“Looks like it’s dinner then bed,” Cash says as Wilder tosses me the keys over the hood of the car.
“Looks like it,” I say with a smile.
We roll down the windows as the sun starts its slow descent in the sky, humid heat suffocating and heavy.
We still have a few hours of daylight left, but we decide to find the closest hotel, get some food in us, then sleep.
As Wilder’s hand finds my thigh, I glance over at him.
I was wrong about him for so many years.
Thank god Cash went to Europe last summer.
If he hadn’t, I never would have fallen in love with the love of my life.
I don’t believe in fate like Jill Winthrop does.
But damn, sometimes I think I should.
Chapter Seventeen
The Love Confession
Ingrid
“I’m so tired,” Wilder groans as he flops onto our shared bed. Cash is on the other bed, checking his messages.
“Anything from Britta?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I told her I was coming to see her, and now she’s been MIA.”
That can’t be good.
“I’m sure she’s just excited,” I lie.
Cash gives me a side-eye. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”
“What would help me sleep,” Wilder interjects and yawns, “is silence.”
“Guess you shouldn’t have been up all night last night,” Cash returns.
“Guess you should start sharing the driving duties,” Wilder grumbles.
“What about Ingrid?” Cash retorts.
I roll my eyes. “You throw a bitch fit every time I sit in the front seat, Cash.”
“I do not,” he says, placing a hand on his chest as if he can’t believe I’d have the audacity to accuse him of such a crime.
“You do, too,” I argue with a laugh.
Cash stands from the bed, looking uneasy.
“I just don’t like feeling left out,” he says.
“You’re Cash Allred,” Wilder groans. “No one leaves you out.”
Cash opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing whatever he was going to say.
