Curiosity seeps into his gaze. “Shoot.”
“And answer me truthfully, please. You owe me. Again.”
The smirk falters and he nods seriously, pushing his hair back. Now is the wrong time to notice his arm flexed taut under the white sleeve of his shirt.
“At the tailgate party, you made sure everyone found out who my dad is. And at Honky Tonk Central, you were asking me questions youknewI didn’t want to answer,” I start, arms still crossed. “So, tell me – are you just an asshole or, mayor’s son, are you trying to put the attention on someone other than yourself for once?”
“Don’t curse outside church,” he says with a disapproving shake of his head.
“Blake,” I say sternly. I’m not in the mood for games.
He surveys the assortment of waiting vehicles over my shoulder. “Where’s your family?”
“They left. I’m going to ask Savannah for a ride home,” I say flatly. His distraction techniques aren’t the most advanced. “Just answer my—”
“Do you trust me?” he cuts in, dropping his hand from tugging agitatedly at the back of his hair.
“No.”
He smiles knowingly, as though he didn’t expect anything less of my reply.
“Let me take you home instead,” he says. “But later. After you come back to my place.”
“What?” I blink at him, completely taken aback. Go back to his place? Did he totally miss me telling him off right now? I’m not trying to hang out. I’m trying to get a straight answer – to understand what game he’s playing. “I’m going home. Sheri has lunch on the stove, and also – oh, yeah – why would I ever go anywhere with you again?”
“Because let’s not have this discussion here,” he says. “No funny business, I swear. Just lunch, and then I’ll answer your questiontruthfully.”
I study his expression, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes. He doesn’t look away, only lets his gaze bore back into mine, letting me scrutinize him. However much I hate to admit it to myself, he seems genuine. Like the same easygoing Blake who grossly chewed that quesadilla at the honky tonk.
“Fine,” I say with a disgruntled huff, trying to ignore that little voice in the back of my mind telling me that this is a stupid idea. Wasn’t Wednesday night already Blake’s second chance? Am I technically giving him a third right now?
“Let’s go,” Blake says with that annoying dimpled grin.
I hesitate slightly – but if the only way he will give me an honest answer is to go back to his place, then so be it. I just pray this doesn’t blow up in my face. . . again.
“Are you sure your mom won’t object?” I ask. In the back of my mind, I wonder if Sheri will be okay with this. I didn’t bring my phone along to the service with me, but shedidsay it was fine for me to catch a ride home later. Even if later means missing lunch at the ranch.
“Let’s find out,” Blake says.
We weave back through the mingling churchgoers toward Mayor Avery. She’s engaged in chit-chat with one of the church elders, enthusiastically nodding while the gracious smile on her face never fades. Something about it makes me suspect it’s forced.
I spot Savannah for the first time, expression blank as her parents talk to others. She catches my eye and gives me a friendly wave, but her hand suspends mid-air when she realizes I’m with her cousin. Her pleasant smile transforms into a suggestive smirk, and when she winks, I have to look away before I blush. Do she and Tori really think Blake and I have something going on? Because no, no,no.No way.
But then why exactly am I following him over to Mayor Avery to check if it’s okay if I gatecrash their Sunday lunch?
My palms feel clammy as we reach LeAnne, but Blake knows better than to interrupt when she’s mid-conversation, so we wait patiently alongside her; me staring at the scalding concrete and Blake staring at me. I pretend not to notice.
LeAnne says goodbye to the church elder with lots of pleasantries, then turns to her son, seemingly surprised to find him back by her side already. “That was quick,” she comments. “I’m done here. Let’s make a move.”
“Can Mila come back with us?” Blake asks, sounding like a five-year-old, the words falling from his lips in a quick jumble. He seems a bit nervous, though I wouldn’t have pegged Blake as someone to get anxious around his mother, even if she is the mayor.
LeAnne seems caught off guard by the on-the-spot question. She regards me carefully as though she is determining whether or not I am worthy of entering their home. “Of course,” she says, but her tone comes across with a degree of caution. “There’s plenty food because Blake here tends to guzzle down the contents of the fridge as though he’s been starved for years.” She squeezes Blake’s shoulder and smiles at him in a way that never really reaches her eyes.
Blake doesn’t return the smile, just shakes her hand off his shoulder. “I’m parked over here, Mila,” he says.
As the three of us head over to Blake’s truck, I can’t help but keep glancing at LeAnne out of the corner of my eye. Her stride is confident and purposeful, the same as Blake’s.
We climb into his truck – me in the backseat, of course – and he blasts the AC as his Spotify library comes to life. We get going, pulling away from the church and onto Fairview Boulevard.
