“You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care anymore about him, just hearing James’ name surely evokes quite the reaction out of you,” he says with twisted glee, heightening my curiosity.
“Thank you, Mom, for dinner and dessert. Everything was delicious. Harper, Chloe, I’ll see you both tomorrow. Tomás and I have to get going.”
A dry chuckle echoes in the dining room. “What about me?” her dad asks.
“I’ll see you tomorrow too,” she mumbles, now curling her hand around my arm and using all her force to get me to stand up.
I awkwardly say goodbye to everyone and follow Sarina to the door.
“Drive safe!” her dad calls out, but neither of us say anything back.
Sarina slams the door behind us, and reaches for the pocket I stashed the car keys in.
“I’m driving us back to Hemp Grove. You mind?”
“Go right ahead,” I say, opening the driver’s side door for her.
I sit on the passenger side, as she plugs in her phone. Seconds later a metal techno mash-up fills the car. At first, it’s low, giving us the opportunity to hear each other, unlike the volume she had the music playing on the way here.
“Who’s James?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
She shakes her head, throwing the car into first gear.
“The reason you became my fake husband in the first place.”
At first, I’m not sure what she's implying, but then she mentioned his name the first night we met at Luxe and I piecetogether that he’s the asshole who was touching her without her consent.
Shouting over the music, I ask, “Who is he to you?”
“My ex.”
“Oh.”
“Fiancé. The guy from Luxe.”
Oh.
CHAPTER 28
SARINA
That’s not how I wanted to tell Tomás about James. But it was only a matter of time before he would find out. Especially since my dad thought it wise to invite him to Harper’s wedding.
I can only imagine the slew of questions swarming around his head right now. Neither of us have said a word since we got into the car. Not that I’ve made that possible, with how loud the music is blaring from the speakers.
It isn’t until I drive through the ranch’s entrance that he takes the initiative to turn down the music, and his voice emerges in its place. “Pull over. We need to talk.”
“Can’t we talk inside?”
“We could, but I would rather have this conversation where no one else can hear us.”
Cryptic much? Goddamn.I pull over near the bushes that line the beginning of the two-mile-long driveway of Hemp Grove.
Assuming he wants to talk about James, I decide to go first, but as soon as my lips part, he leans forward, silencing me with a kiss.But it doesn’t make the thoughts swarming my head lessen. If anything, the longer our mouths remain intertwined, the moreI want to apologize for my father’s behavior this evening, and to reassure him that James is a piece of shit and he has nothing to worry about.
So much to say, with no opportunity to. Not when he’s undoing my seat belt and bringing me onto his lap on the passenger side with ease.
I break the seal of our kiss long enough to speak. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
