Page 169 of Story of My Life
“The guy I’ve been sleeping with just tucked in his cows and donkey for the night. Sometimes I think I’m having one long fever dream and I’m going to wake up in Manhattan.”
“Is that what you want?” I gestured for her to resume our drive.
“Right now, I’m more interested in kicking Dominion’s ass,” she said.
I directed her west, into the sun. “Gage’s place is over the hill that way. He renovated an old barn and turned it into a house.”
“A literal barn? Well, there goes my diabolical plan of fixing him up with Zoey so she’s forced to move here permanently.”
I rolled my eyes. She was supposed to be thinking about lettingmeback into her bed, not maneuvering her friend into my brother’s. To remind her of this, I casually draped my free arm over her shoulders. She jerked the wheel at my touch, bouncing us off the trail before overcorrecting and swerving back in the opposite direction.
“Why are you and I the only ones on this driving tour?” she asked, as my bones rattled over a rut.
“Mom has her reasons. Not that she’d share them with anyone. Pretty sure she knows about us.”
“First Levi and now your mom? Does this mean our past indiscretions are going to be all over town by morning?”
“First of all, no one said we’re done indiscretioning,” I shot back.
“My editor would call you out on that word.”
“Secondly, there’s a difference between family gossip and town gossip. Are we going back in there to everyone knowing we’ve been having sex? Absolutely. But they’re not gonna go running their mouths around town.”
“Why aren’t you more upset? You’re the one who didn’t want anyone to know about us, yet you’re sitting there frowning your usual amount.”
“Maybe I’ve reconsidered.”
“Maybe?” She looked at me as we crested a low hill, pastures rolling out on both sides of us.
I grabbed for the “oh shit” handle a second before Hazel plowed into a pothole the size of a car.
“You don’t have to steer into every single rut you see,” I told her.
“I can’t talk and drive at the same time. There’s too much to concentrate on.”
“If you can write with a houseful of construction noise, you can drive and talk.”
“Why did you maybe reconsider?” she asked, swerving hard to avoid another bump.
“I don’t know, and I don’t really care to get introspective about it. I like what we were doing. Maybe when I saw you out in public, laughing with my assface brother, I thought that looked like a good time too.”
“You acted like an idiot,” she pointed out.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if flowers, an impromptu make-out session, and a tour of your petting zoo are enough to get back into my good graces. And even if they were, I don’t know if I’m ready for something more public.”
“Hazel, we’re adults having a good time. Sometimes you just have to say, ‘Fuck it.’” I didn’t know why I was pushing for this. Why I wanted to be the one taking her out on the town, sharing drinks and secrets. But there wasn’t much point in dissecting it. I wanted it, so I was going after it.
“And by ‘it,’ you mean you.”
I flashed her a cocky grin before turning her chin to look forward at the trail. “If you’re looking for poetry and romance, you’re with the wrong guy.”
“I write romance all day long. What I need is a man who isn’t going to throw a temper tantrum every time I do something he doesn’t appreciate.”
“I’ll keep the temper tantrums to a minimum as long as you communicate better.”
“I cannot believe you of all people think I’m bad at communicating,” she complained.
