“Wow. Charlotte.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I can’t believe it’s you. You look?—”
A high pitch bark breaks the moment. I turn my head to discover a dog launching from the truck, headed straight toward me.
“Ember, stop!” Kez lunges for the leash, but the corgi is already sniffing my ankle boot with intense concentration.
Appreciating the distraction, I kneel to scratch behind ears too large for her body. “Hi baby. You’re so sweet.”
“Sorry. She’s my—she’s training. It’s complicated. And temporary.”
The corgi, appearing not more than a few months old, licks my outstretched hand and flips onto her back for more rubs. “She’s the cutest thing.”
“More like a menace,” Kez mutters.
“I have some boxes if you have the space.”
Kez scoops up little Ember. “I do. Let me put her back.”
We work in silence, loading my things into the truck bed. She lifts the final box before I can reach for it and I catch myself gawking at her arms, the fabric tight against her biceps. I force my gaze away. Old habit.
Once the truck is loaded, she holds the passenger door open for me. Our eyes meet for a brief moment during the inevitable awkward smile exchange before I climb in.
Kez’s truck smells like maple syrup. The kind her family bought in bulk from Vermont. Thereal stuff, she’d call it. Does she make another woman Belgian waffles while dancing in boy shorts and an oversized T-shirt? Using tongs as a microphone on Sunday the way she did with me? My chest tightens, a flush creeping up my neck, then I stare out the window. Why do I even care?
But my body never forgot. During late nights alone in every unfamiliar bed in a new city, I thought of her. The smell of her freshly showered skin. Her tongue lapping feverishly at my clit, cold granite counter against my bare ass while the playlist she made me hummed in the background.
Everything tastes better after sex.Her words teasing in my ear, breathy and commanding, my thighs still trembling from the night before.Especially you.Then her mouth trailed lower.
I thought I was overheating back in the car. My skin is on fire now. I squeeze my legs together and let out a slow breath. Are we there yet?
Kez slides into the driver’s seat. I buckle my seatbelt. The tires crunch over gravel as we pull onto the main road. Less than one hour until I get to the cabin and all will be better—minus the car in the ditch.
When she catches me staring for the third time, I fix my gaze on the scenic overlook. I can survive thirty miles in a vehicle that smells like every Sunday morning I tried to forget.
Who am I kidding? I should’ve asked for the tow truck.
CHAPTER 4
KEZ
Charlotte Harrington isin my truck.
She’s tanner than I remember. Same big hazel eyes that always saw right through me. The same bright smile that would steal hearts in every room. Especially mine. She radiated confidence back then, but there’s something different now, a new glow of elegance and self-assuredness, like she finally figured out she was the sun and stopped waiting for permission to shine.
She’s been stranded on the side of the road for who knows how long, and somehow she still looks like a magazine cover model. I tighten my grip at ten and two, hoping my nerves settle. Precious cargo and all that.
Muscle memory serves me well. I don’t need GPS to tell me to continue straight for the next eleven miles. There’s only one way direction from here so I continue north on Mistletoe Mountain. Meanwhile, I search my brain for an appropriate topic of conversation when your ex is sitting eight inches from you. How’s Eli? No. Have any children? No. Weather. Talk about the weather. It’s supposed to snow, but then again, it’s hard to believe the reporter’s accuracy as of late.
I keep my eyes on the windshield, but I’m painfully aware of everything Charlotte does. The way her hands rests in her lap. The lull of her breathing. The empty space between us that feels like all the words I never said. And her effect on me even after ten years.
Thankfully, she speaks first. She tells me about traveling around the world, a woman named Rory whose life appears more entertaining than my favorite reality show,The Final Summit. Her photography business. No mention of Eli or if she’s dating anyone else currently. Not that it matters.
She tells me her street address. Obviously, her directions are wrong because it’s mine. Shit. Should I say something? No. Fifteen minutes in and this ride is already awkward. The last thing I want to do is embarrass her. She’ll figure it out soon enough.
“I got into a bidding war for my place,” I say when she brings up remodeling her new home. Might as well commiserate about the hellscape that is today’s housing market. “Some asshole kept jumping the price in increments that made no damn sense. Fucking ridiculous.”
“Hmm,” she responds, seemingly not interested in this topic. Charlotte’s voice softens, but she sounds almost defensive. “Maybe they really wanted it.”
“Or maybe—” I start, but stop myself. Did I say something wrong? I try again. “I’m just saying maybe they didn’t need to throw their entire bank account at it.” Like I did.
