Page 215 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“Uh-huh.” She sounds so smug, and I want to drink in every part of her, including that smug side. “I lied, though.”
“About what?”
“I caught a glimpse of its edge kind of hiding behind your hair.”
My insides clench.
“Opposite side of mine. Interesting choice you made, Hart. Want to explain the thought behind it?”
My eyes darken. “You know why.”
“I do now. But I didn’t understand when I first saw it. Knowing you got it, but also knowing how much you hated me.”
“I never hated you.” I want to reach across the truck and take her hand, but I can’t when it’s this fresh—when we’re this fresh.
We sit for a minute of silence, appreciating the steps we’ve taken to overcome out past.
“You got the book.” I nod at it sitting on her lap. “Open it up and pick an item so I can figure out where I’m headin’. You know, since you have a secret tattoo, I pride myself on seeing one day.”
She snorts, opening the book. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“It ain’t hard with the looks you’re flashing at me.”
She blushes, and I love bringing that color up her neck.
I nod at the book. “Pick an item.”
The pages flip. Her fingers scan the drawings and doodles—another flip.
It’s almost like it’s the first time she’s been alone with it. And that feeling I used to get watching her with our bucket listtrickles its way inside me. It’s a familiar warmth, like the world’s a little smaller and simpler when it’s just us.
I love it.
Her lips lift into a slow smile. “Found one.”
“Alright.”
“Alright.” Her smile is infectious, but she says nothing.
I chuckle. “Are you gonna tell me?”
She nods, but again, nothing comes out.
“And?” I pry.
“You’re not going to like it.” She tilts the partially closed book so I can’t see.
“Is that why you’re picking it?”
“Maybe.”
I grunt. “Out with it.”
“The Ferris wheel.”
Shit.
“Remember the day we agreed on it?”
