“About what?” Gage says as he rounds the corner. He has a bottle of wine in one hand and a book in the other. He places both of them in front of B and leans in to hug her from behind. “Picked this up on my way home from town and you left your book in my truck,” he says to her.
She practically melts as his arms cage her in, and something foreign hits me. I don’t like it one bit.
I’ve never been a lonely person. At least I never felt like I was. My family and I are extremely close, I see my friends every day, and it’s rare for me to ever be isolated in the literal sense of the word. So it’s weird that the feeling of loneliness slams to the bottom of my chest.
Realizing that I’m watching Gage with the love of his life while I sit here by myself feels like hearing a record scratch. I want what they have. That’s not something I’d like to dwell on at the moment, so I fill Gage in on the part of the conversation that he missed.
“About me and Savannah,” I say. “It’s not what you think.”
Gage and Blythe stare at me, silent. Figures they wouldn’t just change the subject after hearing that. I shift in my seat and take another bite of my cookie before explaining further.
I’ve lectured Gage about keeping things from his friends before, and Blythe is the one person in the entire world who can read me like the Sunday paper. Lying to them about it doesn’t make sense and I don’t think it would work anyway, so I blurt out the truth.
“It’s not exactlyreal,” I admit. “It’s more of an arrangement.”
Gage whistles and Blythe’s jaw about hits the floor. She gathers her composure and sits back.
“That’s . . . interesting,” Blythe says as she studies my expression with narrowed eyes. “I don’t get it. Why don’t you just date for real?”
“I tried that,” I mumble.
“Is this about the whole getting arrested thing?” Gage asks.
“Pretty much, yeah,” I say. “Henry is her boss and he put her on probation or something like that. She’s worried about losing her job and how people feel about her around here. I kind of owed it to her to help.”
“Why do you owe her?” Blythe asks, confused.
“She thought I planned it when Emma showed up on our date at the restaurant. I think it embarrassed her and I looked like an ass who was just using her, I guess. And the random kiss last weekend. I don’t know, it’s a mess honestly. I’ve been fucking up every step of the way with her.”
“That tracks,” Gage says and I clench my jaw and glare at him.
“Did you explain yourself?” Blythe asks.
“Yeah. I think we cleared things up, but she’s still hung up on the drama of it all and I feel bad about it.”
“Not to sound like a downer, but what’s in it for you?” Gage contemplates.
That makes me stop and think. At first, it was just to help her. Her boss is basically a second father to me in a way, so I have a lot of swing there. She’s been down on her luck with one thing after another lately and I honestly just felt bad for her and couldn’t help but agree to the fake dating idea.
But truthfully, I know there’s more to it. Something about Savannah Chase pulls me in like a fucking magnet. This is more than just helping her. It’s selfish on my part, too.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her. I can’t stop picturing her lips on mine. It’s been nearly impossible to drop my attempts at breaking through her stubborn exterior. There’s more to her underneath it all and I want to dig it out.
“It’s my chance to win her over,” I admit. “If it helped get Emma off my back for good, that wouldn’t hurt either.”
“Jesus, you’re whipped already,” Gage teases. “You and your sister don’t know how to rein it in when you have a crush on someone.”
Blythe scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You havenoroom to talk.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, scratching the side of my head under my hat and then pulling it back down. “I have zero control over it. I can’t stop thinking about her and after everything that’s happened, all she wants to do is chew me up and spit me out.”
“And you’d let her,” Gage laughs. He strolls around the kitchen island and stops next to me, slapping his hand twice on my shoulder before walking away. “Good luck with that.”
Savannah flips the visor down in the passenger seat, oversized sunglasses pushed to the top of her head and a tube of some sort of lipstick in her hand. The full-blast air conditioner blows her long curls back while she leans toward the mirror, applying a layer of soft glossy pink to her lips.
We’re at a stop sign on our way into town, and there’s no one behind us, so I keep the truck at a standstill while she finishes.
After rubbing her lips together in a way that makes my jeans a little tight in the crotch, she sits back in her seat and looks around in confusion.
