Page 68 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

"Subtle," I tell them."Very subtle."

"Is he taking you home?"Claire asks eagerly.

"On his private jet?"Mom chimes in.

"On a train, apparently."

"A train?"Harper frowns."Like...Amtrak?"

"I guess we'll find out."I grab my purse and the leftover wine."Thanks for dinner.And for not completely humiliating me."

"The night's still young," Harper calls as I head back out.

Luke's waiting by a car that's definitely not his usual town car.This one's more understated, but still screams money in that quiet way rich people prefer.

"Ready?"he asks.

No, I think.

I'm not ready for any of this.

Not ready for how you make me feel.Not ready to tell you the truth.Not ready to lose whatever the hell we're building, even if it's built on sand.

"Ready," I lie.

Because that's what I do now, apparently.

I lie to Luke Sterling.

And pretend it doesn't feel like swallowing glass every time I do.

14

GAME OF PHONES

LUKE

The cool Sunday night air wraps around Sage and me as we stand on a private platform at King Street Station, watching the train car approach.

"That's...that's not a regular train car," the ruby-haired innkeeper beside me says slowly.

"No," I agree."It's not."

The restored 1920s Pullman car gleams under the platform lights, all polished mahogany and brass fixtures.

It's attached to the regular Amtrak Cascades heading north, looking like a piece of history that got lost and decided to stick around.

"You own a train car."Her voice is flat."An actual vintage train car that you just...attach to regular trains?"

"Technically, it's a rail car.Trains are the engines that?—"

"Luke."

"Yes, I own a train car."

She turns to look at me, green eyes wide."Why?"

It's a reasonable question.