The muscles in his back shifted, but that was the only indicator he’d registered her presence. “Good. You’re here.”
“Yeah. Because I didn’t figure you were going to swing by to pick me up.”
He turned around. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“How were you going to do that? You don’t know where I’m staying. I’m not with Elysia.”
“I actually know that.”
She stared at him. “How do you know that?”
“Because I listen to gossip about town, Samantha.” He rested his hands on the edge of the car, arms straight, and leaned against it. “As you should know.”
“You’re a liar,” she said. “I don’t think you do.”
“You’re a hot topic. Your apparent separation is much talked about by my customers. Amy Callahan came in. She let me know that you were renting from her. Asked if I knew anything about what happened between you and Will.”
“Youtoldher?”
His expression went bland. “That I don’t know a thing.”
She hadn’t expected him to…lie. Not for her. Unless it was for Will. Will did sound like a dick in this scenario. She almost thanked him. Then decided…no.
“Wow,” she said. “And yet you couldn’t text me back.”
“I didn’t have anything to say. But we have an agreement. So I expected that you would come with me on this trip.”
“You just couldn’t be bothered to speak to me for two weeks.”
His mouth settled into a firm line. “I thought space was in order.”
Oh for God’s sake. Space followed by time spent shut in a car together. That was such a male, not-thought-through bit of rationale.
“Look who’s in denial now,” she said. “I made a mistake. I can own up to that. I screwed up. I wasn’t trying to use you, and I didn’t do a good enough job of making that clear. I couldn’t think fast enough in the moment, and I wasn’t…in the right headspace for the turn the conversation took. But I was never using you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m not apologizing for the actual kiss, though. Because I don’t regret it. I needed to kiss you. I’m sorry if you thought I used you, and that hurt you. But I’m not sorry that I did it.”
“So not sorry at all,” he said.
“No, I am. About some things. Just notthatthing.”
“Let’s get in the car then.”
She slid into the passenger’s seat and immediately ran her fingers along the shiny wood dashboard. “Wow,” she said.
“It’s a 1954 Rolls-Royce,” he said, gripping the black steering wheel with one hand as he turned the key in the ignition with the other. “I hate to let this one go. But I’m not sorry I get to drive it across the country.”
“Where’s the final destination this time?”
“Miami.”
“Miami! You didn’t think to mention we were going to Florida?”
“We weren’t speaking.”
“Youweren’t speaking, asshole.”
