Page 22 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

After showering, we pack a picnic and head toward the field behind the RV park. Hayes walks in weaving patterns, occasionally picking up a rock, examining it, then tossing it aside.

“What are you doing?”

His head whips to me like he forgot I was here. “Nothing.” His tone is edged, his expression already shuttering into that broody librarian mode he wears all too well.

I know how to take care of that. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

He scowls at me like I asked him to explain quantum physics or something equally as hard. “Really?”

“You’re clearly not in a talkative mood, and I hate silence. Asking questions is how I problem-solve.”

“How is asking random questions solving a problem?”

I bump my shoulder against his arm, but his stone-like body doesn’t shift an inch. “You’re talking to me now, aren’t ya?”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Neapolitan.”

“Eww. Really? You like your ice cream indecisive?”

“And drowned in caramel syrup and topped with nuts. Nothing beats a sundae.” He bends to pick up another rock, rolls it over in his hand, drops it. “If there was only ice cream available, no cake, what flavor would you get? ”

“Vanilla.”

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You like rainbow sprinkles in your cake. And not the normal cake for sprinkles. You go all weird with red velvet. Isn’t that the same thing as my crazy sundae?”

“Not even a little bit. All the sprinkles taste the same. They’re just added sugar, not flavor. And vanilla is—”

“Ordinary. It goes against everything I know about you.”

“Does it make you feel better to hear that I prefer waffle cones over sugar cones?”

“No.” He almost smiles. Almost. It’s subtle, but still affects me like his full-blown version would.

I’m all fireworks and sizzle over here.

We fall into a comfortable-ish quiet until I step on something hard and round. Lifting my boot, I lean down to collect the tan and white striped rock. It reminds me of caramel swirls in vanilla ice cream. A mix of our two favorites.

“Does this one pass your secret rock test?” I toss it to him, and he catches it one-handed.

He examines all sides, then nods. “That works.” Into his jeans pocket it goes.

Jeans that put Wrangler models to shame. With those jeans and his cowboy—

“Dagnabbit." I slap my thigh when I notice he isn’t wearing his aht. How can he attend a country concert and not wear it?

“Dagnabbit?”

I cringe. I hadn’t meant it to sound so country, but I’m permeable to my surroundings, soaking in the environment, the noise, and spirit everywhere I go. And it’s worse when I’m nervous.

“You forgot your hat.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“You brought it? Where are you hiding—” My eyes roll at his naughty smirk, cluing me in to the joke. “I see what you did there. Took me a second.”

He winks, sending my innards into a tizzy.

We continue our trek through the tall grass until the distant hum of a crowd leads us to the concert gates.

We find a decent spot with a view—assuming no one tall shows up and blocks it—and spread out the blanket.

“I’ve never been to an outdoor concert like this. I’m sure there are plenty in Manhattan, but Ryder wouldn’t be caught dead at anything that might scuff his designer shoes.”

“You sure know how to pick ’em.” Hayes sets the cooler of food and drinks he carried all the way here on a blanket corner, drops to the ground, and stretches out his long legs. Effortless and graceful.

Meanwhile, I frump down on the blanket with the grace of a heavy bag of potatoes.

“You don’t talk about him very kindly,” he says casually, like he’s not poking a bruise. “What did he do?”

“Traded me in for a younger, better model. Literally. I think her pictures are in Vogue . ”

His eyes don’t move from my face. “Did you love him?”

Not exactly a question I'd expect from him. Usually, he avoids uncomfortable topics. The shock makes me blurt the truth. “Not like you’re supposed to love the person you give three years of your life to.”

“What was missing?”

Everything you did last night and this morning , I think, but don’t dare say. “He just wasn’t my person. What about you? What kind of women do you like?”

His laugh is sudden and genuine. Unexpected again. “Don’t ask me that.” Amusement fades as he snatches a long blade of grass from the ground.

“Why?” Intrigued, I fold my legs and face him. He fidgets with the grass, twirling it between his fingers. “Do you like models, too?”

“Don’t insult me by putting me in the same category as your stupid ex.”

