Page 29 of How You See Me
“You did not.” I nudge his arm without thinking. It’s solid, of course. And now my hand remembers how it felt to touch him.
“I did. It suits you.”
“Suits me? How?”
He shrugs. “It’s cheerful. Undeniably noticeable. I think it’s—”
His gaze locks on mine, and my heart stammers once again. “You think it’s what?”
“Beautiful.”
One word. But it lands me somewhere between wanting to swoon and needing to retreat. I stare at him, struggling to reconcile the distant, uptight side I’ve come to know since our dance with this rare tender side. The man has many layers, and I’m intrigued by them all.
“Is that your secret move to win over the ladies? Poetic compliments that stop a girl’s heart?”
“I don’t try to win over anyone.”
“That’s right. The women just come to you and puddle at your feet.”Sounds familiar, I think then toss it away. I search for lightness. “Like the swarm I stole you away from last year.”
He ignores the jab, eyeing my plate. “You barely touched your food.”
“I don’t eat much.” And he’s been very distracting.
I watch him take our plates to the kitchen and start cleaning up. At least I’ve learned during this impromptu dinner that the upcoming week of 24/7 Hayes won’t be everything I expected, making this even more dangerous.
It would be best to remember that he’s only here to provide transportation, and I don’t have space in my life for dating. But even if that wasn’t the case, men like Hayes—tried and tested warriors who could be on the cover of aHow To Be A Man Magazine—can’t be trusted with my penetrable, mushy heart.
“I’d like to change before we go,” I say to stay on task. Separately, I remind myself, despite the lengthy togetherness we’ll experience soon. “And clean up the rest of my painting mess.”
He peeks at my easel and paint supplies strewn around underneath, chest heaving. Surely, he’s fighting to suppress another round of frustration courtesy of his travel mate. “How long?”
“A few minutes, I promise. Unless you’d rather wait and leave in the morning? Get some sleep and start fresh.”
“No. I’m already three days into my leave. I can’t waste any more.”
“Okay. I understand. Can I ask how long you planned to drive tonight?”
“Six or seven hours.”
“Then what? Are we staying in hotels, the car, or tents?” That last one makes me nervous with all the creatures and bugs that could wander inside, and I wish we’d discussed this part of the plan before now.
“I have a converted van.”
“What does that mean? Like an RV?”
“Sort of. Think regular-sized van with no seats in the back. There’s a small counter with a toaster and microwave and a mattress. No air conditioning. Sorry.”
My throat goes dry again, but it isn’t fear taking hold this time. “One bed?”
“I plan to sleep in the front seat or outside.”
“That’s not fair. It’syourvan andyourtrip.”
“You’re taking the mattress.”
“What about alternating?”
“You’re not sleeping outside.”
