I got you, babe. Your uncle will have no idea what happened.”
“That’s what I like to hear. We should exchange seats now, so you can pull up and wait in the car.”
“Probably a good idea.” He opens the door and unfolds out of the car. He stretches his long body and then rounds the car toward me. We meet by the back and he slaps my ass as I pass him.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing my butt. “Watch it, man.”
“Oh, sorry.” He holds his hands up. “I forgot spanking gets your sweet pussy wet.”
My cheeks flame. “Pacey.” My voice comes out embarrassed.
“Aww, Winnie, you shy talking about the things that turn you on?”
He gets into the car and adjusts the seat so his legs can barely fit. I slide into my seat as well. “I don’t mind talking about the things that turn me on, I just don’t want to talk about it in front of a house with a white picket fence and a sign that says ‘Grandma Crossing’ in the front yard.”
Pacey looks out the window and then laughs. “Maybe we just spiced up the grandma’s life. You never know.”
“If that’s the case, should I shout out the window that you like your balls played with while your cock is pulsing against my throat?”
Pacey’s hands grip the steering wheel as he looks out the window. “Go ahead, make me hard, see where that gets you when it comes to fleeing the scene. My cock is going to bump into this steering wheel, making it impossible to get out of here properly.”
“Your dick is big, Pacey, but not that big.”
His eyes shoot to mine and I chuckle. “You don’t think my dick could get in the way of this steering wheel?”
“That wasn’t a challenge. Please don’t attempt to get yourself hard outside my uncle’s house to prove a point.”
“I don’t know . . . I think getting my dick up while you’re stealing a trophy adds to the low-budget comedy we’re starring in here. Everyone loves a good slapstick comedy, and that can easily be accomplished with a hard dick.” He pretends to swat at his crotch. “Oh fuck, I’m too hard to steer. This dick is in the way.”
I stare at him, wondering where this side of Pacey is coming from. “Starting to get more comfortable with me?” I ask and motion to him with one of my fingers. “Is that why you’re acting like a fool?”
“You know, once you lick someone’s asshole, there’s no more holding back.”
My eyes widen. “Pacey Lawes. Do not talk about that. Oh my God.”
He laughs out loud. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about how much you liked it either.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You realize the more you tease me, the more your chances of peeling off my clothes later are diminishing.”
He chuckles lightly and leans in to press a soft kiss to my neck. “I’m confident in my ability to make it up to you.” He kisses me again, and damn it, he’s right. Just those two kisses and I’m already inclined to forget everything he said. “Shall we get on with this heist?”
“Yes.” I place my hands in my lap. “I’m ready.”
Pacey starts the car and puts it in drive. “Where am I going?”
I glance down at the directions I wrote out and say, “Turn right at Oak, and then it should be the third house on the right.”
“Okay.” He eases the car down the road. “Before you go in there, I want you to know that I think you’re completely insane.” He glances at me. “But you’re also a fucking badass, and I think your mom would be really proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I reach over and grab his hand, looking for comfort. “Just be ready, because if I hightail it out of there, yelling and screaming, we have to fly.”
“I got you, babe.”
I GLANCE BACK AT PACEY, who’s sitting in the car, encouraging me with a smile as he dips his head so I can see him. With a deep breath, I turn toward the front door of a modest, blue bungalow and without giving it a second thought, I ring the doorbell. Luckily, my uncle RJ hasn’t graduated to the twenty-first century yet and doesn’t have a camera in his doorbell. That bodes well for when I bolt out the door.
Also noted, no screen door to have to fumble with.
No stairs either.
Or cracks in the sidewalk.
It should be—should be being the key phrase—an easy exit.
Footsteps approach, and a bout of nerves hits me all at once, triggering my flight instincts. My feet itch to sprint back to the car, but then I think about my mom and what she would do. If she were in this situation, taking on this adventure, she’d see it through. Despite how awful she was at things, she always saw them through.
That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to see it through.