“How do you know he’s stupid? He owns one of the largest wineries on the East Coast.”

“Still stupid.”

“Because he let me go?”

“Exactly.”

That one word answer sinks in deep. I was being flippant to get a rise out of him, fully thinking he'd dismiss me, not agree. “Thank you. It’s nice to hear that from someone other than my brother.”

There’s something secret in the way he looks at me tonight. Something I wish I could understand .

“What about Grant? Does he defend the idiot?”

“Oh, no. He hates Ryder, but my best friend and brother are supposed to feel that way. Coming from you, it means more.”

His gaze holds mine for a beat before shifting to the field beyond. The crowd’s building around us, a sea of legs and coolers.

“Thank you for taking the time to do this,” I tell him to break the dreaded quiet.

“No problem.”

“I figured you want to get back on the road today.”

“I’m letting loose. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

I can’t stop the big, goofy smile that comes on and makes my cheeks ache. “Absolutely, but you’re still wound a little tight. Have you ever fully let your hair down?”

“That’s prohibited in the military.”

“Is that a buzz cut joke?”

“A bad one.”

“Not true. I laughed.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“It was internal.” I return his wink from earlier. “Stealth laugh.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you should take some comedic lessons from Jordan. His dad jokes are always ready for every situation.”

His face scrunches as he leans back on an elbow. “My personality doesn’t entertain. ”

“Maybe not, but I bet you’re someone who never gives up. You could do anything you set your mind to. Even comedy.”

An unsteady grin drifts onto his face. The ominous clouds usually swirling inside him have settled enough to let him relax the way he’s trying to. He’s a spring shower instead of the usual thunderstorm. I can’t help it. I’m proud of him.

“Thanks, but I’ll leave the jokes to Jordan.”

The conversation continues to flow as the band sets up on stage, giving me the courage to venture into personal territory.

“Can I ask why you searched for a rock earlier?”

His hands freeze, then he tosses the blade of grass he’d tied into multiple knots. His clouds are back, and I’ve ruined the moment for him, bringing back the source of his turbulence. Jordan warned me, and I still couldn’t control myself.

Backtracking, I reach for my camera. “You know what? I’m gonna go get a few pictures of the countryside before the light goes—”

His fingers wrap around my wrist. “Wait.”

I still. Not breathing. Not able to ignore the feel of his palm warming my skin.

“My little sister collects rocks from the places she visits. She asked me to do the same.”

“That’s adorable. How old is she?”

“Nine.”

“Wow. Quite the age gap between you. ”

“There are three more sisters in the middle. She decided to join the party late in my parents’ marriage.”

Mirroring his posture, I drop to my elbow and rest my hand lightly on his, hoping he won’t retreat. We’re less than a foot apart, and there’s no ignoring the rigid strain in his muscles. I’d give and do anything to bring his peace back.

“That explains so much."

“What does?”

“You’re so gentle with me, even with your big-brother protector energy and when I’m annoying you.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

“Careful, Staff Sergeant. I might take that as a challenge.”

His eyes twitch, surely imagining all the levels of annoying I could unleash. “Please don’t.”

“I knew it. I do drive you batty.”

“Oh, you drive me something, but it isn’t crazy.” His gaze cuts to the group setting up beside us, like he regrets saying it.

“I don’t believe you. I annoy everyone.”

“No. You’re like Jordan telling his dad jokes.”

“Bad?” I give him my best tough biker chick impression, but it probably comes across more like an angry mouse.

He shakes his head. "Endearing."

The compliment shoots a Cupid’s arrow through my favorite sundress and straight into my heart. The one place I tried to keep Hayes Montgomery from entering .

“I’m sorry.” His hand slinks away as he sits up, bringing me back to the moment. “I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Jordan I would respect and protect you. Not—”

Following, I poke his shoulder with my finger, heart racing. “Don’t you ever apologize for showing your heart, Hayes. It’s your best quality.

His gaze finds mine over his shoulder, shock flaring in those dark, mysterious eyes, before fizzling out. He glances over the park. “I need a drink. Want anything?”

“I’ll get it,” I stand before he can. “You relax and enjoy the view.”