Page 64 of The Love Hoax

“That was smart. A way to keep tabs on each other.”

“Exactly, in case we got separated on one of our hikes or for . . . any other reason.”

Like if I hooked up with someone. I may have no interest in a relationship but companionship, that’s another story.

It never occurred to me that it would be Evie who would be willingly whisked away by a dashing local man. She is by far the more cautious of the two of us. It’s one of several reasons to worry.

“Jeffrey got me thinking I could locate her wherever she is. I spent a while trying to figure it out but can’t.”

Paul takes the phone from me and fiddles with it, tapping and swiping. The man is two decades my senior and more capable with tech than I am.

Paul hands the phone back to me. “Is this what you need?”

He has opened the app to a section I don’t recognize and I squint at it in surprise. Staring at the screen, I speak barely above a whisper. “Evie, my dear, what on earth are you up to now?”

Chapter Forty-Five

Evie

My eyes closed, I stir. Something pleasant is holding me down on the very comfortable bed. I snuggle closer, feeling movement behind me. A warm body.

My eyes shoot open, shifting to assess the situation. I’m in a spooning position, the inside of it, to be precise. Soft breath warms my cheek. I note the muscular arm draped across my waist. No mistaking it belongs to Adam.

Oh boy.

At least there’s a sheet covering me. But how much of me is unclear. I’m too scared to venture a peek beneath the sheet. Careful not to disturb the status quo, I slip my fingers under, relieved to feel the edges of my camisole and boy shorts. Better than nothing.

I wrack my brain to recall what happened,

Tahoe, burgers, boat ride, a very long drive.

Then it hits me.

The pills.

I meant to take two Ibuprofen tablets. After many hours in the car, my back had been acting up and I dug into my bag for the pills. Given my current condition, I have to assume it’s Caroline’s sleeping pills I ingested.

Caroline offered them to me a week before our flight. The idea was to sleep well on the plane and hit the ground running when we arrived in Yosemite. I must have grabbed the wrong bottle. One pill could knock me out. Two would be the equivalent of a Roofie.

Adam stirs and I freeze.

What did we do last night?

Maybe I can creep out from beneath him, tiptoe to the bathroom and get dressed, then act like everything is normal.

Um, no. Surely, Adam knows everything that happened. Last I recall he was perfectly sober.

A narrow strip of sunlight filters between the curtains.

I blink rapidly, looking around. Everything is white. The walls, the carpet, the sheets.

Why are we even in the same room?

I need answers. And only one person has them. Slowly, I turn to face Adam, shocked to see his eyes are wide open.

He smiles. “Hey.”

His hair is disheveled. He’s in dire need of a shave. He smells intensely masculine and . . . all that separates us is an inch of air. He’s staring at my bottom lip.