Tripp’s chest is bare, leaving ink and toned muscle on display, his lower half donning a rarely-seen pair of athletic shorts in place of his usual destroyed jeans.
“Good walk?” He calls to me.
Koda’s ears perk up as if another walk has just been offered to him, and I huff a laugh.
“Yeah.” Taking the dog to the door, I unclip his leash and let him into the house before returning to Tripp on the driveway, tucking my hands into my pockets as I approach him. “Can I ask you about something?”
His gaze snaps to mine as he dips a sponge into his soapy bucket, squeezing suds onto the hood of the car.
“Sure,” he tells me with a thoughtful frown. “What’s up?”
“It’s just, uh…maybe it was nothing, but—” I hesitate, letting my hand scrub against the back of my neck. “You called Julesourwife last night.”
“Did I? Huh.” He shrugs. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight?”
“You’re ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” he argues, dipping his sponge back into the bucket of soapy water, “I’m asking where you want to go for dinner.”
My brows draw together, my eyes narrowing at him, and I shift to cross my arms over my chest.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned that Tripp Montgomery cannot do very well, it’s keep a secret. There’s only ever been the one that he’s been able to hold in for any considerable amount of time.
And judging by the looks shot to me in his peripheral and the way that he’s dodging my questions, he’s trying to keep a secret from me right now. It makes a two-ton weight settle into the bottom of my gut.
“Why do we have to go somewhere?” I brave asking. “Why can’t we reheat the chicken from Wednesday?”
“Because we didn’t go last night,” he tells me. His hand glides across the door of the SUV, covering it in foamy suds with a sideways glance in my direction. “What?”
“I don’t like it when you’re cagey,” I answer.
“I’m not being fucking cagey.” Tossing the soppy sponge onto the hood of the car, he closes the distance between us, taking hold of my chin before he presses his lips to mine. “Pick a place.”
Not two tons.
Three.
Studying him as he seamlessly returns to his task, now scrubbing at the car’s headlights, I turn on my heel and pass through the garage with a huff.
“Tripp’s being cagey,” I call into the house as I step through the door which leads from the garage, and he shouts his disagreement through the door as it slams shut behind me. “Hewon’t answer my questions. He just keeps telling me to pick a place to go for dinner.”
“You better pick one, then,” Jules smiles over her shoulder. Pulling a bottle of lemonade from the refrigerator in front of her, she closes the door and moves to a cabinet to get a glass. “Somewhere nice, though, so I can wear my new dress.”
My lips purse, my eyes narrowing. “The one you’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
“Just humor us,” she tells me as she fills her glass. “It’s your first birthday with us. Let us make it special.”
Putting the bottle back into the refrigerator and with a glass in hand, her hip bumps against mine as she leaves the kitchen and makes her way toward the stairs. As she nears the corner, she tucks a length of hair behind her ear, throwing me a soft smile that warms my chest.
The sound of clicking high heels pull my focus from my wrist as I secure the silver band of my watch around it, and I turn my attention to Julia as she stuffs her cell phone into a small clutch bag and secures it with a golden lock at the front.
Thin straps hold her dress over her shoulders, with soft, flowy pieces of fabric draped around her arms. In contrast to her usual style, her hair is devoid of its bow tonight, instead pinned over one shoulder. Loose curls spill over and she fluffs them at the ends as she smiles at me, her teeth sparkling against the berry-colored lipstick that she’s wearing.
In what can only be described as a complete contrast to Julia, Tripp is dressed in all black. Black shoes, black slacks, black belt around his hips; even his tie and oxford are black. He looks like a living, breathing shadow, and he would probably love it if I told him that.
A look passes between them, forcing the corner of Tripp’s mouth to quirk, and he spins the keys to the Forester around his index finger.
“Let’s load up the cage and get the fuck out of here,” he tells us.
