Page 61 of Here We Go Again

Fifteen minutes later, we’re on a very crowded train riding to the rental car center at the Tampa airport. Unfortunately, my former seatmate is also on the train, and he’s eyeing me up and down in a way that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

I take a step closer to Theo, and the train jostles me straight into his chest.

He must sense how I’m feeling, because his free arm wraps around my waist, tugging me into his side, and it stays there. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice low. “That guy’s a creep.”

The contrast between how it feels to have this man touch me, hold me, versus how it felt to have another man simply look at me is jarring, and I make a vow to myself that if I ever have sons, I will raise them to be safe men. Honest. Good. Respectful.

I let myself melt into Theo a little more, lifting one hand to his chest and pressing it against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. I probably shouldn’t, but he smells so good. And he just feels so strong, so steady.

I like being a woman capable of taking care of myself. And I’ve spent several years living on my own, driving to new cities, working at new hospitals.

I’ve learned how to walk in dark parking garages without turning myself into a target. How to sense the intentions of men who would do me harm. But there’s something to be said about standing next to a good man, about trusting, just for a moment, that he’s got my back.

Theo’s thumb slides up and down my side, only a whisper of a touch, but I feel it all the way down in my toes. “I would really like for him to stop staring at you,” he says. There’s a note of possessiveness in his voice that makes my blood heat.

I’d like for the guy to stop staring too, but I can’t say I mind standing this close to Theo. No matter how much I probably should mind.

I don’t know how long the train ride is. Three, maybe four minutes? But by the time we ease to a stop outside the rental car center, every nerve ending in my body is awake and ready for duty. I’m so aware of Theo. His warmth. His scent. The rhythm of his breathing. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, and it feels a little fast. Or is that my heartbeat?

Mine is definitely fast. I have no idea what’s happening—I just know that I can’t look up. I can’t make eye contact with Theo because if I do, he’ll see how much I like this. How good it feels to have his arm around me.

The train doors slide open, and Theo positions his duffle on top of my suitcase, extending his free hand to me. I take it, weaving our fingers together. “Just until we’re away from him,” he says, tilting his head toward the other man.

I glance over my shoulder as we move toward the rental car counter. The man watches us for a brief moment, but then he turns and melts into the crowd heading the opposite direction.

Maybe it would have been nothing.

But I’m so glad I wasn’t alone. That I didn’t have to find out.

We stop next to a sleek black counter across from an attendant wearing a double-breasted suit and cuff links. The company has a name I don’t recognize, but I quickly gather from the available context clues that this is some kind of premium service.

I lean over to Theo while the attendant taps on his keyboard. “I take it you didn’t reserve the economy option? No mid-sized Kia for you?”

He looks down at me and grins. “The job has some perks.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’re driving away from the airport in a Porsche Cayenne.

So … yeah. Perks.

“How do you feel about a more scenic route?” Theo asks as he pulls onto the highway. “It might lengthen our trip a little. Maybe two hours instead of one?”

“I don’t know, Theo. This car isn’t very nice. Are you sure it’ll make it an extra hour?”

He smirks. “You just forfeited your right to have an opinion. Scenic route it is.”

Once we’re winding our way down the coast, the sparkling gulf on our right, a warm, salty breeze blowing through the windows, I can’t regret Theo deciding for me.

This feels like a vacation. Windows down. Music blasting. A stupidly gorgeous man in the seat next to me. It’s ridiculously hot outside, but I don’t even care.

Maybe Mom is right. Maybe I have forgotten how to live big.

“You seem to know this route,” I say to Theo. As far as I can tell, he isn’t using GPS.

“I do,” he says as he slows and turns into a dusty gravel parking lot of the tiniest, most rundown restaurant I’ve ever seen. “When we were kids, Carter and I went to a hockey clinic every summer in Tampa. After it finished, our parents flew out and picked us up, then we always drove south to Anna Maria for two weeks of vacation. No hockey allowed. It was usually the longest we ever went without putting on skates.”

“How did I not know this about you? You made the trip every year?”

“Every year until we started playing junior hockey. We both made the team in Frisco right after we turned fifteen, so we would have stopped by the time you and I were together. But once Carter and I were drafted, we started making the trip again. Making it an intentional vacation we took, just the two of us.”