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My brows rise. “Look at you. So you can be fancy.”
He circles around the car to where we’re concealed, and then he grabs my ass and gives it a squeeze. “I can be when I got precious cargo with me.”
He hefts me into the passenger side and slams the door before I can respond. That’s fine, because I don’t have a response. He’s different since I said I wanted to take a chance with him. His stride is more confident. He touches me like I belong to him now. And deep down, the part of me that doesn’t care we haven’t been together long believes I can.
He gets in, looking so fine, I want to kick my feet a little. Instead, I reach out and brush the side of his jaw with the backs of my fingers. He glances over as he starts the engine.
“You good?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I say. “Let’s go home and figure this out.”
The euphoric haze of falling for him keeps my head above water all the ride back. It’s a few hours, but it flies by. I take the blanket he bought in the airport and wrap it around me, leaning against the door. His hand rests absently on my ankle.
He’s always touching me, like he’s afraid I’m not real.
I wonder if all that being on the road made him feel like everything was fleeting.
It’s near dinner time when we finally pull up to the driveway. Before we got on the plane, I texted Serena to let her know we were headed back. She just said that was fine and to be safe. Then, she didn’t respond to the text I sent when we landed. That’s a little strange, but probably nothing to worry about.
Coen cuts the engine. I glance sideways.
“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Don’t worry. I got this.”
“He’s my dad. I have to handle it.”
“I have your back.”
He leans in, and it feels so strange to let him kiss me out in the open. We get out of the car, and he grabs the bags, leading the way to the porch. Before we can even climb the steps, the front door flies open, and Serena charges out. She’s in a tank top, an old pair of shorts she’s not supposed to wear because they’re too short, and her dusty cowboy boots. She stops short, narrowing her eyes at Coen.
“Some friend you have,” she snaps.
Uh-oh.
The door crashes open again, and Jamie appears, stopping short and putting his hands on his hips. It doesn’t look like he’s had the time to change out of the clothes he was in when we met, but they’re a lot more disheveled.
“The fuck is wrong with your sister?” he asks, scowling.
Coen and I look sideways at each other. This isn’t what either of us were expecting.
“What’s the problem here?” Coen asks.
Jamie opens his mouth but then thinks better of it. Serena takes a huge breath and turns on her heel to face us.
“Dad is really upset, so he locked himself in his office. I said we can just stick a crowbar under, lift it up, and then if you turn the lock, you can punch the side of the knob, and it pops open,” she says in a rush. “He went into the long explanation about how this would jack up the frame—”
“I said the hinges,” Jamie corrects.
“Whatever. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not, but—”
She whirls on him. “You want to live today?”
Coen’s eyes are wide. I know this side of Serena, and it doesn’t mean what he thinks it does. I climb the stairs, and Jamie steps out of the way.
“Coen, you can bring everything up to my room,” I say.
“Right,” he says, climbing the stairs and disappearing into the hall.
