Page 88 of Slapshot Bride

Saturday morning is off to a damn good start.

We're heading into the hills, farther than my place, past the last gated estates and into the canyon where the trees close in over the road.

I don't tell Riley where we're going.

She keeps trying to guess from the passenger seat, a coffee cup cradled between her hands and her camera resting at her feet.

The morning sun spills through the windshield, catching the gold in her hair and bringing out every freckle across her nose.

She's wearing dark jeans, a soft cream blouse, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

I keep stealing glances at her. I can't help it. She looks like she stepped straight out of my favorite movie.

Like a dream.

And somehow, I'm the lucky bastard who gets to live it.

I look ahead to hide the smile on my lips.

“Come on Easton, give me a hint…” She drawls the last word, sipping her coffee.

I cast a glance, and my heart does a double flip. She’s pouting. Her soft glistening lips are so tempting that I want to lean over to taste them.

Hell. I know how they taste. I haven’t stopped kissing her since the first time it happened.

“No, baby, it’s a surprise, and we’re almost there.”

“Just one tiny hint.”

“No.”

“You're enjoying this.”

“All part of the plan,” I wink.

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she finally looks away.

She looks out the window.

The city thins. We are heading north, into the hills.

I woke up this morning with the whole week still sitting on me.

The car in the driveway. Preston’s polished face. Riley’s hand on the door frame after.

I overheard the tail end of the call to her mom, and the way she was quiet after.

She has not been outside the house in eight days. I have been watching her, and the longing in her eyes whenever she looks out the kitchen window in the mornings.

And today, I decided it’s time she sees the outside world again.

I called a florist yesterday. Not the retail kind. A private greenhouse and cutting garden, a friend of mine owns off Mulholland, tucked into the side of a canyon, with glass walls and orchids and the kind of light that makes a bad camera look expensive.

Once I explained my need for privacy, she let me have the whole property between eight and noon today.

I turn off the main road onto the unmarked drive.

Riley sits up.