Page 46 of How You See Me
“Are you sure? You’re flushed.”
That’s because you’re sitting there all serious and broody and perfect—
My hand taps against my cheek, knocking that thought loose. “It’s just the heat.”
The answer seems to satisfy him, and I spend the rest of the ride staring out the open window, pretending it’s the scenery that has me breathless and not the man taking up most the seat and the oxygen.
???
“Do you have a destination in mind for our next stop,” I ask Hayes on our way to the parking lot. The silence felt like a thousand itchy mosquito bites, and I desperately wanted the torture to end. “Or will we ride until we get tired tonight?”
“Nashville’s only a few hours from here.”
My hands clasp together, excitement resurging. “Are you wanting more country music fun?”
“I don’t know what I want, but I know it isn’t that.”
“Really? Sounds to me like you want to wear a cowboy hat and go line dancing.” Although, can I handle seeing sexy cowboy Hayes, turning his body loose on a dance floor? Probably not, but I’m willing to test my limits with this one.
“One hundred percentnot sayingthat.”
“Maybe we should see where the night takes us.” I wink, then realize how flirty that sounded. “In Nashville. Not like . . . together. I mean, yes together, but not . . . you know.”
“I got it.”
“Speaking of bedroom activities—”
He stops instantly. “No one mentioned that.”
“Well, Ikind ofdid.”
“No. Youkind ofimplied it. Huge difference.”
“Semantics.” We continue walking, the van now in view. “Anyway, I was going to say the mattress is yours tonight.”
“Nope.”
“Hayes, I refuse to let you do all the sacrificing on this trip.”
He opens the passenger side door and leans against it, hand resting on top, gaze locked on mine. It’s intense. Dark. Daring. And not in the rollercoaster way.
“Guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”
My breath catches. No, he didn't. “You can’t use that line after scolding me for it.”
He grins—barely, but it’s there—and my insides go full sparkler.
I climb into the seat, fanning my face once the door shuts. I need a shower. A very cold shower. My hands drop into my lap when he reappears and climbs in.
“Want to stop for dinner or eat when weget there?” he asks.
“We have plenty of snacks to get us by. Let’s get to Nashville and find a good honky-tonk for dinner.”
His hand freezes on the key in the ignition. “Seriously? A honky-tonk?”
“I already told you. Line dancing, cold beer, cowboy hats. Ringing any bells?”
“I’m not doing two of those things.” The engine roars to life like a mic drop.
