Page 80 of Weston’s Treasure

“Good, baby, let’s get back on the road before my mom sends out a search party.” I flinched at his statement and Weston’s head tilted. “Silver—”

“I’m not gonna freak out. I just feel bad we’re late. Not the first impression I wanted to make.”

“I was joking. Mom and Dad understand my job is unpredictable. I didn’t tell them an exact time.”

I nodded because that was a good thing. Weston hadn’t planned on the detour to the florist, nor had he budgeted time for a second stop to the liquor store. And he certainly hadn’t taken into consideration at both stops I’d pitch a fit when he refused to allow me to pay for his mother’s flowers or the bottle of his father’s favorite bourbon.

I’d given in both times, if him pushing my hand away and thrusting his card at the cashier was considered giving in. After the bourbon debacle, I would’ve let him have it and was fully prepared to demand he stop acting like a macho, alpha asshole, when he calmly explained I was taking an unpaid leave of absence from work. I also had all new household wares and furniture to buy in the near feature and I didn’t need to be wasting a hundred dollars on a bottle of liquor.

That meant I’d spent the next hour thinking about my apartment and what I was going to do with its contents and where I wanted to live instead of thinking about who drank bourbon that costs a hundred dollars a bottle. In that hour I was no closer to figuring out where I wanted to live or how I was going to start my life over—buying everything new—but I did come to the conclusion I couldn’t ever live in that apartment again. Not after someone had been in there, totally violating my privacy and security.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I finally answered.

With a gentle lip touch, Weston pulled away and helped me back into the Suburban. Why I’d jumped out in the first place was a mystery. What, was I going to make a mad dash and run home? So embarrassing.

Weston pulled back onto the highway and immediately my nerves started. I wanted to drill him about his parents, ask if there were any topics I should avoid. I had a hundred questions but I didn’t ask. I figured I’d made myself look crazy enough for one day. Instead, I decided on a safe topic, like my job.

“I only have four days left until I’m back on rotation.” I told him something he knew, considering not only had I used his phone to call my boss, but I’d already talked to him about what was said.

“Yep.”

His clipped reply had my head snapping in his direction. He didn’t sound all that happy about me going back to work, less so now than he had when I first told him.

“I was thinking on our way back, we could stop and get me a phone. Work will issue me a new one, but I still need to replace my personal one.”

“We’ll stop.”

“Everything all right?”

He didn’t answer and every second that stretched made my stomach uneasy.

“Weston?”

“We’re here.”

Weston parked at the curb and I glanced out the windshield wondering which house belonged to the Beils. The neighborhood was beautiful, all of the homes well-kept, with perfectly manicured lawns and colorful flowers still in full bloom.

I didn’t have to wait long before a stunning, older woman stepped out onto a porch, a beautiful, broad smile I’d seen plenty of times when Weston grinned at me.

“Ready?”

“You’re sure they’re gonna like me?”

Weston’s lips twitched and he nodded. “Positive.” His hand shot out, hooked me around the back of the neck, and his mouth met mine halfway. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” he murmured before his lips were on mine.

The kiss was hot, involved tongue, but short. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed as I always was when Weston pulled his lips from mine, or thankful he had the self-control not to make out with me while his mother was watching from the porch.

When his eyes danced with knowing humor, fully understanding my dilemma, he winked. And it was then I decided I was totally disappointed.

“Later,” he mumbled, and righted himself in the seat before he cut the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Wait until I come around.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d opened the door for me. He’d done it each time we’d stopped and if I thought about it, he always came to my side of his Jeep. Even if there wasn’t a door to open, he still helped me down. I liked that, liked that he was always considerate.

We were halfway to the porch, walking hand-in-hand, Weston’s mom now rocking on her heels excited to see her son, when Weston leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Brace, babe.”

“What?”

“Didn’t want to freak you out more than you already were but my mom’s a hugger.”