The door opens and a man in his fifties stands on the other side. With long, gray hair and a matching beard, he looks as though he belongs in the mountains. The only resemblance to my mom is his blue eyes, the same color eyes I have as well.
He adjusts the glasses that rest on the tip of his nose and says, “No solicitors.”
He goes to shut the door, but before panic can consume me, I put my hand out and stop the door, surprising him. “I’m not a solicitor,” I say quickly. “I’m your niece, Winnie Berlin.”
His eyes widen in shock before they soften. “Winnie.” He clears his throat. “I, uh, I wasn’t expecting you.”
Duh.
“I know. I was in the area and thought I would just pop on by.” I twist my hands together. “Think I could come in, maybe chat?”
He looks behind him and then back at me. “Uh, of course.” He steps to the side and lets me into the house. I stand in the entryway, not wanting to go too far in without an invitation, but I allow my eyes to roam the quaint dwelling. The entryway connects with the living room, which opens up to the kitchen and a small dining room off to the right. The house is stark white, sparsely decorated with a few pictures of mountains, and the furniture looks at least twenty years old. It isn’t very homey nor welcoming.
When Uncle RJ shuts the door and moves into the living room, he scratches the back of his head, his brow knitted in confusion. “I’m sorry, I’m a little taken aback because I never in a million years expected you to show up at my door.”
“Yeah, I know, because you didn’t get along with my mom.” There’s a bout of confidence that surges through me the minute I step into this house and I don’t know if it’s from Pacey pumping me up, or if it’s because I seem to have the upper hand over Uncle RJ, but I seem to be bypassing my filter.
“It wasn’t, uh . . .” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t that I didn’t get along with her. She just made a choice I didn’t agree with.”
“Marrying my dad, I know. She told me. But she told me that she still sent you pictures and updates about me. That was kind of her, don’t you think?”
“It was.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Why, uh, why are you here?”
“I was in the area. Thought I would say hello.”
“Right, right.” He nods and looks at the ground. My eyes wander to the fireplace and I spot the trophy. My mouth waters at the sight of it. “Marisol—my . . . new wife—she’s not here right now.”
“Oh, that’s okay. It’s just nice to see family, you know, after I lost both my mom and my dad.”
He nods some more and then clears his throat. “Yes . . . uh, can I get you a drink?”
“That would be delightful,” I say, happy that I didn’t have to ask. Because, even from being here for just a few moments, I know one thing for sure—this guy doesn’t deserve my time or energy. I considered talking with him, but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of remorse in his eyes for how he treated my mom. Therefore, the heist is on.
He turns toward the kitchen and says, “Make yourself at home.”
Don’t mind if I do . . .
I step into the living room, and he says, “Oh, please take off your shoes. The carpets are new.”
Crap. That’s a bump in the road to my escape.
I kick off my flats and step into the living room. Now is the time, as he moves into the kitchen to get me something to drink. Run up to the trophy, grab it, and run.
It’s right there.
Unpolished.
Old.
Something I’m surprised he still has, but then again, it seems as though he doesn’t get rid of anything besides the carpet. That he can part with. I’m almost nervous to see what the old carpet looked like in order for him to get rid of it.
I move toward the fireplace and scan the trophy. Yup, that’s the one.
I move in closer.
Closer.
“Do you want water or milk?” Uncle RJ asks, peeking his head in, startling me just as I was about to reach for the trophy.
“Both,” I answer.
“Both?” he asks, confused.
“Uh, yeah. I like them to be mixed together.” The thought of milk and water mixed together actually makes bile form in the back of my throat, but I’m not as quick on my feet as I would’ve hoped. What host only has milk or water to offer a guest?
“Oh, that’s an, uh, an interesting combination.”
“Tastes like breastmilk, watered down like that.”
What on earth am I saying? Breastmilk? Why? Why is that what just came out of my mouth?
I’m nervous. I’m so close to capturing the trophy, but I’m choking, I can feel it. My muscles are seizing on me, my legs are turning into stone.
“Breastmilk?” Uncle RJ says.
