Page 101 of Ripped & Shipped
“Has your family said anything about us?” she asks.
“I’ve been dodging their calls.”
“Me too.” she admits. “My mom called a few times and then resorted to texting. I’m just like la, la, la, la.”
She covers her ears and squeezes her eyes shut.
“I know I have to face the music at some point,” she says. “I’m just postponing the inevitable.”
“I am too. I will face them. And they better be careful how they handle the conversation. That’s all I know.”
“I love when you get all tough and protective like that.”
“No you don’t. You usually hate it.”
“No. I hate when you’re all bossy and try to tell me how to live my adult life, as if I don’t have the sense of a common garden slug.” She spears me with a look for emphasis.
“But the way you go all protective, like you’d never let anyone near enough to hurt me? That is my kryptonite.”
Okay. That’s very good to know.
We pull in front of the house where we’ll be staying. The event this weekend is at the Anderson Pavilion, right on the river. The home we rented is a two-story, white brick house in a residential neighborhood. It has a broad front porch with a colonial front door. The photos showed a nice-sized deck off the back of the house.
I put the truck in park just as Jayme and Grant step out onto the front porch.
“Okay,” Ella Mae says, taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
CHAPTER34
Ella Mae
“Hey you two,”Grant hollers down to us from the porch. “Need help carrying anything in?”
“Got a forklift?” Chris says under his breath so only I can hear him.
Then he shouts up to Grant. “We’ve got it. Thanks.”
“Ha ha, Soldier. You’ll appreciate the outcome of my overpacking. I’ve got all the things to make heads turn as your fake girlfriend right there in those two bags.”
“You don’t need all that to make heads turn, Ella Mae.”
The words seem to slip out of his mouth without a second thought. I wonder if he realizes how much he’s complimented me today. It’s like all this faking is making him soft.
And he called me Ella Mae. As much as I love that new nickname, there’s something about the sound of my name coming out of Chris’ mouth that does things to me. It’s so intimate—caring, even.
I’ll take it—all of it. Most of the compliments I get are either from Meg, who is biased as all get out, or from my followers, who don’t really know me. Chris knows me. It’s a whole different story when he says something nice.
He lifts his duffel, and then my two suitcases, and heads up the path toward the front door with all three bags like it’s no big deal, leaving me to follow him carrying only my backpack.
Jayme pulls me into an unexpected hug when we reach the porch.
“Welcome to Chez Cincinnati! We just got here about an hour ago. We left Fiona with Hazel, so it’s just me and Grant here.”
She pulls me near after Chris and Grant walk into the house and nearly whispers, “When did this development start? I’m so intrigued—and happy, for both of you.”
“You are?” I can’t help but sound skeptical.
“Of course. I love romance—especially when the two people are the least likely candidates to fall for one another. But on second glance, you two make so much sense.”
