Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Vivian
Once Jonah gets approval from his boss, things take off.
George brings home a used van he bought so we wouldn’t be right on top of each other, and he beams as he shows it off.
I swear, I’ve never seen the man this excited about anything.
Mom told me they used to go on trips with Jonah’s grandfather before he passed away.
The van is old and dusty. I wrinkle my nose at the interior.
Maisy climbs into the back. “Get in, Vivie.”
I shake my head. I love my clothes too much.
Jonah rolls his eyes. “Sorry it’s not up to your standards, princess. We don’t all have trust funds.”
Fucking asshole. How am I going to survive this trip? “My standards? I don’t need anything fancy.” I gesture to Maisy and her dust-covered jeans. “But I’d like it to be clean.”
“I’m detailing it today.”
I’m assuming that means cleaning it. I don’t own a car. I have a driver’s license, and I’ve driven, but it’s not my favorite. In New York, there’s no need to own a car.
Even though the van is much bigger than either George’s or Jonah’s vehicles on the inside, it still looks too small for all of us to ride in for ten days without doing bodily harm to each other.
I call Frankie and update her. “Oh my God, Viv! This is the best news ever,” Frankie squeals. I pull my phone away and rub my ear.
“Or the worst,” I say dryly.
Then my best friend laughs. “You did say you’d get here by any means possible.”
“Rude. Throwing my words back at me.” I groan. “Two weeks stuck in a car with Jonah? No thanks. I’m not into torture.”
She snorts. “That’s not what you said last week.”
“Rude,” I say again. “Last week was different.” Torture had definitely been on the table.
Or rather, I’d been on the table. Being tortured.
Nothing too intense. And the guy drove a motorcycle, so at least he was somewhat interesting.
And if I imagined my stepbrother’s voice telling me to take his fat cock as he fucked me, well, that was no one’s business but my own.
After talking to Frankie, Mom and I work on planning the trip. Jonah insists on being involved, so I don’t mess everything up. Mom deserts us pretty quickly, so I argue with Jonah just for the point of it.
“No go-karts.”
“But I love go-karts,” he says like an excited puppy. Jesus Christ.
“Not happening.” I search through my phone for more ideas.
“Because I suggested it?”
I glance up. He’s got that mutinous look on his face, and I can’t help poking the bear. “Yes. Exactly.”
He grabs the notebook off the table and looks over my notes. “Colorado Springs? What are we doing there?”
“We don’t need a plan for everything, Jonah. Being spontaneous can be fun.”
“I’m fine going with the flow, Vivian. As long as I’m in charge of the flow. And I can direct the flow.”
Fuck. I am so screwed. I resist the urge to fan myself. “Weirdo.”
“Jerk.”
But the name-calling is lackluster at best. By some unspoken agreement, we’re trying to get along. It might not last. Oh hell. Who am I kidding? It definitely won’t last.
As soon as possible, I sign up for the talent show. The prize is five thousand dollars, and while the money isn’t what I’m after, it certainly won’t hurt.
Frankie texts me every day. Wanting to know all the deets.
Frankie
I can’t wait to kiss your face!
Contain yourself, doll.
Jonah catches me grinning at my phone. “Who are you texting?” Then his eyes narrow. “Is that your friend in California?”
“As if I’d tell you.”
He shakes his head as if I’ve destroyed any positive thoughts he had about me. “This is about a guy, isn’t it?”
For fuck’s sake. “You caught me, Jonah. Frankie’s the love of my life.” And since Frankie would hate to be left out of this, I text her the news.
Hey, lover. Jonah is on to us. I think he wants to join in.
Okay, but I still get to be the top.
I laugh at that, and when Jonah glares at me, I show him the messages. He turns bright red and rushes from the room.
Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.
I’m packing when there’s a knock on my door. Of course it’s open, so Jonah walks right in.
“Vivian, I—” He stops and stares.
My bed is covered with everything I might need to pack. And my suitcases. It’s a lot. But I don’t want to leave anything. If I get this job… But I am not focusing on that right now because Jonah is glaring at me.
“What is all this?” And before I can come back with a snarky reply, he adds, “We have limited space in the van.”
What he doesn’t understand is that I need this stuff for the talent show. My outfit. My makeup. My styling tools. He’d be more likely to get it if I actually told anyone what I was doing. Not that he’d believe it.
That would take me explaining that my past freakouts were never about performing in front of a crowd. But telling him the real reason isn’t going to happen. Jonah might not ask—because that would imply caring of some sort—but he would mock me mercilessly.
“Not all of this is going.” I ignore him and add things to the suitcase. Random things because my focus is on Jonah standing behind me. “I’m still deciding.”
“Whatever. Just remember, you only get one suitcase.”
I laugh as I turn to face him. His eyes narrow. “Oh shit. You’re not joking.”
He crosses his arms, and my eyes zoom in on his biceps. Breathing gets more difficult.
His hand slamming against the doorframe. His bicep right there. The dark hair of his pit. His scent—
“Vivian, are you paying attention? This is important.”
I want to tell him that I am paying attention. That’s the problem. I need to stop obsessing about this. Sure, Jonah is attractive. But he’s also a jerk. And I can’t stand him.
“What do you need all this stuff for?”
He already sees too much. I’m not giving him more. “Stop being so nosey.”
But Jonah isn’t letting this go. Do I tell him why I need the extra space? Or let him go on believing I’m a diva?
It’s not like I care what he thinks. He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. The mulish expression on his face right now is a three out of five. He hasn’t reached his limit. If he gets to a four, I’ll explain.
He studies me as if he’s trying to figure out why I’m being so evasive. He should expect this from me by now.
