She stops, catching her breath. “This is the last episode beforethe finale. You can’t have a paint fight with me in the front yard.”
“Fine,” I agree. I grip her waist, tugging her into me. The paint-stained hand reaches behind her, gripping her ass. “And now my handprint is permanently marked on these overalls.”
Her smile is wide, and I want to lean down and kiss it.
And that’s when I feel it. The sharp ping to my chest, the way my heart races completely unrelated to running around. It’s seeing her in the open front yard, sun hitting her cheeks. The urge to say it has never been stronger.
I feel it on the tip of my tongue.
But when I open my mouth to say it, the universe chooses that moment to remind us that nothing stays perfect for long. A throat clears beside us, and Scottie turns. Her expression shifts, her face goes white, and her body goes still as stone.
She looks terrified.
She looks like she wants to run and hide.
The cameras close in on us, making me more uncomfortable than ever. I shift, facing the same direction she is, and I notice the couple Griffin was complaining about the other day at Seven Stools standing there.
Whoever these people are, they have shifted something in Scottie that makes me protective of her. I want to step in front of her and pummel these two people—whoever they are.
But I don’t expect her to say what she does, barely above a whisper.
“Mom? Dad?”
CHAPTER 31
YOU’RE ABOUT TWO WORDS AWAY FROM NEEDIN’ AN ESCORT BACK TO YOUR CAR!
Scottie
The air outside shifts so fast it feels like we’re trapped in a bubble.
One minute I’m full body laughing with Tucker, and the next my breath catches like I just ran into a wall. The paint roller goes heavy in my hand while the smile dies on my lips.
Because standing a foot away from me are my parents.
What the hell are they doing here?
“Well…” my mom says with displeasure in her voice. “This is…interesting.”
Her eyes scan me up and down, noting my paint stained overalls. She’s seen them before, but there’s definitely more on them now that we’re nearly done with the house. Then she looks at the paint on my skin before she looks at Tucker, speckled with teal paint. My stomach drops, and a thousand versions of myself filter through my brain.
Me in high school, fighting to be perfect.
Me in college, overachieving on something I didn’t want until I couldn’t breathe.
Me on camera, smiling until my cheeks hurt.
Me on FaceTime mid-project, trying not to look exhausted to avoid a lecture.
And now…me standing here on the porch laughing too loud—too freely with two large cameras pointed at me with teal paint on my cheeks.
“Are we interrupting something?” she continues, because I’m stunned silent.
I feel my body stiffen, and I still don’t know what to say. I feel as if the cameras are actually zooming in on me without even moving. The crew is quiet, waiting and holding their breath.
“No,” I manage to get out with a wide smile.
My mom takes off her sunglasses, tucking them into her purse before turning to take in the house. I literally hold my breath. I stand here, trying to hide the fact that my fingers are trembling because I already hear it coming.