“Yeah, nothing like a good cup of breastmilk,” I say, wringing my hands together. I literally want to die from that answer.
“That’s confusing,” he says from the kitchen.
“Don’t judge until you try it.” I edge closer so I’m right next to the trophy. “Have any pickled beets? They go swimmingly with the breastmilk.”
“I don’t.”
“Triscuits?” I move my hand up to the mantle.
“No, unfortunately.”
“Corn nuts? Ranch flavor? Delectable with breastmilk.”
“No, I don’t.”
I bring my hand to the base of the trophy, and I swear the moment I touch it the sun shines through the window and angels sing.
The Holy Grail.
It’s in my grasp. I pull it off the mantle and hold it out as I stare down at the prized possession about which my mom would speak so fondly. This . . . trophy.
This piece of plastic.
It was so important to her.
Her crowning achievement.
“The best I can offer you is tortilla chips with your faux breastmilk.” He steps into the living room with a tray of watered-down milk and a bowl of tortilla chips. “What are you doing with that?”
I look him in the eyes, then back down at the trophy. Then back at him.
Now or never.
I clutch the trophy to my chest like a football, hold my hand out for blocking, shout, “See you, sucker!” and I charge out of the living room, like a bull straight out of the gate, bypassing my shoes and going right for the door.
“Hey, come back,” Uncle RJ shouts.
But I don’t look back. I throw the door open and yell, “Start the car. Start the car!” Feeling like an absolute banshee, I sprint down the walkway in my bare feet, swatting at overgrown branches that attempt to stop me.
“Come back here,” Uncle RJ says, hot on my tail.
“Never!” I shout back. “Vengeance will be mine.”
I leap over a bush, push through the dried-out grass—it’s called watering your lawn, Uncle RJ—and sprint to the car just as Pacey pops the door open for me.
“Thief. Thief,” Uncle RJ shouts, his voice closing in.
“Drink my breastmilk, you old hag,” I yell as I hop into the car and slam the door. Smacking the dashboard, I yell, “Go, go, go. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, GO!”
Pacey slams down on the gas pedal and we fly down the street. I sink into the seat and catch my breath.
After we twist and turn through the neighborhood and reach the center of town, Pacey slows down and pulls off into a parking lot, in the far back, where he parks Minnie and then turns toward me, a huge smile on his face.
“Holy shit, Winnie. You actually did it.”
I unravel the trophy from my clutches and hold it out. “I did it.” A tear comes to my eye as I stare down at the trophy. “I freaking did it.”
Pacey wraps his arm around my shoulder and brings me closer to his chest as he presses a kiss to my head. “This was the weirdest, craziest, probably stupidest thing I’ve ever been a part of, but holy shit, Winnie, you did it. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Silently, I stare down at the trophy and think, This was for you, Mom.
“Not to push this along, but not knowing your Uncle RJ, I think it would be in our best interest to leave the area, just in case, you know, he calls the cops or something.”
“Probably best.”
“Care if I drive?” he asks.
“Not at all. My adrenaline is far too high for me to think straight and get us out of here at the moment.”
“I prefer to drive, so this works.” Pacey puts the car in drive and then places his hand on my thigh. “You’re a badass, Winnie.”
“I am,” I say with pride. I place my hand on top of his. “Thank you for coming along with me. I know this is insane, but I appreciate you being here. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it alone.”
“You would have, but I fear what you might have done when you got to the car. By the way, a few questions.”
“Shoot away.” I relax into my seat, letting my heart rate return to a normal rate.
“Your shoes. You realize you don’t have any on.”
“He made me take them off. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”
“The sign of a true robber, willing to sacrifice footwear.” I chuckle and he says, “And the whole ‘drink my breastmilk’ thing, care to comment on that?”
I smile to myself and rest my head on his shoulder. “Can’t be sure.”
“HOW ARE YOU DOING?” I ask Pacey after he extracts himself from Minnie and stretches against his shut door.
