Page 88 of Dreamscape Therapies

“I see that.”

I put the truck into drive and head toward my house.

“Did you pack thirteen pairs of underwear and one shirt?”

“Uh…” He grabs the bag and unzips it just enough to peek inside. “Two pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, a hoodie, four books, a laptop, and a phone charger.”

“Why do you need four books and no underwear?”

“Well, I need my comfort read, which is a book I've already read. Then I need my mood read, although I might be wrong about what kind of mood I'm going to be in. Then there's my backup mood read, which might also be wrong. And finally, my left-field read. Something completely random that might satisfy a craving I don't know I have yet.”

“You crave books?”

“You don't?”

I shrug. I've never thought about books that way before, but somehow, knowing Vincent, it makes perfect sense.

“And the no underwear?”

“Ah.” He suddenly finds the contents of his bag fascinating. “I don't really wear underwear in the first place, so…”

He trails off, his face turning bright red.

My brain promptly stops functioning.

Does that mean he isn't wearing any right now?

I shove the thought away.

Or try to.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” Vincent says, his voice dropping into a low growl, “we aren't going to make it back to your place.”

I realize I'm staring at him again when a car horn blares long and loud and far too close. I jerk back into my lane and glance at Vincent.

“Watch the road before you get us killed. I have too many plans that can't be spoiled this soon.”

“If you weren't so distracting, I would be able to focus better.”

He laughs, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You're blaming me?”

“Absolutely.”

His smile turns wicked. “Good. Because I have every intention of being a distraction when we get home.”

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “Vincent.”

“Hmm?”

“You're going to make me crash.”

“Then hurry up and get us home.”

I groan and turn my attention firmly back to the road. The bastard is enjoying every second of this. When I finally pull into the driveway, Vincent looks toward the house and lets out a soft whistle.

“I don't think I've ever been this excited to see a therapist's office.”

“You're ridiculous.”