“Jesus Christ, always so goddamn stubborn. Stop actin’ likeafeckin’ child and get in.”
Patrick reached around me to pull at the handle, holdingthe door open until I begrudgingly got inside the cab, and he slammed it shut.I sat there, biting my lip, while I waited for him to get in. The key slippedinto the ignition, and he held it there for a moment before turning to me.
“Okay, listen. I have a proposal to make.”
I slowly turned my head against the headrest to find himlooking at me with … With, what? Longing? Desperation? Guilt?
“I’m not marrying you, Patrick.” I sounded exhausted. I wasalways so exhausted, waking up at five every morning. Making sandwiches. Swimmingin my regret. Running my heart away from him. So exhausted.
He laughed. God, that laugh—throaty, deep, as though itcame from his soul. “I’m notaskin’yato marry me again, Kinsey,” he said, shaking his head. “Yet.”
Cocky Irish bastard.
“Then, what?”
“I’maskin’yato give me tonight.”
“Give you … tonight?”
He nodded confirmation. “Tonight.”
“I don’t get it.”
The first time Patrick Kinney had held my hand, he made areal show of it. The whole inch-by-inch thing until his pinkie rested tensely overmine, before he nervously swallowed my palm in his. But this time, he snatchedmy hand from my lap, surprising my eyes to snap wide open as he pulled it tohis chest, holding it over his heart. I wondered when his muscles had gotten sohard. I wondered when I had stopped breathing.
“This might be stupid, but hear me out.”
“If it’s coming from you, it’s automatically stupid.”
But I didn’t attempt to pull my hand away, as his thumbbegan drawing little circles into my palm. He smiled, sensing that my wallswere going to eventually crumble.
“I have the day off tomorrow, and I know you do, too; Iasked your mom earlier.”
“What else did you say to my mom?”
He raised his hand and pressed a finger to my lips,shushing me. “Stay with me tonight. The whole night.”
He removed the finger, and my mouth fell open. I was nevernaive, but I had certainly fallen face first into that trap. The dinner, theswings … Suddenly, I saw where his plan was headed, and I could feel the oldblanket against my back.
“Patrick, I’m not sleeping with—”
Those eyes widened in shock at the insinuation, but Ididn’t miss the hopeful sparkle dancing in the blue-green mosaic of his irises.“I’m notaskin’ for sex, Kinsey, and when we get tomy place, I’ll sleep on the couch or in Meghan’s room. That’s fine. Ijust—"
“Yourplace?” My voice rang in my ears.
“God, Kinsey.” He pinched his eyes shut. “I just need onenight, okay? Please.”
“One night for what?” Christ almighty, talking to him wastiring.
Eyes still closed, he said, “I need one night to turn thisaround, to make shite better between us. If I can’t do that, then I’ll be outof your hair. I’ll leave.”
“You’ll …leave? Like, you’ll leave me alone?”
He opened his eyes again, but they stared sidelong at theglowing dashboard. “No, I mean, I’ll leave River Canyon.”
Leave River Canyon.
I found my heartbeat thumping a death march somewhere in mythroat. “Why would you do that?”
