“Noted.”
“And I get to control the radio today.”
“I retain the right to three vetoes that will last the rest of the trip.”
Either he’s serious, he feels bad because yesterday was so shitty, or he’s plotting a way to dump my body before noon.
There’s no way anyone who’s known me for more than forty-five minutes would ever let me control the radio while only asking for three vetoes.
And speaking of three—our three days are up. Heshouldbe trying to get rid of me.
I ponder that while I bite into a donut.
And holy fuck.
This donut.
Oh my god.
A moan rolls out of my throat before I can stop it.
It’s the perfect combination of yeasty and doughy and rich and sweet and sprinkly. Almost as good as the homemadedonuts Bea made when I couldn’t stop crying after I moved in with her. Those are the donuts that I judge every other donut against, ever.
I should talk her into having donuts as her secret menu item in her burger bus soon.
AfterI get back.
I take another bite and sigh in bone-deep satisfaction. “Okay, that’s a good donut,” I say with my mouth full.
My parents would have a conniption fit at my lack of manners.
Oliver doesn’t.
My eyes are still a little crossed, but I think he’s staring at me—in the uncomfortable way.
Like he doesn’t want to watch me have an orgasm over a donut.
Or maybe like he doesn’t want to admit he’s enjoying watching me have an orgasm over a donut.
Stop it, dumbass, I order myself.
He’s still Oliver and he doesn’t like me.
I’m still Daphne and I need to not like him.
We’re on this road trip until he dumps me at a bus station or something.
I need to figure out how to negotiate staying with him longer because I didn’t make any progress at all in talking him into going back to Miles2Go yesterday.
As the CEO, clearly.
Not as a customer who needed to pump gas at one of their stores.
Even knowing I’m fighting a losing battle, I owe it to myself to fight it.
I grab the coffee and sniff it, then take a hesitant sip.
Not bad.