“I’m going to need a massage after this,” he answers. He lifts his arms above his head and moves side to side. I catch his shirt lifting up, showing off the waistband of his boxer briefs and his taut stomach. “And from the lustful look in your eyes, you’re in the running to give me that massage.” He grabs my hand and laces our fingers together.
“I was staring. Sorry, hard not to.”
“I know the feeling,” he says, and places a kiss on the top of my head. “Three more hours and we’re in Vancouver. Think you can make it?”
“I know I can,” I say. “The question is—can you?”
“The only thing getting me through those three hours is knowing there’s a jacuzzi tub in my apartment, calling my name.” He leans in and whispers, “And it’s big enough for two.”
Chills run down my spine as he opens the restaurant door for me. We found a simple pizza joint to stop at for dinner. It looks like a dive bar, so I’m hoping we can get in and get out.
“How do you know it’s big enough for two?” I ask.
There’s a sign at the entrance that directs us to seat ourselves, so we find a table at the back where we’ll be secluded and take a seat.
“Because that’s what the listing said when I bought the place. Haven’t tested it out with two people . . . yet.” He pulls my chair out for me and helps me sit.
When he takes a seat across from me, I ask, “So you take baths on your own?”
“Fuck yeah,” he answers. “When you train like I do, baths are your best friends, and Epsom salts.”
I don’t know why I find that so funny, but I do. A laugh escapes me and he quirks an eyebrow.
“Do you find it funny that I take baths?”
“I do.”
“Why?” He opens the menu and asks, “You good with sharing a pepperoni pizza?”
I nod and then say, “I’m just picturing this six-foot-two—”
“Three,” he corrects. “Six-foot-three.”
“Sorry—six-foot-three, intimidating man stepping into a dainty tub and listening to Enya while soaking away.”
He sets the menu down and says, “I listen to Harry Styles, not Enya, and I’m not intimidating.”
I laugh out loud. “Not with a Harry Styles playlist.”
“Hey, he has good music. I have no shame.”
The waitress stops over, and Pacey orders for us—two Diet Cokes and a medium pepperoni pizza. He goes completely undetected, the waitress barely even lifts up her head to look at us, so this was the perfect place to go. I like having these quiet moments with Pacey. Just me and him. I don’t know what the future has in store for us, or if these moments will be short-lived, but I’m going to soak it up as much as I can.
I reach across the table and move my finger over the top of his hand. “So, what you’re saying is that when we get to your place, we’re going to take a bath together?”
His eyes darken as he says, “That . . . and other things.”
My lips quirk up. “Like what? Show me around?”
“Yeah, I’ll show you around.” He leans back in his chair and rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’ll show you around my place by fucking you in every room.”
Good God.
I wasn’t aware men actually talk like this in real life, but here I am, sitting across from a dirty, dirty man. A sexy one, but dirty for sure. And I love it.
“That’s quite the invitation. Are you sure you’re not going to get sick of me?”
He lets out a sarcastic laugh and leans forward, placing both of his arms on the table. “Babe, after that blow job you gave me in the shower, pretty sure I’m addicted.” I feel my cheeks blush as he takes my hand. “But putting the physical aspect to the side, after seeing you sprint out of your uncle’s house with a trophy, shoeless, and telling him to suck your breastmilk, I’m pretty sure I won’t ever be able to let you go.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You should be scared, because who does that? Honestly, there’s crazy in me and that should terrify you.”
“Oddly, it excites me. Just tells me you’re up for anything.” He grips my hand and says, “Want to know something?”
“Always,” I answer.
“I think, from the outside looking in, someone hearing you going to your uncle’s house who you’ve never met only to take something your mom always wanted, might see it as juvenile, maybe even insane. But that’s not how I see it at all.”
“How do you see it?” I ask.
“I see someone who’s brave. Someone who loves with all their heart. And someone who wants to make a wrong a right. Was it done in grand style? No, but it still was pretty awesome to watch. It’s sexy, being with a confident woman like you, someone who’s so courageous they don’t care what other people think.” He kisses the back of my hand. “I feel lucky that you stumbled into my life.”
