Page 81 of My Merry Mistake
“Sure.” It feels like a win.
She turns to face me, mouth in a tight line. “I’d like to know the plan.”
“A plan sounds like a good idea.”
She stares at me blankly. “So . . . what is it?”
“Ooh,” I suck in a breath through my teeth, “I don’t have a plan.”
Her eyebrow quirks. “You said you had an idea of where we were going . . .”
“Right.”
“So tell me,” she says.
“No.” I shove my hands in my pockets.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a surprise.” Also because I actually have about four ideas and I haven’t decided where I want to take her. Thought I’d play it by ear. I have a feeling she’s never done that before. It would probably also shock her to learn that’s how I ended up at her house.
I was driving home from practice, determined not to bug her, when I remembered that’s not my style. If I’m going to show up for her, I’m going to show up—whether she wants me to or not.
“I hate surprises,” she says.
“Shocker.”
She shakes her head, clearly irritated, and opens the door to the garage. “Normally, I’d walk, but since you didn’t wear a coat . . .” She looks at me. “I’ll drive.”
She slings a bag over her shoulder, and I follow her into the garage. She’s wearing jeans, a red sweater, and a pair of brown boots. She looks adorable.
Casual looks good on her. Better than office clothes, for sure. Makes her seem more approachable, even though she’s still a little standoffish.
The night I met her, she was more open than she’s ever been since, but I blame that on the alcohol. It went right to her head, which is the only reason I know she got fired. The only reason I know the guy she’d dated for years had gotten engaged to someone else. And the only reason I know that behind her tough exterior, Raya feels everything.
I don’t think many people realize that.
We get into her car, and some talk radio show comes on. I immediately reach for the knob, and she smacks my hand. “My car. My music.”
I groan. But then she puts on an eighties station, and I grin. “Solid choice. I wouldn’t have guessed Bon Jovi.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I’m guessing not a ton of people do.” I mean for the words to come out playful, but there’s a weight to them I didn’t intend. I see it when I glance over and find her watching me. Her brow is knit tight, and there’s confusion behind her eyes. And something in the air shifts.
I don’t dare look away, but I can’t read her expression.
She snaps her eyes to the mirror, puts the car in reverse and backs out.
“Finn, I think we need to be clear on something,” she says purposefully, eyes on the road.
“Okay . . .” I feel like I was just caught texting in class.
“I want to make sure we’re on the same page.” A quick glance at me. “I’m dating Justin, but even if I wasn’t—you and I are not, you know, compatible.”
Yep. This isn’t going to be easy.
“So you’ve said—on multiple occasions.”
