Page 114 of The Renegade Billionaire

I follow her into the truck, and my chest puffs up with pride when she slides to the middle seat. I may even strut as I round the hood and get in.

My hand skims her knee, and I gently squeeze it before turning the ignition. “I like you here.”

“I like being here,” she says softly. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going?”

“And ruin the surprise? Not a chance, sunshine. Not a chance.”

26

MADISON

“You’re takingme to Envy’s Edge?” I ask, more confused than anything. “I’m not really dressed to sit out and watch the stars.”

He peers over at me, drinking me in, and my entire body comes alive with pins and needles. “Do you trust me?”

Such a loaded question.

“Sure.” I aim for casual, but when I shrug, my shoulders refuse to unlock from my ears. “As much as I can trust anyone I’ve only known for a couple of months.”

I’m protecting my heart, but the truth is, I think I trust him as much as my best friends, and that has never happened before.

“Not anyone,” he clarifies before taking the final turn that will lead us to the top of Envy’s Edge. “Me. Trust me, Madison.”

His tone is low and sultry and so dang velvety—the most decadent of chocolates—the forbidden fruit. And when he uses that voice on me, I want nothing more than to please him.

Please. Him. Like, what? Is that really the reaction he provokes in me?

Red flags flash—warning me of what happens when I dive too deep—but it’s too late. I’m already in over my head with this man.

“I do trust you.” The words barely kiss the air, but when his dimples flash, I know he heard me.

I’m so focused on staring at his profile—the strong jaw and perfectly straight nose—that I don’t see what’s ahead of us until the glow of the lights illuminate the interior of the truck.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

Someone’s constructed a fancy white party tent in the spot where we parked last time. Fairy lights twinkle from its ceiling, but I can’t see what else is inside it. Sweat starts to trickle in very intimate areas, and it is not at all sexy.

“Tonight is all about you,” he repeats, and when I angle my body toward his, he squeezes my knee again. “And I had a little help.”

When his words register, I look out into what should be darkness, just as Elle, Savvy, and Cian slip out of the tent.

“Traitors,” I hiss in the direction of my friends. “They told you.”

“Only after many hundreds of text messages did your friends relent and give me clues as to what your perfect date would be.”

“And you made it happen?”

This is not the action of a man who’s leaving in a few months, but it’s all so confusing because of course he’s leaving. He has a life, and a company, and it’s all in California.

“I did.” He slides out of the truck, then turns to help me down.

It’s such a small gesture, but so sweet, and he’s not doing it because Pops told him to. He’s doing what he’s done since he rolled into town—putting me first.

“Mads,” Elle squeals, starts to move, then thinks better of it and waves me closer.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“She’d be better if she’d let me be the one crawling around in there on my hands and knees. Sweet Mother of Mercy, she’strying to kill me, Mads. She is.” Cian always has an accent, but there are certain times when it’s so thick I struggle to understand him.