He checks his pockets. “I don’t have it.”
“I must’ve left it in your car. Can I have your keys? I’ll run and get it?”
“I’ll come with you. There’s a path around the building we can take.” Ford grabs my hand and points to a little stone path.
When we get to the car, Ford doesn’t unlock it. He pulls on my hand, turning me to face him. “Do you really like the patio?”
“I loved it. It’s beautiful. Ford, you’re always so thoughtful in everything you do for me. I admit I was a little disappointed when we pulled into Poncho’s, but when I saw the back patio with the twinkling lights, candles, and flowers, it took my breath away that you’d do something so thoughtful and personal for me.”
“Can I tell you a story?” Ford pushes me back against his car, leaning his arm against it.
“Yes, I’d love to hear your story.”
“It’s kind of your story, too. Do you remember when you asked me to take you back to the meadow?”
My neck and cheeks bloom with heat. “Yes,” I say with a smile. That was one of the best decisions of my life.
“I knew why you wanted to go. Well, I told myself I knew why. I had my doubts, but it was a way for us to be alone together, somewhere special, even if we didn’t end up making love. I got zero sleep that night because I was so worried about it. I’d wanted to make love to you since the day I bet you to have sex. Do you remember?”
“I remember. I just didn’t want to play Xbox,” I whisper. That day is burned into my memory, along with so many others I’ve experienced with Ford.
“When I bet you, I was joking because I knew you’d never say yes. But then you said yes, and you ran up to my room. I was right behind you, but I stopped at the base of the stairs and counted to ten, trying to get my emotions under control. But then you crawled on top of me and kissed me. I’d never felt anything like that with another person. You stole the Tsum Tsum toy and shoved it in your bra. You have no idea how much I wanted to reach down your shirt. Not to get my little toy back, but just to feel you.”
“Ford,” I breathe.
“When we were laying together in the meadow, and you told me you loved me and wanted to be with me, I’d never felt so loved and accepted as I did at that moment. I love you because you see me, Hannah. You always have. You don’t see a football quarterback. You don’t see the popular guy or the wealthy guy. You see what’s on the inside, and you love me for that despite all the other things.”
“Ford I—” A little yellow truck turns into Poncho’s parking lot. Before I can say anything else, Ford grabs my hand, and we move to the front of the Range Rover, crouching down and hiding. The truck slows down, creeping past the restaurant. “Can you see who the driver is?”
Ford shakes his head. “It’s too dark.”
“They’re not dumb enough to park and go inside, are they?”
“Who knows with this guy?” We watch him drive out of the parking lot and across the street—the truck parks in front of a closed dry cleaner. The driver gets out of the car and then helps a girl wearing a short sparkly dress out of the passenger side.
“Oh no, here they come,” I whisper, tightening my hold on Ford’s hand.
“We need to move.” We scoot around to the passenger side of the car.
Ford and I watch the couple walk up to Poncho’s and go inside. “Mason Bergeson,” I hiss through my teeth. I stand up to go after him, but Ford wraps his hand around my mouth and grabs me around the waist, lifting me off the ground. “I know you want to confront them, but we need to wait.”
I pound my fist on his arm holding me, and I shake my head, screaming, “No way!” All it sounds like is muffled gibberish.
“Please, Hannah, for me. We need to be smart about this. Busting in there and accusing them won’t do any good. They’ll just deny it.” Dang it. He’s right, but it’s not fair.
I pull at his hand, and he slides his fingers down around my neck. “Did you see his date? He’s with Bree Chandler!”
Ford’s lips caress my ear. “I saw.”
The sensation sends tingles down my body, and I let out a little sigh. “I won’t confront them. I promise.”
Ford relaxes, setting me down. “Thank you.”
“So, what are we going to do? Just ignore them and pretend like they don’t exist?” I huff.
Ford scrubs a hand down his face. He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell that’s exactly what he wants us to do. And that’s when it dawns on me. He didn’t react when I said Mason’s name. I push on his chest. “You knew.”
Ford wraps his arm around my waist. His lips connecting with mine. “Shh,” he whispers over my lips. “Yes. Jack and Ty saw the yellow truck in Beckett’s neighborhood Thursday night when we went over to decorate the float. We asked Beckett about it, and he told us the car belongs to Charlie Bergeson. We think Mason drives it, when he’s trying to be sneaky because he drives a very recognizable orange Mustang.”
