Page 123 of Devious Love

I’m nervous, but I’m ready to get this trip started—mostly because I hope that by the end of it, I’ll have the answers I seek.

I’m halfway down the stairs with my suitcase when quick footsteps snag my attention. Then, he’s in front of me, easing the luggage out of my grip.

My stomach lurches at his proximity. “You don’t have to… It’s not?—”

Without a word, he turns and heads back to his car, rolling my suitcase behind him.

“Heavy…” I finish, even though he’s already approaching the back of his truck.

With a shake of my head, I make my way to the Escalade. The whole way there, I can’t help but check him out. Dammit. He’s always been confident, even cocky, but the confidence he carries himself with now is earned. He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt that’s just tight enough to show off the muscles in his back. His arms flex under the weight of my suitcase when he lifts it into the trunk.

When he steps back, he looks at me, wearing a smirk. Yeah, he knows I’m checking him out. Honestly, I don’t feel bad about it. Before I can open the passenger door, he darts over and does it for me. Rather than back away to give me space to climb in, he stays close, and I’m forced to brush up against him.

Goosebumps spread across my skin as I settle into the leather seat.

He brackets the open door. “Do you need help with your seat belt?”

It takes all my strength not to swoon. “No, thanks,” I say, a little breathlessly.

“Suit yourself.” He licks his lips and steps back. “Just whistle if you change your mind.”

“Are you a dog now?”

His eyes flare. “Maybe.” He closes the door, but before it latches, he fucking woofs.

Goodness, what did I get myself into?

We’rethree hours into the drive, and he’s been on his best behavior, his eyes on the road and an easy smile on his lips. He let me choose the music and didn’t mind when I asked him to stop for coffee. The road ahead is empty, and according to the GPS, we’re still two hours away from Luna’s grandparents’ lake house.

I was sure the ride would be awkward, but he’s made it all so easy, and I’m happy to play along. We talk about our childhood and our previous trips to Lake Tahoe, about his work at the shop and with the football team, about my job as a game designer and the freelance work I still do. We don’t go deep into any of the topics and tiptoe around any subject that’ll lead to us talking about the months we spent together. And for now, I think that’s for the best. I don’t want to spoil the moment; my mood is too good.

“So, you’re really back for good?” he asks.

I turn the music down a bit. “At least for now. I haven’t officially decided yet.”

The corners of his mouth drop for an instant, but he quickly forces a smile to his face. “That’s good to know. Nothing was the same without you here.”

“Life in Italy was nothing like it is here either.”

He eyes me quickly, a crease between his brows. Then, he coughs and clears his throat. “What about your job? Won’t moving be an issue?”

Grateful for the opportunity to change the subject, I relax against the seat and explain the relocation process. He listens attentively, asking questions. His interest encourages me to share some of the projects I’m most proud of and to bitch aboutthe last time my team and I participated in a hackathon and won nothing.

It’s all going well…almost too well.

Thirty minutesfrom the lake house, we stop for gas. Dominic runs in for a pack of cigarettes, and I ask him to bring me a bottle of water. While I wait, I stretch my legs, leaning back against the leather seat.

On the console beside me, his phone buzzes and lights up. I don’t mean to look, really. It’s pure instinct.

And the second I see the message, my heart sinks.

The number isn’t saved in his contacts, but what the text suggests is way more information than I need.

Unknown Number:

Even a month later, I’m still thinking about how you had me Busy Saturday?

Irritation and hurt flaring, I turn away, tugging on the hem of my tee. When the phone buzzes again, a reminder notification, I close my eyes and force a deep breath.