“I’m curious. What kind of trouble are you really into?” he asked, his voice low, like he was savoring the question.
I smirked, willing myself to stay in control. “Oh, you know, just the usual daring escapades and maybe a little light vandalism.”
His laugh rumbled through me, deep and warm, like the sound itself was a touch too intimate. I had to fight to keep my focus.
I took a step back, forcing myself to remember who I was. Who I had to be. I had to remind myself of the boundaries that existed in the game we were playing. Remember who he was, too.
I was helping Dillon. That was my focus. He was my priority. All the rest was…noise. For just a minute, I didn’t have to be the person everyone relied on, the one who always had to be strong, the one who never got to let her guard down.
It felt like a luxury I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until now. And damn it, it was so easy to fall into. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was too easy.
I quickly shoved the thought away. This wasn’t about me, not really. It couldn’t be. So why did it feel so good to just forget that for a second?
He rolls down his window, and the sound of his voice pulls me out of my thoughts like a snapping of fingers. “Hey, Sunshine! Get in the truck!”
Sunshine? What the?—?
I shoot him a questioning look, my eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Sunshine? Seriously?”
He leans back against the seat, a smug smile plastered on his stupid, handsome face. “What can I say? It suits you. You brighten my world.”
That damn Scottish accent rolls off his tongue like honey with a hint of trouble. He could say anything, absolute nonsense, and I’d probably still take it as a compliment. And worse? I’d let him get away with it. Every single time.
“Flattery, huh? What’s next, calling me Princess?”
“If that’s what you’re into,” he replies with a wink. I try to shake off the provocative comment, but damn, it does something to me.
“But I think Sunshine fits better,” he continues, not missing a beat as he gets out of the truck. He’s wearing a gray henley and a pair of dark denim jeans. His hair’s a tousled mess, like he ran a hand through it on his way out the door and didn’t bother to fix it. He strides around to grab my bag, hoisting it easily and tossing it into the backseat. “You’re less likely to throw a fit over losing a shoe at midnight.”
I lay the dress gently on top of my bag. “Ah, turns out youdon’t know me as well as you think you do. I’ll throw a fitandthe other shoe.”
That damned deep laugh vibrates through me, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “I missed ya, lass. You’re a fun one.”
He opens the door for me, and I slide in, my hand quickly pulling the sleeve of my shirt down over the bruise Dillon left. I don’t want him to see it because I’m worried he’ll care, and if he cares, that opens a door I don’t know how to walk through.
I glance over at Callan as he slides into the driver’s seat. “So, how’d you end up with the short end of the stick? I thought Knox was supposed to pick me up.”
He presses a hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp. “Am I not good enough for you?”
I roll my eyes but can’t hold back a small laugh. “Oh, please. Just answer the question.”
He flashes me another grin that could melt ice. “Knoxie Boy slept in. Seems my future sister-in-law has a bit of a wild side.”
“Oh, I love that for her. I’ll be sure to tell her you’re the one spreading the word.”
He chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Aye, go right ahead. I’ll deny it all and blame it on you. Just try me.”
The conversation flows so easily with him, like we’ve known each other for years instead of just a few brief encounters. It’s clear Callan knows how to put just about anyone at ease. He’s the type of guy who can light up a room without even trying. There’s this fearless energy about him that says he’d dive headfirst into anything just because someone dared him to. I find myself wanting a little of that confidence.
I’m staring, lost in thought, and he catches it immediately. He raises an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What? Already lost for words?”
I roll my eyes, pulling at my sleeves again as heat creeps up my cheeks. “Hardly. Just trying to figure out how I’m going to survive while trapped in a vehicle with you.”
His eyes follow my hand movements, and I immediately stop. I’m trying to hide the bruise, not draw attention to it. The moment his gaze meets mine again, his brows furrow slightly and concern flickers across his face.
“If you say so, lass,” he replies, his tone softening for a brief second. “Buckle up. It’s going to be a wild ride.”
Before I can respond, he shifts the truck into drive, slams on the gas, and we rocket forward with an almost alarming speed. My heart leaps into my throat, and for a split second, everything in my body screams to brace for impact.
