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"Yeah. But then he showed me some photos of Andrew, and he was beautiful, too. I've obviously inherited impeccable genes that have contributed to my out-of-this-world attractiveness, but I can't say for surewhoseimpeccable genes."
"I can think of one trait you didn't inherit."
"What's that?" I ask.
"Modesty."
"Pfft." I wave my hand. "One thing I learnt from my mother is not to make yourself smaller for anyone else. I'm not perfect. Far from it. And I'm always the first to cop to my mistakes and occasional shortcomings, but, mate, when I'm good, I'm fucking brilliant, and I refuse to dim my light for anyone."
Col loops his arms over my shoulders. "I fucking love that."
I smirk. "Don't be jealous."
He throws his head back and laughs so loudly I feel his happiness all the way down to my little toes.
As he brings his head back, I swoop in and steal a kiss. I take my time, enjoying everything about it. I can't have Col forever, but right now, he's all mine.
After a few minutes, he draws back and says quietly, "I kinda wish I didn't have to go back."
"Go back? Where?"
"Back to Scuttlebutt."
"Why would you be going back to Scuttlebutt?"
"Uh, well"—his eyes drift to my plane—"Since I can't go in that thing…"
"We're not going in that thing." I take his hand in mine. "I'll drive."
"Wilby, no. That'll take hours. You have kids at home waiting for you."
"Gran's there, so they'll be fine. Bridgette will be in her room doing her homework, while Kolby will be playing video gamesand not doing his. That'll all be waiting for me when we get there."
"Are you sure?"
I squeeze his hand and stare into his beautiful eyes. It's cute that he thinks I could ever let him go. "Yes. I'm sure."
11
Col
I feel guilty about making Wilby drive instead of flying back to his family. But if he's bothered by the inconvenience, he certainly isn't showing it.
"Let's put on some tunes," I suggest, once we hit the open road.
He beams. "Well, if you insist."
The first few tracks are mid-tempo numbers, so Wilby keeps the singing to a tolerable volume, while I let my thoughts float. So much happens in just a few hours with Wilby, it's like he packs weeks' worth of stuff into a single day.
Various things flicker through my mind—Mom, Dad, my life, this trip, work, my life back home, Scuttlebutt, Betty the cow, last night's sex marathon. It's a messy stream that I don't try to control. I just go with the flow of it.
Until my music streak good luck ends.
And it ends in an epic way.
With, quite possibly, the worst song to come on in a car with a person who's under the impression he's a singing god.
Bon Jovi's "It's My Life."