“Is everyone else limited to one?” I ask, waving my hand. The same one that happens to be holding a pink feather boa. I toss it on the bed behind me and turn back to face him.
A muscle in his jaw works. Is he chewing on my question? Or considering ways to leave me behind? “I only need one,” he finally says.
“Shocker.”
He ignores my comment. “Dad only needs one.”
“Again, shocker,” I mumble, mostly to myself.
“I’m not sure about your mom. And I’m not telling her how much stuff she can bring.”
“Right. You just like bossing me around.” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
He sucks in a breath and then shakes his head. “Exactly.”
“Jonah…” It isn’t a whine. I’m just exasperated with him and this conversation. And the mixed signals I’m getting. Which is probably just my brain torturing me.
“Maisy has two, I think.”
“Are you kidding me? Her clothes are tiny.”
“She’s a kid who loves mud puddles. Do you plan on getting dirty, Vivian?”
What in the hell? Is my brain torturing me? Why does everything sound like an innuendo? I bite my lip to hold in my words. Nothing I’m thinking is appropriate.
Is Jonah doing this intentionally? No. He can’t be. He’s much too innocent. I mean, he’s been through college, so I’m assuming he’s had sex at some point in his life, but he gives off these church-boy vibes. He definitely hasn’t dated much.
Right?
I push those thoughts right out of my head, refusing to think about Jonah and his dating history or the last time he had sex. I certainly don’t want him poking around in my life.
His brows rise. “Well?”
I search the thread of conversation we were having before he distracted me. Right. Am I going to get dirty?
Fuck. Don’t think about ways to get dirty with Jonah.
“I don’t plan on it.” My words come out in a squeak, and I clear my throat. “Can we agree I’m a diva and be done with it?”
“You are a diva.”
I give him my best sassy look. “Splendid. Problem solved.”
“It’s a family trip. You don’t need to dress all fancy.”
That comment doesn’t warrant a response. I’m about to turn back to my packing when he sucks in a breath. “This is about Pridefest, isn’t it?”
My heart kicks up a few beats like it’s dancing the tango. Did he figure it out? The talent show isn’t really a secret. The possible job interview is. I try to keep my expression neutral. “Maybe.”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine. You can bring two.” He holds up both hands. “One big. One small.”
My boots almost take up an entire case all on their own, but Frankie might have some I can borrow. “Deal.”
His smile is barely there, but his dimple still pops out as he shakes his head.
Let it go, Vivian. But there’s something in his eyes and that smile that won’t let me. “What?”
Jonah’s almost to the door when he answers. “You don’t always have to be the center of attention.”
When I call Frankie to ask about borrowing her boots, she starts laughing.
“Rude, sister. Extremely rude.” I push my suitcases to the end of the bed so I can get comfortable.
“Let me see if I have this correct. The farm boy told you how many suitcases you could bring—”
“He’s packing the car.” I roll my eyes, even though my bestie can’t see me.
“Let me finish.” She pauses, and when I don’t interject, she continues, “This is the important part: he told you what you could bring and how many. And you agreed.”
“What’s your point? I told you, he’s packing the car.”
She’s quiet for a few moments, which makes me nervous. Frankie isn’t often quiet. “Do you remember that time we were in Kansas City? And you told the sweet little guy at the airport that you didn’t care how he found our luggage, but he needed to get it done. Pronto.”
“Pffft. That’s different.
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
“Jonah is…” But I can’t think of an explanation for why I’m giving in to him. Not one that I’m willing to admit to anyone. Even Frankie. “He’s family.” Lame.
“Family. Uh-huh. He’s your brother—”
“Stepbrother,” I remind her, and I might have growled the word. “Can I borrow your boots or not?” I really don’t want to have to go another round with Jonah.
Frankie laughs. “Of course, boo. I got you.”
I’m relieved when my conversation with Frankie is finally over. I don’t have any answers for her. I have no idea why I’m letting Jonah get to me.
When Jonah takes over planning the trip, I complain, but it’s mostly for show. I would quickly become bored with the parts of the trip that didn’t interest me, so I had no problem letting him take over. Not that I’d let him know that.
He takes the notebook out of my hands. “This is literally part of my job.”
I scoff. “You work for an event planner. That doesn’t make you an event planner.”
“If we need anyone’s hair curled, you’re the first one I’ll call.”
Ouch. But it’s a great comeback, so I give it to him. That, and Carolynda is watching us like a hawk.
Jonah makes a chart, adding the cities and dates we’ve already discussed. Once he’s finished with that, he adds it to the family chat. I don’t like the guy—at all—but I do have a bit of a competency kink. Damn. He catches me staring, and I focus on the proposed stops he listed in the chat.
“Why are we going to a railroad museum?
“Dad loves trains.”
That’s a good reason, but I don’t say that. “A dinosaur park? Is that for Maisy?”
Jonah huffs. “Dinos are cool.”
And that isn’t cute at all. I close the app and stick my phone in my pocket. “Fine. You can plan the rest of it. As long as we make it to Pridefest by June thirteenth.”
He stares at me. Is my eyeliner smudged? I resist the urge to check. “Why the thirteenth? Isn’t it a three-day event?”
Crap. But adding some truth might make my words believable. “Obviously, I want to be there for the talent show.”
“There’s a talent show?” He doesn’t seem suspicious, more…intrigued.
“Excuse me,” Mom says, rushing out of the room.
“What was that about?” Jonah asks, staring after her.
“I have no idea.”
Jonah looks like he wants to say more. Instead, he scrubs his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
His crooked smile is playful and so unexpected that my breath catches. What is happening to me? Jonah doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m cleaning the van, so a certain diva’s clothes don’t get ruined.”