“You have to be the best actor in history. That kiss felt more real than any . . . real one. I mean, I also tried to act it out well, but you are the clear master.”
I feel my stomach drop. She was acting! The single best kiss of my life was only an act.
Stupid me. Of course it was an act. That’s what she signed up for.
I force an awkward laugh. “Thanks. When all this is over, you can send me the gold statue in the mail.”
Evie chuckles. “You got it.”
But she’s not looking at me. Something monumental just happened that neither one of us can explain.
She eyes my phone. “Think that was a bit much to send to your mom?”
“We could do it again.”
Evie blushes, remaining silent.
I can take a hint. “This will do fine.” I send it off to my mother, hoping we’ll have another chance to practice kissing like lovers. Very, very soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Evie
Ilace up my running shoes, my heart pounding with excess stamina. It’s a beautiful afternoon, the late-day chill perfect for a run as I step out onto the quiet street.
Adam suggested I stay at his place until the wedding. It would give us a chance to learn each other’s habits and prepare for the onslaught of questions sure to come our way. He’ll make arrangements to retrieve my bags from the hotel in Merced.
For a moment, I thought he was looking for excuses to spend more time together. Then he reminded me that the bride is a federal officer.
“We need to keep our stories straight in case we’re cornered separately,” he’d said.
He made it sound like a police interrogation.
“Are we crime suspects?” I quipped, giving myself a mental slap. No one my age would ever jump to my ridiculous conclusion. I’mmany years older than Adam. He could be with a woman twenty years my junior.
And yet, with age comes honed intuition.
Unless I’m going crazy—which given my recent choices is a distinct possibility—there’s a genuine and intense attraction, from both sides.
Things with Adam are becoming confusing. I need to recalibrate which is why I decided to go for a run.
At first, the rhythmic slapping of my feet against the pavement helps clear my mind. But as I find my stride, my thoughts drift back to the electrifying kiss.
The memory plays on a loop, each detail vividly etched in my brain. The way his lips brushed against mine, the warmth of his touch, and the overwhelming surge of emotions that coursed through my veins. It was a moment that took me by surprise, leaving me breathless and craving more.
I spend the hour-long run consumed by swirling thoughts and unanswered questions. So much for clearing my mind.
Exhausted and sweaty, I return to the house, my body screaming with both fatigue and exhilaration. I notice the empty driveway. Adam’s car is gone and the Porsche is still at The Rocky Roastery.
I knock. When no one answers, I let myself in with the code Adam gave me. I pass through the foyer and down the hall, neither seeing nor hearing Adam. He must be out on an errand. Good thing, as I need a shower desperately.
In my room, I reach for my phone, intending to check for any missed calls or messages. But as I press the power button, the screen remains dark and lifeless.
Plugging it into the charger, I wait anxiously for it to come back to life. After several minutes, it’s still dead. A bolt of panic fills me.
I’m alone in the wilderness with no cell signal. The likelihood of a house phone is slim. No one Adam’s age bothers with landlines. I never thought to ask him how to log in to his Wi-Fi so I can’t access email either.
Any lingering benefits from the run vanish as I realize if something were to happen to me, no one would ever know.