Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I narrow my eyes at her. “Then take your fiancé.”
“Yeah…” Her eyebrows furrow for just a second, and then she nods decisively as if just coming to a final decision. “I’m not marrying him.”
“What?” I cough out.
“I’m not marrying him. I think I’ve known for a while, but I just wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.”
“Are you gonna let him in on this bit of news?”
She just smiles big at me. “In a week, once we’re back. First, I want to go on a road trip. Or maybe I’ll call him while we’re away.”
“So you’re just gonna Runaway Bride this whole thing?”
“Oh god, yes.” She grins. “That sounds amazing.”
“And you want me to come?”
“Well, of course.” She flashes her eyelashes up at me. “Horror movie rules. You don’t let the redhead go on a road trip alone. What if I pick up a sadistic, serial-killing hitchhiker out of the goodness of my heart?” Then she snorts. “Besides, I’m sure Drew will be living it up this week. He won’t even miss me.”
“Is that why you really want me along? As a distraction from Drew?”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen us together. There’s no chemistry. It’s a negative spark zone.”
Maybe not chemistry… but it’s something. “You were high school sweethearts.”
“No we weren’t,” she snaps. Then breathes out, her head tilting sideways. “Look, if you come on the road trip with me, I swear I’ll tell you everything, along with any other thing on Earth you want to hear about. We can play twenty questions.” Then she pulls back a little. “But only if you want to.”
I stare at her for a moment. But not a long one. Frankly, she had me at not-marrying-the-douche-canoe.
“When do we leave, Red?”
Her grin returns, full-wattage blasting me straight in the dick.
Well, shit. I guess we’re going on a road trip.
FORTY-ONE
KIRA
“I’m so excited we’re doing this!” I all but squeal when we’re finally on the I-287 North out of Dallas. It’s eight at night, so we’re at the tail end of evening traffic. A quad cappuccino Anna brewed for me right before we left has me bright, perky, and ready for a night of driving.
“Still think we should’ve taken my truck,” Isaak grumbles from beside me.
“Please. That thing has a hundred and eighty thousand miles on it. We would’ve died on the side of the road somewhere outside of Amarillo. Then we’d really be in a horror movie.”
“Betty’s got at least another fifty thousand left in her. Don’t besmirch her good name.”
I roll my eyes, still grinning. “And we don’t have access to all my playlists in Betty.” I punch the music app on my dashboard screen and hit my party mix. Dua Lipa’s sultry voice comes on telling Houdini to catch her before she goes.
“You got any country on there?”
“Actually, just in your honor, I did throw together a country mix. Look, here’s one you should like, old man.”
I click on my new country mix playlist. First song up is “Old Town Road.” As soon as Billy Ray Cyrus’s voice comes on singing the chorus, Isaak’s hand starts massaging my thigh.
Oh. Well, that’s quite nice. God, I’ve missed his touch. I can’t believe I just leapt like that and invited him on the roadtrip and decided about not marrying Drew after all my waffling back and forth. It was just like, after the scare with seeing my stalker face to face, it all seemed so simple and straightforward. I could finally see.
What the hell was I waiting for?
It’s my goddamned life.
So what if I run into a panic attack here or there?
I can’t stay a porcelain princess protected in my little box on the shelf forever. I mean, I could. But that sounds more miserable than a million terrifying moments all strung together. And I would have chosen it. I just finally saw it so clearly. I would’ve been choosing the loveless, stifling box.
I also saw I could choose freedom.
So I leapt, and trusted Isaak would catch me.
And now here we are.
“Now you’re just playin’ with fire, Red.” Isaak shoots me a lopsided grin.
I feel that one straight to the core. “What’s that mean?”
I’m not breathless. Who’s breathless?
“It means if you keep goin’ and puttin’ on my favorite songs, I’m gonna make you pull over, throw you in the back seat and eat you out ’til you lose your voice from screaming so much.”
I gulp. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both.”
I try to keep my breathing even, but it’s a losing battle. I’ve had a few inspired ideas in my life, but I’m starting to think this road trip was one of the better ones.
I also wish I’d worked a little harder on the country playlist because the rest of it is mostly a mix of the Chicks, Reyna Reynolds, with the best of Kacey Musgraves and Brandi Carlile thrown in for added flavor.