Page 39 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Twenty

Raylen

Australia

“You can put your arm around me, you know,” Moe purrs near my ear as I cling to the door of the rental car like it's a lifeline.

“Shut up. Shouldn’t this have passed by now?” I grumble, shoving weakly at his chest. I want to admire the quaint little white house with the wooden picket fence, but my head’s pounding and my legs are threatening to fold underneath me.

“It’s just jet lag, baby. It'll go away,” he says with a laugh, leaning casually against the white pickup with our bags in hand like he doesn't have a care in the world.

“It’s miserable,” I mutter, slapping the door for emphasis. “The world’s ending. The ground’s about to crack open and swallow me whole. I’m going to fall into a black hole and never return.”

I push off the door dramatically, stumbling onto the sidewalk and bracing against the little waist-high fence like it might save me.

The garden’s overflowing with so many damn flowers that the scent makes my nose itch, and a bug zips past my ear, sending me into a frantic swatting motion, convinced I’m about to get stung for trespassing.

A large palm settles on my lower back. I want to squirm away from it—really, I do—but I let it anchor me, let the heat from his hand calm the part of me that’s still spiraling .

“I love it when you get all dark and twisty,” he whispers, and I roll my eyes, but my gaze drops to the stepping stones underfoot. I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth as my toes bounce over each one.

“There’s the little ray of sunshine. Like it?” he asks with a laugh, and I freeze in front of the door like an idiot. Of course, I like it—but now he probably thinks I’ve never seen anything beyond my house, Laura’s, and the diner. Which… okay, maybe not entirely false.

“I’ve hardly seen anything yet to say if I like it or not,” I mumble, grabbing for the handle only to find it locked.

Out of pure stubbornness, and a hint of embarrassment, I don’t budge from my stance.

Not even when he slips his arm between me and the door, sliding a green key into the lock like he owns the place.

“Then tell me what you want to see,” Moe says as he pushes the door open.

I step inside first, nudging his arm aside with my chest like it’ll prove something.

The space is open—bright, clean, baby-blue walls, white furniture, windows everywhere.

It’s almost too perfect, like a vacation rental meant for someone else's dream.

“Or don’t,” he adds when I don’t respond.

I honestly have no clue what to say. What do people usually do in new places? Sightsee? Hike? Find a museum? I just want a bathroom and a minute to breathe without a swarm of smells, lights, or the weight of being so far from everything I know.

As we pass the first room, I peek in and find the curtains drawn. A candle flickers beside a jar of candy on a pristine dresser. A stack of gray blankets sits at the foot of a massive white bed. There’s no TV, which sucks because I’d love to melt into that mattress and binge garbage reality shows.

“There are too many spiders in Australia,” I mutter. “I think I’ll just hide in here so they don’t eat me.”

We stop in front of the next door, and thank God, it’s a bathroom. I exhale in relief, but when I turn around, Moe’s still standing behind me so I narrow my eyes.

Moe grins as I take a step back into the bathroom, and he takes a step forward.

If this jerk thinks he’s coming into the bathroom with me while I do my business, he’s sadly mistaken.

I place my hand against his chest and give him a shove, but he just laughs and shrugs, crossing his arms and trapping my hand.

“We can find plenty of places that are spider-free,” he purrs.

“Then find one,” I huff, yanking my hand back and slamming the door shut.

“Oh, and baby?” he calls through the door just as I’m scrambling toward the toilet. “Make sure to check the bowl before you sit! Spiders like to hide in there!”

The scream I let out nearly shatters my eardrums as I jump from the seat and lean back against the wall, expecting one of the giant pests I’ve seen in so many YouTube videos to jump out at me.

I swear this fucking vacation will be the last one I ever take at this rate.

“You're still mad,” Moe sighs, placing his hand on my thigh while his eyes stay locked on the road.

Without looking at him, I jerk my legs toward the door, ignoring the way the seat belt digs into my ribs.

Of course I’m still mad. What does he expect?

He nearly made me piss myself, and ever since, I’ve been inspecting every surface, crack, and corner like a paranoid lunatic, waiting for a spider to launch itself at my face.

I barely managed to get changed for this outing without imagining one crawling out of my shorts.

His fingers press more firmly into my thigh like he’s daring me to push him off, but I don’t. I just glare out the window .

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing. “I was just joking. When we get back to the B he just slides his hand off my thigh and hops out of the car, as if this is some grand reveal. My eyes narrow as he rounds the vehicle and opens my door like a smug bastard who hasn’t just ruined my week.

I don’t move. Not even as the scent of pizza hits me like a punch to the face. It smells like molten cheese and grease and garlic and all the things I’ve been craving since the plane landed. My nose twitches and my stomach growls.

“You’re a hangry little thing,” Moe teases, smug as hell. “We’re getting food before you go full feral and try to eat me instead. ”

I roll my eyes and tilt my chin up with all the fake defiance I can muster, launching to push past him with purpose but the damn seat belt catches me mid-stride and yanks me back into the car.

“Or the seat belt,” he adds, his grin widening as I bare my teeth in a very real snarl. God, I want to bite him. And the worst part? He’d probably like it.

I unbuckle calmly, make my exit without a word, and march across the lot like a nylon strap didn’t just manhandle me. The second I swing the door open, I stop dead in my tracks.

“Holy shit…” I whisper.

The space is bathed in neon, glowing so bright it nearly blinds me. Electronic beeps fill the air, paired with muffled laughter, the whirring of machines, and the occasional shout. Pinball, air hockey, racing games, shooter games, old-school consoles—it’s a goddamn arcade.

“You’re kind of difficult to plan dates for,” Moe says beside me, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It was either this or a haunted house, and that one didn’t serve food, so…”

The laugh bursts from me before I can stop it, head tilting back as it echoes through the space and shakes something loose inside my chest. I spin away from him, darting into the rows of games like a kid let loose in a candy store.

My fingers twitch with the urge to snatch every abandoned coin on a console, and I hold off for maybe five seconds before slipping a shiny token from a racing simulator and booking it to the skee-ball lanes like I’ve just committed a felony.

I don’t get far though.

I slam into a wall of muscle and freeze.

“Easy now, sunshine,” he laughs, catching me by the elbow. I brace a hand on my stomach and lift the stolen coin between my fingers like a weapon.

“I’m suing. You better be prepared to drain your bank account.”

He leans in, face close, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re threatening the wrong person, baby. I could arrest you for theft—petty theft, sure—but I might be able to upgrade it to larceny if I try hard enough. ”

“I didn’t—”

“I bet you’d look damn good in cuffs,” he whispers against my jaw, and my knees damn near give out.

Goddamn it. Now I don’t know if I want food, to play, or to drag him into the nearest broom closet and let him handcuff me to a shelf.

He pulls back and hands me a plastic cup full of tokens, a massive slice of pepperoni pizza balanced on a paper plate beside it.

“Just…” I throw the coin at his forehead, snatch both items, and scowl. “Give me that.”

He catches the coin easily, without flinching, holding it up between us. “Put it back, sunshine. I’ll buy you all the coins and food you want. But I fell for the woman who earns what she wants, not the one who takes.”

I groan, glaring at my overloaded hands. Moe plucks the cup from me, places the coin in my palm, and nudges me toward the games. “Eat while you’re at it. Maybe then you’ll stop growling at me.”

I grumble something noncommittal and march across the arcade, slamming the token back onto the console where I found it, as if it’s some dramatic act of repentance.