Page 26 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

Hayes

A truck blares its horn on the way by, snapping us back to earth. She laughs, her eyes still dazed as they fall to me.

“The perfect exclamation point to that kiss. Kind of poetic, really, given the reason we’re here on the side of the road.”

I can’t muster the same appreciation. Guilt has already crept in, staining the edges of a first kiss that could’ve been perfect had I not been so selfish.

Her amusement shifts down a few notches. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just . . .” I shake my head. “I should’ve waited. Chosen a better moment.”

“You’re not going to apologize for kissing me out here, are you? ”

I look away, but it’s too late. She’s already seen the truth.

“Hayes,” she says carefully, keeping her hands on my arms as I set her down. “Did you feel something or was it . . . just okay for you?”

I can’t believe she’s asking me this. Every cell in my body stood and saluted this woman for the grand finale of fireworks she set off inside me. It was everything.

Wait. Did she think the kiss was just okay ?

“The truth, Sergeant,” she says with a teasing lift of her chin. “Because that was slam-the-bedroom-door amazing, and—”

I silence her with another kiss, this one slower but no less hungry. “No. It was fucking amazing,” I whisper against her lips. “That’s what you meant to say.”

“I don’t curse. But you almost made me forget that about myself.”

“I’ll take it.”

“And for the record, you can kiss me anytime, anywhere. Got it?”

I appreciate the green light, but I can’t think about potentially repeating this moment. Not while I’m desperately trying not to think about how Jordan will react.

She leans against the van and motions toward the shredded tire, taking me away from the worry. Nothing I can do to take it back now, and damn it, I don’t want to.

“What now?" she asks. “I’m happy to stay like this for the next week, but we should probably keep moving. ”

“We have a spare.” Reluctantly, I step away and check the surrounding area. “We can make it to the town up ahead and hopefully find a repair shop in the morning.”

She helps me dig out the tools and stands by as I change the tire, asking questions and filling the silence.

After the tools are put away, she hands me a cold water bottle. “You look hot. Body temperature-wise,” she adds with a wink. “Not how sexy you were doing all the manly tasks.”

I drain half the bottle to hide my pleasure over that judgment. “Did our kiss give you permission to comment on my sexiness now?”

“I’ve rarely held back on the subject, given our open communication agreement. And since it was two kisses, I take that as free rein to comment all I want about your hotness. Fair warning, I have plenty more to say.”

My eyes roll. She’s dangerous in this mood. “In that case, I’ll confess that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I hook a finger through the belt loop of her jean shorts and tug her close, careful not to smear her with grease. Her breath catches when our bodies align.

“I feel beautiful when you look at me.”

God, she’s perfect. I brush her hair back from her neck and press a kiss there. “To answer your question from earlier, Jordan wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t do this before.” I kiss her again, letting desire flow through me and into her.

“Mmm." Her lashes flutter open. “What was the other reason?”

“You.” I continue to explore the jawline I’ve been salivating over for days, working my way up to the tender skin behind her ear. “Your goodness outweighs what I bring to the table.”

“Impossible.” She trembles, tilting her head to give me more access. “Even with your hotness out in the open, it’s not my favorite thing about you.” Her palm presses against my chest above my heart, separating us. Her usual twinkle shines brighter than normal. “This is.”

“You like my shirt?”

“No, your—” She catches my joke a bit late, shoving me back with both hands. “Get in the van, Hot Stuff.”

I laugh, surprised by how easily it comes. “I like that better than all your other nicknames for me.”

“Better than Cowboy and Cheesy Puffs?”

“Definitely better than those.”

◆◆◆

“How do you feel about getting a hotel room tonight?” Josie asks as the sleepy town comes into view.

My hands flinch on the steering wheel. “What?”

“Not for what your second male brain is thinking.”

Being with Josie and utilizing the van’s assets for more than transportation has been on my mind far too often these days.

“It would be nice to have air conditioning for a night and to wash the sheets and towels. The hotel might have a laundromat, or we can find one in town.”

“Good idea,” I say, though my voice sounds off, even to me.

My mind is still caught somewhere back on the side of that highway with her limbs tangled around me.

My hands in her hair and roaming every inch of her.

The ghost of my flashback still lingers, echoing like an invisible bruise.

