Alotmore palatable.
“Are you going to climb in bed with me?” he asks. “Because if youdowant a feel, I’d prefer we do it in the bigger bed. As I’ve mentioned, this bed is not of an adequate size for me, so no chance it would hold both of us.”
That snaps me out of it. “No one is climbing into bed with anyone. Don’t be stupid.”
He hums, running a hand down his chest to his stomach. I avert my gaze.
“If you say so.”
I absolutely say so.
Hustling to my bed, I burrow under the covers and turn my back to him. No more leering. No more freckles. No more laughs or smiles. No more Roman being weird, period. Just me, the wall, and a nap.
And if I dream of Roman’s freckles…
Mind your business.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Gas stations are so romantic.
Elodie
“Gas station! Gas station! Gas station!”
Rested and restored, I cheer for our road trip beginnings as we exit Bandera after a tearful goodbye during which I was made to promise that my R&R would continue—as much as possible—when I left. Keeping that promise, I start by handling the most important tool in my resting and restoring arsenal: snacks.
“You’re going to get heart disease,” Roman grumps. “And gut disease. And every other disease, probably.”
“Gas station!” I cheer. “Heart disease! Gut disease! All disease!”
He sighs. “I can’t believe you gave our road snacks to Sol.”
Heh. “Gas! Sta! Tion!”
He groans as he clicks on his turn signal on, and I buzz.
“This is a terrible idea.I’mgoing to get disease by proximity.”
“You’re going to get disease byconsumption,” I correct. “Because you, my friend, are going to experience the magic of a gas station road trip snack haul if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Friend, huh?” He parks, throwing me a look I can’t decipher.
“Are we not?” I ask. Surely after multiple nights of his freckles,just there, we are friends. A not-friend would never have put all of those…freckleson display like that. “I thought that was part of your wholething.”
“By ‘whole thing,’ you wouldn’t happen to be talking about my dedication to becoming a better, kinder, moreunderstanding, more patient, less self-righteous member of society, would you?”
“I would,” I confirm. “That comes with friendship, yeah?” At the very least, it comes with him shirtless during our every moment alone all weekend.
“You want to be my friend?”
Well… “Wantis kind of a strong word, don’t you think?”
He rolls his eyes, tugs one of my wayward curls, and gets out of the car. “We’re friends.”
I skip after him into the gas station, giddy for snacks, if not friendship. “Excellent. Then you’ll be consuming lots and lots of terrible-for-you things with me. If I see you so much aslookat a nut while we’re in here, I’m stealing your keys and stranding you. We’re here for gummy worms, soda, and Cheez-Its. No peanuts. Definitely no pistachios. I will allow sunflower seeds, but only if you get the flavored ones. And, for the love of all,do notgo near the fruit basket.”
He grunts, doing very little to convince me he’ll stay away from the slim healthy pickings provided.
