Scottie snorts. “We should all be so lucky.”
“I’m not shutting up,” Jake says. “You’re in my ride.”
“A ride I didn’t ask you for,” Oliver says. “So unless you’d like to explain why you came to pick us up with Scottie, I don’t really care what you think.”
I arch an eyebrow at Oliver. I’ve seen another side of him now—a sweet, protective side. One that snuggles. But there’s no doubt this is a side of him, too. Now that I understand him better, his abrasiveness doesn’t rub me wrong. It kind of amuses me, honestly.
(Is that a red flag? I really hope it’s not a red flag.)
“Scottie didn’t rent a car at the airport, so she’s at the mercy of her family to drive her around,” Jake says.
“Last I checked, you weren’t family,” Oliver says. I wonder if he knows his thumb is rubbing circles on my calf. “In fact, aren’t you from Philly?”
Jake shrugs. “So? My best friend just had his first kid, and believe me: my family doesn’t care where I am. I’m an honorary Quinn.” He reaches a hand to pinch Scottie’s cheek. “Aren’t I, Scottie Grace?”
She slaps his hand away, and I say, “Wait, is Grace your middle name? It’s mine, too!”
“Ha!” Scottie says, using the seat to turn around before seeming to catch herself from being too enthusiastic. She adjusts her glasses. “Did half your grade have Grace as a middle name, too?”
“Yes,” I laugh. “There were literally two Poppy Graces in my grade.”
Oliver snorts. “Could be worse,” he says. “Your name could be Jake.”
“Hey,” Jake says from the front seat. “What’s wrong with my name?”
“There are about a hundred pro ball players named Jake, and every one of you thinks you’re the next Babe Ruth,” Oliver grumbles.
Scottie howls with laughter. But Jake just snorts.
“Jealous, Coach?”
“Not remotely,” he says with conviction. I study his face and realize he’s serious.
He’s not jealous. Not of Jake’s career, not of his fame, not of any of it.
Did something change? Or is this how he’s actually felt all along and he’s finally admitting it to himself?
His thumb starts rubbing circles on my calf again, and this time, it feels different.
He’sdifferent.
I’m tempted to call him happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FLETCH
I’m in trouble.
Deep, potentially hazardous-for-your-health style trouble.
Because somewhere between Denver and Jake Rodgers’ mansion-on-wheels, between a kiss in Kansas and a crash in Ohio …
I fell for Poppy Grace Lewis.
Hard.
I knew she was infuriatingly cute—saw that before we were even on the plane—but I didn’t know her beauty would have the power to steal my breath. And I never imagined that a simple wrinkle of that adorable nose could fill me with a need to pick her up and squeeze her close.
