Page 93 of No Interest in Love

“You’re not Miss Unlikely anymore,” I say, bringing our hands up to my mouth. “Your character description has been revised.” I press kisses along her knuckles, then playfully bite her thumb. She grins and does the same to me.

“Can I pick my name? Miss Awesome. Or Miss Great in Bed. Or Miss Always Right.”

“How about Miss End Game?”

Her adorably wide eyes smile without her mouth making the movement. “For the week?” she asks, and I shake my head. Her lips curl up against the back of my hand. “Does this mean you think this’ll last?”

Yeah, I think this’ll last. I sure as hell want it to.

“Man, I hope so.”

Monday

(A Few Months Later)

4:45P.M.

Shay

The thing is huge.

Probably could hold three or four duplicates of my car.

Or more accurately, my old car, since I just dropped it off to the new owners. They live right next to Jace’s grandma…right next to the nice house he bought for her.

After landing that contract, he took his advance and dropped it on the house. Grandma cried, gave me a hug, and told me she was so grateful to me for being so on top of things (which was more than I got from my own parents).

When we left, Jace was really quiet, and that wasn’t like him at all.

“I’m not sure if I should ask you what’s wrong, or if I should take advantage of the silence,” I said with a laugh as we went down the front-porch stairs. His hand twitched in mine, and suddenly he was wrapping me up in a hug so tight I had to tap on his back a little so I could catch my breath.

“I never thought I’d be able to do that,” he said. “I always wanted to, but never really thought that…”

He laughed. Picked me up. Swung me around. Laughing and laughing, which had me laughing. Then he put me down on my feet, stared right into my eyes, and said, “Thank you.”

My heart gave out. It was the first time I’d felt truly appreciated for the work I’d done. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to my level. Our lips touched, our tongues tangled, and we moved the party back to his place. We had some wicked sex that night because, let’s be honest, when your very cocky and sexy boyfriend does something so freaking selfless and sweet, you just want to ride him until you can’t see straight anymore.

That was probably the night it happened, now that I think about it…

I take a deep breath, biting my lip and staring at what I think is the passenger door but looks more like a bus’s opening than a car’s. My new place. My first place with a boyfriend. My first-ever motor home experience.

I don’t know if I can breathe.

A nudge to my ankle tears my eyes away from the nerve-racking, life-altering conversation I’m about to have and to the scrappy-looking rescue pup I’ve got attached to the leash around my wrist.

“Yep, that’s it,” I tell him. When Jace told me he wanted to buy a motor home, I thought he was nuts. But then he said something that he probably didn’t realize was so sweet at the time. He told me that he’s become a big fan of road trips. And I know it’s stupid and forward and arrogant to think that maybeIhave something to do with that, but I think it anyway.

The rescue puppy brushes his fuzzy head against my leg and whines a little. “Shh,” I console him. “You gotta be quiet because you’re a surprise.” I take another deep breath, finally finding air again. “One of many.”

I straighten my shoulders and step forward, pushing my bag around so it doesn’t fall off my shoulder as I hike up the humongous steps to get into the motor home. When Jace bought it, he asked if he should get me a carabiner so I could climb in and out of it every day. I proved him wrong by bouncing up the steep steps all by myself. But I never considered that I’d be sporting a large belly anytime soon, and in nine months I’ll need a forklift.

The scrappy puppy stays close to my ankles, sniffing around the motor home floor. Jace unpacked my things. The whole front area, which includes a couch, a table, and a kitchen, was piled with boxes this morning, but it’s clean now. He’s even put up a selfie of us that we took his first day of shooting. He’s kissing my neck and I’m laughing and scolding him to smile. I love that picture.

A wave of nausea hits me out ofnowhere,and I rush to the sink, clutching the edge of the counter. I take calculated inhales and exhales, trying to relax the sudden roll of my stomach. I wasn’t able to stop the puke early this morning—like, way early. It was 3A.M.when Jace found me curled up in the bathroom and telling him to just let me die.

But as I breathe deep, the nausea slowly dissipates, and I notice a lovely sheen of sweat has glossed over my forehead. I take a rag and wipe myself off, and a bigclangmakes me jump.

“No!” I whisper-scold the puppy as he pushes his nose into the pots and pans cupboard.

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