Page 55 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

It took fifteen minutes to get her off the phone after we’d come to the conclusion that I’d need to go in person to approve the bouquets. Something had happened with the original shipment, and that meant a new headache for me—and her.

When she hung up, I received another call—this time from the venue we’d booked. So it wasn’t like I could ignore it. This one took even longer. Nearly half an hour. By the time I returned to my car and the blond I’d left inside it, I felt wrung out.

“Sorry,” I apologized, slipping into the driver’s side. I was relieved to feel the blast of AC—especially because that meant George hadn’t been in here roasting. “We had a problem with an overbooking issue, and I—you know what? It doesn’t matter. I fixed it. I’ll need to go into the city to deal with the florist, which again, I apologize for. It’s a last-minute…uh.” I stopped talking when I saw George’s face.

He didn’t look annoyed.

He looked sleepy.

Like he’d been out here napping. Maybe his night had been as sleepless as mine? I grinned, unable to help myself.

Thatwas a new face.

I’d never seen him relaxed. It felt like disturbing a tired kitty, all comfortable and safe. I wished I could go back in time. Wished I could enter the car quieter, so I could let him nap longer. That or pull out my phone and snap a picture. I got the feeling George-Arthur Milton didn’t let his guard down often, if ever.

“How far are we?” George asked, voice huskier than before. He was trying to pretend like I hadn’t caught him napping.

So cute.

Fuck.

“From the campgrounds?” I clarified. Now that we’d been honest with one another, things were…easy. Effortless. I didn’t overanalyze why that was. Or why even though he’d refused my offer I still felt hopeful.

It felt weird to talk to him without flirting or arguing. But it was nice too. The underlying electricity between us was still there—no doubt the sexual chemistry that June had called us out for, but…it was softer somehow.

George nodded slowly. A lock of blond hair fell onto his forehead, the wavy strand sticking to his skin. I had to squeeze the steering wheel tight so I could resist the urge to reach over and tuck it back into place.

“Not long. But…I’ve got a few things I have to do before we head up, if you don’t mind tagging along,” I added. “That was what I was on the phone about.”

“Do what you must,” George sighed, in the most dramatic way possible, eyes drifting shut.

His peace didn’t last.

Unfortunately for both of us.

His phone buzzed, and he frowned, pulling it out of his pocket with a couple dazed blinks. He sobered quickly, his entire body going rigid. The air in the car felt colder as George’s good mood disappeared. There was a haunted look about him as his lips pressed into a thin, wobbly line, his body curling in tightly, as small as he could make it.

Like he hoped to disappear.

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t have any right to be nosy. But…fuck. He’d lost all the color in his cheeks in a matter of seconds. I wanted to fix it. Ineededto fix it.

“It’s nothing.” George’s tone was biting. The screen on his phone went black. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okaayyy.” I didn’t press, even though I wanted to. Maybe the text had something to do with the ex he’d mentioned? The one he’d said wasn’t open with affection.

Was that George’s way of calling him a dick?

Why didn’t he just outright say it?

He’d called me that yesterday.

George didn’t speak for an entire minute.

And it was the most excruciating minute of my life—second only to the minute I’d had to wait for him to accept my pickle-apology.

I didn’t dare pull out onto the road. I could tell he wasn’t done yet. And that he might—possibly—need more support.

I’d always had a talent for reading people. It was what made me good at my job. And it was also why I knew how unpalatable I was. The look in people’s eyes when I did something “too much” was telling enough, even without them having to outright say.

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