Chapter 5 #2
If I had an addiction, it was arm porn.
And possibly abs.
And definitely the backwards hat thing.
And the smell that was currently drowning me in pheromonal despair.
“Yeah?” I finally squeaked, because apparently my voice had joined my brain in abandoning me.
A problem I seemed to be having lately.
“I asked about Old Bessie,” he said, tossing me a side-glance. “I’m surprised you’re still driving her.”
“Don't say her name like that,” I snapped instantly, regretting all my life decisions that had led me to this wedding and the sexual way he’d just said my car’s name that was doing terrible, wicked things to my insides.
Old Bessie had been the site for a lot of sex, and just hearing him say her name was sparking a flashback of Easton’s and my hottest moments.
Weird but true.
“ Such a greedy pussy ,” he growled , his hot tongue licking through my core .
Natalie , get a fucking hold of yourself .
“Well, unfortunately most of my money goes to clothes, Nerds Gummies, and alcohol…” I stammered, only being a little sarcastic on account of the need thrumming in between my thighs. “Bessie hasn’t had a check-up in, like, a year, but she’s loyal. ”
“But not tuition,” he inserted smoothly, staring out the driveway with that same annoyingly hot smirk on his lips. “Your money hasn’t been going to that.”
I blinked at his statement, a frown on my lips. How had he known that?
“No…” I said slowly. “It hasn’t been going to tuition.”
It was true. I hadn’t paid a dime toward tuition since going to school.
A miracle, really—one I hadn’t questioned because I’d assumed it was some obscure scholarship or university glitch sent from the heavens.
The grant email had been vague, the name on it unfamiliar.
I’d never questioned it too deeply because… well, I needed it.
But what if…
Surely not.
Fuck.
A horrible, gut-sinking suspicion was gnawing its way through my insides. Paying for my college was never going to be an option for my parents. I’d known all along I was going to have to take out a buttload of school loans and then spend the majority of my adult life trying to pay them off.
I side-eyed Easton, trying to study him as closely as I could without making it obvious.
I used to know his every expression like the back of my hand.
The twitch of his lip when he was holding back a joke.
The crease between his brows when he was annoyed but trying to be chill about it.
The way his jaw flexed when he was nervous.
But I was finding this new version of him was a lot harder to read.
“Easton,” I finally began cautiously. “How did you know that I haven’t been paying tuition?”
His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin that threatened to take my breath away.
“Because I paid for it, obviously,” he said, completely unrepentantly might I add. As if it were perfectly normal to pay for your ex’s tuition from your big Hollywood contract after she brutally stabs you in the heart.
My entire body locked up. My breath snagged. My ovaries simultaneously tried to riot and slap me.
I choked. Like, actual sputtering, gasping, about-to-die choking.
He didn’t even flinch. Just lifted one hand and casually placed it on my knee. Right on the soft black cotton of my leggings. His thumb started doing this soft, slow, comforting stroke like I was some kind of panicked bunny who needed to be calmed.
Another spoiler alert: it did not calm me.
“Breathe, Trouble,” he said softly, like I was being dramatic for having a full-blown existential crisis .
“Easton,” I wheezed. “Why—why would you do that?”
His thumb kept stroking, and I had to resist the urge to throw open the truck door and roll into traffic.
“After everything,” I continued, my voice rising. “After I—after we—Why would you do something like that?”
Now that my initial shock was wearing off, there was a strange ache spreading through my veins instead. One that was unwelcome and unacceptable and…fucking agonizing.
His eyes went back to the road, but his face was suddenly serious. No teasing. Just…Easton. The one who used to tuck my hair behind my ear and say he wanted to know all the ways I was broken so he could love every single one of them.
“You should know me better than that to think that just because you said you were done…that it meant I was done too,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Although, I guess the reason you broke up with me in the first place showed you didn’t actually know me that well, huh?”
I rubbed at my chest, trying to get the aching sensation to go away. “I’ll pay you back. It might take awhile…okay, a long while. Unless I win the lottery, which could happen. I knew a gi rl at school who went to a random gas station on a family vacation in Wyoming and won twenty thousand dollars…”
“You’re not paying me back,” he said, cutting off my word vomit mid-sentence.
I was very aware that I was rambling, but what else were you supposed to do when you found out that your ex-boyfriend, your very famous ex-boyfriend, had paid for your tuition…after you had broken up with him?
I sat back against the seat, huffing, trying to decide if I should be mad or just…drown in whatever the hell this was.
Generosity? Love? Guilt?
Or maybe all three wrapped in a six-foot-something, unfairly hot Hollywood package?
