Yeah. I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now.“Why are you going back?”
“Because I talked to one of my old classmates and . . . it’s kind of a long story. But all you need to know is I’ll be back Thursday night.”
I don’t know why—it’s probably a bad idea considering the space I’ve been trying to put between us—but I’m already pulling up my calendar. The next few days are light thanks to all the storms in the forecast, and no one has called out. I’ve actually got a solid crew lined up.
Maybe this is the perfect excuse to take some time off.
Get some space from this farm.Some rest.
“Want some company on your trip?”
She’s quiet for a few beats. “You want to go with me . . . to New York?”
I want to go with you everywhere.
“Could be fun,” I say, nervous I’m overstepping. That maybe she’s as freaked-out about our unacknowledged kiss as I’ve been.
But I mentally promise myself that if I go on this trip with her, I’ll put my guard back up. No pushing the limits. I’ll go to New York as her friend and friend alone.
When she speaks again, I’m relieved to hear a smile in her voice. “It’s going to be a lot more fun now. I’ll text you my flight info. If there’re no seats left, I’ll change flights with you.”
And just like that, I’m going away with Madison.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Madison
47 DAYS UNTIL I FAIL . . .
This morning I met James in his driveway bright and early, nervous today might be awkward since we hadn’t seen each other since he kissed me. Since heawokesomething in me that I’m scared will never go back to sleep.
He came down the porch stairs with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing jeans, a cream-colored shirt, and no hat. His dark brown wavy hair casually styled. But it wasn’t the lack of a hat that had me staring.
“What are those?” I asked, stunned.
He followed my gaze down to his feet. “My . . . shoes?”
“No,shoesare what people call the generic, everyday things they wear.Your bootsare your shoes.Thoseare sneakers. And they’re stylish sneakers too! You’re going rogue on me again, Cowboy.”
James rubbed the back of his neck, caught between amusement and annoyance. “I don’t see why this is such a big deal. I’ve worn other shoes before.”
“I’ve never seen such a thing,” I said as he gently nudged measide. “I assumed you never took your boots off. Slept in them. Showered in them.”
He tossed his duffel into the back of my truck. “Naked except for boots. Nowthat’sa look.”
I did not allow myself the privilege of picturing James, butt naked, standing at the foot of his bed in only his boots.
Fine, I did.
It shouldn’t have been hot. Why was it so hot?
His sneakers—not boots—entered my vision again. He held out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving.”
“Again . . . why?”
