Chapter Twenty-Three
Luke
Hickory smoke hangs thick in the air as a three-man band plays a folksy cover of a famous country song in the corner.
I consume the last shreds of brisket on my plate. Picnic tables force the billion other people also eating here tonight to cram into family-style seating. Those who aren’t sitting are on the small dance floor, cutting it up.
The sooner we get out of here the better. I’ve got some serious miles to cover tonight if we’re ever going to put an end to this trip.
After disappearing for over ten minutes, Cassidy returns from the buffet with two bowls of banana pudding and one large Styrofoam cup.
“The owner makes his own peach moonshine.” She drops into the sliver of open real estate next to me. Her thigh butts up against mine.
My leg is too aware of the contact. “That explains your long absence. You made another friend.”
“His name is Wayne. He calls his moonshine side-hustle Wayne or Shine. Isn’t that the most incredible name you’ve ever heard?”
“Brilliant. And you paid for this?” I pick up her cup and inhale. “Fuck, that’s strong.”
“It was free if you can believe it. I think Wayne may have been trying to adopt me. He kept offering me jugs of the stuff.”
“Adopt you. Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it was.” I rub my eyes. What must it be like to be so blissfully unaware of the effect you have on other people?
“I can sense you’re ready to go. I don’t intend to drink an entire twelve-ounce cup of moonshine. Don’t worry. We’ll leave as soon as we finish dessert.”
I inhale my banana pudding.
Naturally, she drags her spoon down her tongue, eating it in the most seductive fucking way imaginable.
I wish she hadn’t taken what I told her in the car so well. It’s not that I expected her to argue the point—more that I thought it would feel final. A closing statement on the topic of us.
There’s nothing final about the way that conversation ended.
Our phone buzzes in my pocket. A welcome distraction.
Hey, Cass—what’s Will’s number? I want to make sure I can get in touch with someone if something happens to your burner phone.
“Interesting.”
Cass eyes the phone. “What?”
“Berkeley wants Will’s number.”
She chokes on a bite of pudding and washes it down with a swig of moonshine. “Impossible. Berkeley would never.”
I narrow my eyes. “She wasn’t asking like that. It’s for safety in case we fall off the grid.”
“Oh. Well, give it to her.”
I fire off the text and shoot her a side-eye. “Why is it so ridiculous that she’d want his number? Will is a good-looking guy. Funny. Charismatic. Athletic.”
“Damn, just my type. Is he single?” She takes another sip, eyes flashing danger over the rim of her cup.
Blood thunders in my veins. The question makes me want to rip the table in half. “Sure is. A shame you’re already bringing Berkeley to the wedding.”
“Maybe I get a plus-two.” She taps her spoon on the edge of the bowl. “Berkeley doesn’t date. She had a messy divorce. Actively hates most men and the concept of love. It’ll probably pass. She recently banged the same guy twice. Growth.”
“She hates love and you’re bringing her to a wedding?”
“Yup. She’s coming for me.” Another sip. “Not that I couldn’t get a date if I wanted one.”
I down a huge bite of dessert. “You date a lot?”
“Define a lot.”
Sitting side-by-side gives me the permission I need not to look at her. And yet I can’t stop. I now know exactly how the shadows play on her face in the low light of this place. “When was your last relationship, for how long, etcetera?”
“One serious relationship. Adam. We dated for a year after I moved to Asheville. Ended about as well as any other relationship that ends. Before him, my college boyfriend and I dated for four years.”
I scratch my chin. “Interesting.”
“Excuse you. Two is a respectable number. What, did you rack up a ton of relationships before you swore them off?”
“I’ve had one. She fucked my coworker in our bed and then blamed me for it. Said no woman would ever love me so long as I was bankrolling and enabling my family. Before her—well. Not much to report.”
Her mouth hangs open.
I run my thumb down a groove in the wooden table. “So yeah, I wasn’t judging.”
She takes another gulp of Wayne’s concoction and sets it on the table with force. “My ex was seeing other women the whole time I thought we were exclusive. My college boyfriend never told me he loved me in four years.”
Assholes. The both of them. It is unfathomable that anyone could have full access to this woman and want anything else.
“And in high school, I couldn’t date.”
I frown. “Like you weren’t allowed?”
Swirling her cup, she sighs. “I would’ve been allowed. It’s just hard to date when your sister is Lady God’s gift to humanity. If you were to see her, you’d understand. In high school, she was continually approached by casting agents for television—that’s how good looking she is. Sure, it’s L.A., so they basically slink around high school hangouts like weirdos, but how many people can say they were courted by agents?”
“Your sister being headhunted by weirdos means you couldn’t date?”
She leans into me enough that the hairs on my arms take notice. “Scenario: you bring a girl home to the house you hypothetically share with Will, in all his hunky, funny, charismatic glory—”
“You’re officially never meeting Will in person.”
“—and she spends the whole night talking to him, fawning over him, maybe even sneaks into his room. Doesn’t feel great, right? Multiply that by, oh, I don’t know, a thousand. That was what it was like trying to date with Isabelle Bliss as your sister.”