I needed answers. I needed clarity.
I needed to stop fantasizing about climbing into his lap.
“I’m going to pay you back,” I insisted, pulling my phone out of my legging pocket—thank fuck for that particular invention—and sending an SOS to Casey and Riley.
Easton hummed noncommittally and then mercifully stopped talking as I tried to come to terms with what he’d done.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I pulled up the message like it was a lifeline while trying to ignore the fact that Easton seemed to be paying a lot more attention to me than he was to the road.
Casey: He kissed you!
I gaped at my phone before quickly angling it so that Easton couldn’t see the screen. I definitely didn’t want him seeing the texts since they were obviously going to be about him.
“Something wrong?” Easton asked, entirely too innocent.
“Nope,” I lied, gripping my phone tighter.
Me: Why would you say that?
Riley: Well, what else would be an SOS?
Me: A lot of things, actually. If he kisses me, it will be more than an SOS situation.
Casey: What exactly constitutes being worse than SOS?
Me: Constitutes. Big word, Case-face. But, I don’t know. How about DEFCON 3 or maybe 10? I feel like you guys don’t even know me right now.
Riley: I’ll just make a note in my phone to ensure I have these rankings right for next time.
Me: Good girl.
Me: But also…focus. This may not be a DEFCON 3, but it is an emergency.
Riley: We’re ready.
Me: Are you, though?
“What are you typing so furiously about?” Easton asked as he touched my shoulder, his thumb grazing bare skin this time where my oversized hoodie had slid to the side.
I jerked like I’d been shot, and that choking sound came out of my mouth again. He laughed like this was all very funny, and the sound of it ripped through me…absolutely drenching my panties.
Fuck.
Just when I thought I might combust from the sheer volume of pent-up lust coursing through me…a sprawling mountain lodge came into view, rising from the snow like some kind of rugged fairy tale. This had to be the bed and breakfast.
Easton moved his hand back to the steering wheel as we pulled into the driveway, and I melted into my seat in relief. Maybe I was going to live after all. Maybe I’d survive this car ride without spontaneously combusting. Maybe.
The lodge stood nestled against the slope like it belonged there, its stone-and-cedar exterior dusted with snow and trimmed in pine garland.
Frost clung to the dark wooden beams, catching the light like glitter, and a soft layer of snow blanketed the grounds.
Twinkling lights were strung along the sloped roofline and wrapped around thick log columns on the porch, casting a golden glow against the silvery stretch of the late morning sky.
Lanterns lined the drive, their flames flickering warmly despite the chill, like the whole place had been pulled from the front of a winter postcard.
Beyond the lodge, snow-draped pines stretched toward the mountains, and a frozen pond mirrored the string lights above it—calm, perfect, and almost too magical to be real.
Paige and Levi had done well. Really well.
This was exactly the kind of place where you’d want to get married.
Not that I was thinking about that. Obviously not.
I wasn’t thinking about weddings or rings or what Easton would look like in a tux or what our hypothetical children might inherit from him besides the jawline of death and the ability to smirk with weaponized charm.
Nope. Not at all.
There was a valet waiting outside the double doors of the building, bundled up in some kind of bushy brown fur coat like we lived in Antarctica or something. I’d never been more relieved to see someone in my life.
My phone was vibrating like it had just snorted espresso, but I’d have to update my ladies later. Right now, I had one mission: escape the truck before Easton could say something else with that infuriatingly hot voice of his.
I threw open the passenger door like I was being chased by a bear, taking in gulps of the smell of wood smoke that lingered in the crisp air as I desperately tried to get his cologne out of my nostrils.
The valet flinched as I nearly collided with him. The guy caught me right before I toppled onto my face on the cobblestoned drive. Because, of course, this place had cobblestones. It couldn’t have been cuter if it tried.
“Wow. Are you okay?” he asked, his brown eyes wide.
“She’s fine,” Easton’s voice came from behind me, smooth and growly and entirely too territorial…
And then I was being yanked out of the valet’s arms. “The bags are in the back,” Easton added as he tossed the keys to the poor man, who was now giving Easton that squinty, do-I-know-you-from-somewhere look that probably haunted Easton’s life nowadays.
“You’re being rude,” I hissed under my breath, glancing back at the valet who was definitely starting to connect the dots.
Easton shrugged, still gripping my arm like I was his date and not someone two seconds away from spontaneously combusting into a flaming pile of unresolved sexual tension. “He was flirting with you.”
“Well, duh—” I began, ready to launch into an explanation of all of my wonderful qualities, but I didn’t get the chance.
Because the moment we stepped through the door, I lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.