“Pacey,” I say softly as tears form in my eyes. “I’m the lucky one.”
He smirks. “Maybe we’re both lucky. How about that?”
“I think that’s a good compromise.”
He winks and then smooths his thumb over the back of my knuckles. “Where do you plan on burying her with the trophy?”
“There’s this hike we used to do when she needed some fresh air. It was an easy trail through Discovery Park, but it was one of her favorite things to do when she was up for it. We’d take our time, breathe in the fresh air, and admire all the beautiful foliage along the trail. Mom said she’d want her tree to be planted there.” I glance up at Pacey. “Not sure really if you’re allowed to plant anything there, but you know me—I’m a rebel now.”
He chuckles. “That you are, babe. When do you plan on doing this?”
“When I get back to Seattle. I have what I need now.”
He nods slowly. “Think I can go with you?”
Surprised, I ask, “You want to help me plant my mom’s tree?”
“I want to be there for you, Winnie. I know you’ll have Katherine and Max, but if you’re okay with it, if you wouldn’t mind me coming along, I’d just really like to be there supporting you.”
Wow. Just wow. He’s serious. He’s respectful, kind, generous, and I think he actually wants to be mine. I blink a few times and then say, “Pacey, I don’t know what to say. I’m—”
“Sorry, Winnie. I overstepped. I understand if you don’t want me there, baby. That’s fine.”
“No, you don’t understand. Pacey, that’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever offered me. Yes, you’re right, Katherine and Max would be there by my side if I asked them to be. But I’m honestly so blown away by your offer. And yes, please. I’d really love that, if you come with me.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. I love how affectionate he is. Something I also lost when Mom passed.
“So, this”—I motion between us—“this is real, then? Like . . . really real.”
“Yeah. It’s fucking real.”
And it feels like it. It feels real. More real than anything I had with Josh, and even though that was a three-year relationship, the connection I share with Pacey is more intense. There’s pride in what he feels for me, and he treats me like my mom always wished for me to be treated. And as I sit here, staring at him across the table, I know, deep in my bones, my mom would not only approve of Pacey, she’d encourage me to put away my worry and live in the moment with him.
Even though this is all so quick, so terrifying, that’s what I plan on doing. Living in the moment.
MAX: Wait, you’re going to stay with Pacey in Vancouver? For how long?
We’re an hour away from Pacey’s apartment and he’s quietly jamming to some Harry Styles, which makes me chuckle. Apparently, “Golden” is his jam. He also confessed to enjoying some One Direction songs, but he’s very particular about which ones. Not all of them, just the ones where Harry is front and center—which I tried to explain is almost all of them, but that didn’t go over well.
Winnie: Not sure. God, Max, I really like him. Is that crazy?
Katherine: Yes, it is crazy. What’s even crazier is that you’re driving across Canada with this man, and that you actually let him drive your car.
Max: You shouldn’t have texted to group chat. What were you thinking?
Winnie: That maybe Katherine has taken a valium since we spoke.
Max: I wish.
Katherine: The irresponsibility and total disregard for personal safety during this entire trip is frankly disturbing. I’m not sure I can stand to be your friend anymore if you continue to make these kinds of decisions.
Max: She doesn’t mean that. She was telling me this morning how much she misses you.
Katherine: I miss her muffins.
Max: She’s putting on a brave face.
I snort, and Pacey glances at me. “Everything okay over there?”
“Yes, sorry, was just texting with Max and Katherine. Max is obviously thrilled about my decision to stay in Vancouver for a few days—”
“More than a few days, but we won’t argue about that right now.”
I smile inwardly and continue, “But Katherine is putting up a front about wanting to divorce me as a friend for not looking out for my personal safety.”
“She’s the one who thought you were going to be abducted, right?” Pacey asks, his hand slipping from the steering wheel and back to my thigh. There’s something about a man driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his girl’s thigh that’s so . . . ugh, sexy. I can’t take it.