“I have trouble believing that.”
“Believe it, okay? It happened so many times I gave up. It’s happened my entire life, and not just in dating. In every arena, she wins. And you know what? She deserves to. Isabelle is smart and talented. She’s a goddamn delight.”
She sucks in a breath and presses her lips shut.
Color creeps across her cheeks as she tries to stand. “Okay, that’s quite enough sharing—”
“Wait.” I stop her with a hand on her knee.
Her body falls back into the seat. “What?”
“You’re a goddamn delight, Cassidy.”
She immediately shakes her head and tries to look away. Tries to dismiss it before it’s even out of my mouth. I guide her back with a thumb and forefinger to her chin. “If you’d looked my way in high school, I sure as fuck would’ve been looking back. Any guy who had a chance with you and then waltzed over to your sister’s room or whatever the fuck they did made a massive mistake. I guarantee they know that now. Anyone who doesn’t see how incredible you are doesn’t deserve your kindness. Believe me, it’s their loss. And I’m not just talking about back then. Got it?”
Surprise, and then something infinitely more tender, plays out in her eyes, and that punches me hard between the ribs.
The three-man band strikes a harmony as Cassidy leans in.
It’s a fast tap of her lips, a barely there kiss.
Even that featherlight touch is too much for my fragile resistance.
She pulls back, agape. “I didn’t think it through, it was—”
I squeeze the knee I’m still holding as I lunge for her mouth. Her lips part for me, soft and eager. She tastes like peach moonshine and banana. Pure sweetness. I’m fucked for bananas—I’ll never be able to eat another one again without craving the slide of her tongue.
The hand not gripping her knee moves behind her head, pulling her in harder. Claiming her. Keeping her while I can. My fingers thread her hair as her hand cups the side of my neck.
This is when the kiss should end.
My palm skates up her thigh. I want to haul her in my lap and wrap my arms around her waist. Fuck, I want to hold her. I want to push the limits of public decency.
Our mouths break apart, and her fingers brush my cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything you said.”
My heart riots.
The song comes to an end, and she pulls back. “That was a thank-you kiss.”
A thank-you kiss.
I’m still trying to turn myself right-side-up when she stacks our trays and climbs out of the table without another word.
…
“I’m screwed.”
My declaration is louder than I intend, which would bother me if I gave even a single fuck about what the two a.m. crowd at a Shell Station in Utah thinks of me.
“Metaphorically screwed?” Will asks. “Wait, are you and the girl—”
My hand tightens around the phone. “Cassidy. I kissed her.”
“And?”
I check the grimy window, making sure she’s still safely asleep in the front seat where I left her. “And I like her.”
“Why do you sound like you’re being held hostage? The girl is cute. If you kissed her, I would assume you agree.”
The ill-lit gas station smells like cedar and tobacco. I pace the nonperishable food aisle a few times before moving toward an end cap displaying a smattering of camping essentials. I grab a blanket and shove it under my arm. “I’m not trying to start a relationship.”
“So don’t. You don’t have to seriously date every girl you kiss. Enjoy each other until you get home and see what happens.”
The ghost of Cassidy’s whispered thank-you flits through me, cooling my skin. That thank-you cracked my chest wide open. The people in her past have done a number on her.
Pretty sure sex followed by a swift see you never is the last thing she wants or needs.
“That’s not an option,” I say evenly.
“Okay. Sounds like that’s it, then. Say your goodbyes when you get home and onward to the next adventure. Hey, I was thinking I’d rent a pontoon while you’re here, if we do Pismo…”
I don’t hear the rest of his sentence.
All I can think is, I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Some part of me should’ve known to brace for the reality of this, but foolishly I thought I was immune to everything happening between us.
I’m not.
I didn’t stand a chance, trapped in transit with her.
“Are you still there?”
I shake my head fast and hard. “Yes. Just…fuck, I don’t know, man. I think I’m losing it. This conversation actually made it worse, somehow.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere. Okay, advice time. Here’s what you do. Are you writing this down?”
I hook a left down another aisle. “Scribbling in earnest.”
A dangling box of condoms catches my eye.
“Let this whole thing go,” Will says emphatically. “Simply exist.”
My hand lifts toward the Trojan box.
And then drops.
I pivot on my heel.
I’m not buying condoms after two kisses. Presumptuous behavior.
I’m more screwed than I realized, panicking at a goddamn Shell station over a simple condoms purchase. “‘Simply exist’ isn’t advice, Will. It’s a bumper sticker.”
“But your head went somewhere, didn’t it? When I said do nothing—what was your knee-jerk reaction? Were you disappointed? Listen to that part of yourself. It’ll give you far better advice than I do.”
The trickster makes a solid point. My gut is screaming at me, dragging Cassidy’s smiling face to the forefront of my brain. “I’m going to go. Remind me never to drive across the country again.”
Will snickers. “Most people just play road-trip games.”
“Cass loves games.”
“Your girl has good taste.”
Your girl.
Fuck if I don’t like the way it sounds.