But it’s nothing compared to the aftershock of our kiss and the feeling that I finally let go of something.

“It has been hot at night,” I offer, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“Not as hot as you, though.” She grins, proud of herself.

“You really need to stop that.”

“Why? Is it going to your head?”

And other places. I squirm in my seat.

We pass a mechanic and a laundromat on our way through the town, but no hotel. Josie finds a bed and breakfast on her phone, and we pull into the driveway moments later.

“Isn’t this the cutest?” Her hands clasp under her chin as she takes in the old craftsman-style home, its flower-lined walkway, and the canopy of trees overhead. “I bet the inside is full of antiques.”

“Let’s go find out if they have room before we haul everything in. ”

The sign on the door says Come In , so I push open the door. Josie walks in ahead of me and stops between the staircase and living room, hands perch on her hips.

“What’s wrong?”

She gestures to the rest of the open area. “It’s . . . modern. No stained-glass windows, stained baseboard trim, or twentieth-century furniture. It’s white and chrome, not brown and brass like it’s supposed to be. Its soul has been stripped away.”

“How about we talk about that in the room?”

Footsteps echo from the back of the house, and soon an older woman in an apron appears. Her gray hair is in that complicated braid where it starts on top of her head and runs down the back.

“Hi there. Welcome to the Happy Little Trees B&B. We’re big fans of Bob Ross if you couldn’t tell. We even have several prints of his work. Want to see them?”

“Well, yeah!” Josie’s sunrays burst back through now that art has entered the conversation.

We get a tour of the spotless home and the owner’s art collection, learning along the way that there’s only one room available.

“We stay booked almost year-round, but you’re in luck. We had a cancellation this morning.”

“Only one room?” The question blurts out of me, despite myattempt not to sound panicked. But I’m panicking.

“Yes. They had a family emergency. ”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Josie's hand presses over her heart like she truly feels for the family. Knowing her, she probably does. “Your home and hospitality are lovely. It’s no wonder why people want to stay here.”

The woman beams. “Thank you. Where are y’all from?”

“Virginia. We’re on a road trip, but one of our tires blew a few miles back.”

“Oh no. Tim!” the woman yells, tilting her head back.

A man about her age with the same color hair, but rounder in the middle, soon appears in the doorway.

“Howdy, folks.”

She gestures toward us. “This beautiful couple needs a tire. Call Pete and get him on it.” She comes back to us. “Pete’s our town mechanic, but the shop is closed tomorrow since it’s Sunday.”

“Let’s see what ya need. Come with me, son.” Tim waves a hand and disappears.

“We’ll get your room ready,” the woman promises on my way by. “Number four down the hall here when you’re done.”

Oh, God. Our room. Just one with Josie, her tiny pajamas, and my flailing willpower. Our kiss complicated things, not surprisingly, and I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to be now.

I hate ambiguity. Why can’t new relationships come with operations orders? Something that spells out the situation, mission, logistics, and execution plan for a successful outcome? It’s needed in situations like this where there’s more at stake than just our two hearts.

◆◆ ◆

“I think I heard the entire history of the town and everyone who lives here.” I drop onto the bed, letting out a groan. The silence is a balm to my ears and paper-thin patience.

Josie’s voice floats over from across the room. “Did you figure out the tire situation?”

“Yeah,” I answer, too tired to lift my head.

“Pete, who’s married to Candy, his second wife after the first one ran off with her high school boyfriend ten years ago, said he can fix it tomorrow.

Something about having to get it from an old Navy buddy who runs a junkyard in the next town.

Apparently, that guy has a stash of tires that might fit what we need. ”

“I think you just said more words than you have in the last two days.”

“And it hurts."

Her giggle flares something in me, and I sit up, pulled toward the sweet sound.

She stands barefoot at her easel on a patch of newspaper spread over the hardwood.

A stained-glass chandelier frames her in a halo of yellow light.

With the rest of the room left dark, her canvas is lit like a stage.

She holds a palette of paint in her left hand and a brush in the right.

There’s the cutest smudge of green paint on her cheek.

She’s focused on the canvas, every movement graceful, perfected, intentional. It’s the first time I've seen her in her element, and I could watch this side of her for hours.

“What are you painting? ”

“The waterfall.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure. It’s just a few base layers right now.”