I also can’t take the way the lights from other cars flash through the windows, highlighting Pacey’s carved jaw, or the way the muscles in his forearm flex when he’s driving, or the scruff on his jaw from not shaving for a few days.
It makes my pulse pick up and my need for him reach crazy levels of begging. I’ve never experienced such lust. I’m insatiable and have no idea how that happened—well, that’s a lie because Pacey is a god in bed, clearly—nor that I was capable of that level of sexual attraction. My libido is through the roof. How is this me?
“Yes, Katherine is the crazy one.”
“Think she’ll ever like me?”
“Want me to ask her?” I hold up my phone.
“Yeah, I do.”
Smiling, I type away on my phone.
Winnie: Pacey wants to know if you’ll ever like him.
My phone beeps with a response right away. “That was quick,” Pacey says.
“It was from Max. He says—” I pause and laugh. “God, he’s such a horndog. He says, ‘Tell Pacey I liked him from day one and I’ll like him even more if he follows through on the whole Ian Rivers thing.’”
“Text me a picture of Max. I’ll send it over to Ian.”
“No,” I say with a shake to my head. “No way am I doing that. Max will ruin any sort of relationship you have with Ian.”
“Ahh, I don’t know. It sounds as if there could be something there.”
“What does Ian even look like?” I ask as I pull up my browser and type in his name. The first picture that comes up takes my breath away. “Oh my God.”
“He’s gay,” Pacey’s quick to say.
“I know.” I chuckle. “But, oh my God, I can understand Max’s obsession. Ian has that whole dark, bad-boy look about him. Super hot.”
“You’re going to give me a complex.”
I lean into him and press a kiss to his cheek. “Ian is hot, but you take my breath away,” I whisper.
His hand grips my thigh more tightly and he rumbles with a low growl. “I like it when you stroke my ego like that.”
“I’m sure you do.” I laugh as my phone buzzes with a text. “Oh, Katherine wrote back.”
“Give it to me. What does she have to say?”
“‘How could I possibly like someone when I’ve only experienced their character secondhand? If I intend on making any sort of judgment on the man, I need to spend at least a combined total of thirty-six hours with him, making my own assessment, and even at that, he’ll need to earn my trust through action.’”
Pacey chuckles. “Man, tough crowd. But since I seem to be falling for her best friend”—he looks at me—“then I’ll put in the time.”
I swallow hard.
Falling for . . .
Did he just say that?
I believe he did, and he said it so effortlessly. I’m pretty sure if I ever made such a confession, I would be stumbling over my words.
Not Pacey. He’s so confident, as if he knows exactly why we met. I’m still trying to figure that out, but I know I’m not going to take our time together for granted.
My phone buzzes again. “Another text,” I say, going to read it out loud. But then I see that it’s not from Max or Katherine, but rather Josh.
Panic washes over me and a thin veil of sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. “Did Katherine up her restrictions?” Pacey asks with a laugh.
But I don’t answer.
Instead, in a great panic, I read Josh’s text silently to myself.
Josh: Haven’t heard from you in a bit. I know my recent texts have caught you off guard, but I really want a chance to explain things to you. Please, Winnie. I truly believe letting you go was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. Let me prove it to you.
“Hey,” Pacey says, squeezing my leg. “Everything okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, sorry.” I awkwardly laugh. “Max just being an idiot.” The lie feels dirty rolling off my tongue, and I’m disappointed in myself for lying to Pacey. But I know if I told Pacey it was a text from Josh, he wouldn’t react well. He’s made it quite clear how he feels about Josh.
“You sure? You look like you’re a little shocked.”
I smile and set my phone down while I rest my head on his shoulder. “Max can be outrageous. He never ceases to surprise me,” I say as I stare out at the road, my throat growing tight.
Let me prove it to you.
Those six words make my stomach roll, because even though I don’t want anything to do with Josh, not after how he treated me, after how much my mom despised him, I’m still curious. Curious what he has to say.
