Her face is pale.
“Clearly I’m missing something big,” I say. “What’s wrong?”
“This is just between us,” she says.
“Goes without saying.”
“Ginny’s pregnant.” She adds, “Unplanned.”
“Shit.” I take an extra look at her face. “Are you all right?”
She shrugs. “Sure. I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”
“I know. But I also know this has to hit a nerve.”
She gives the briefest of nods. “Gin said Dave was going to call you.”
“I just got back from the field, and my phone died. Maybe he texted.”
“Well, will you?”
“Will I what?”
Her eyes are looking everywhere but at my face. She’s scoping out my chest, my stomach, and now her gaze drifts lower, over the towel bunched around my hips. I smirk and make no move to get dressed. I love it that Macey wants me. She can keep looking as long as she needs to.
She jerks her head up and blushes a deep red when our eyes clash.
“Logan, will you drive to Vegas with us?”
“What will we do in Vegas?”
I reach out to touch her bare neck, and she visibly trembles.
“You and I will support our two friends as they walk through the gates of permanent coupledom,” she says in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Permanent coupledom.” I keep stroking her neck. “You say it like they’re two swear words. Like you’re spitting them out of your mouth to make sure none of the stain stays with you.”
I feel the same way she does, but I’m messing with her to try to lighten the moment.
Macey swats my hand away. “Logan, shut up, and come with me. Please?”
Without another word, I pull her inside my cottage. I shut the door behind us and then disappear inside my bedroom to get dressed and pack.
I would never say no to Macey asking me for something. Anything. But she seems different right now. She’s biting her lip and wearing that shirt, and she’s…needy. More than her usual “I want to hook up” needy.
Honestly, she’s been different ever since we were last together. But the truth is, so have I. I’ve been completely and totally celibate. Not a date, not a kiss, nothing since I made love to Macey nine months ago.
I haven’t wanted to stop and analyze why.
But with a road trip ahead of us…maybe this is a good time to sort our shit out.
Unraveling Macey Henwood’s emotions is never simple. And I can’t quite figure out how she’s feeling.
But I’ve got twelve hundred miles and one left turn to do just that.
I walk out to where she’s standing in my living room, my suitcase in my hand.
“All right. Let’s go.”
