Page 295 of Don't Tell (Don't 1)


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I curled under the covers and rested the wine glass next to the bed.

Instead of picking up my journal I reached for my laptop. It had been a month. More than a month, and I had resisted all my instincts to research Vaughn. Until now.

I didn’t have all the details. I didn’t have a picture of his past or the experiences of his life. I was selfish, but I wanted them.

I typed his name into the Facebook search bar. I waited for his picture to pop up.

Nothing.

I scrunched my nose and tried Instagram and lastly Twitter.

Nothing.

I started an internet search next. I came up empty. Vaughn Hunter didn’t show up anywhere.

I closed the computer and sat back. I realized not all guys liked to be on social media. And they liked being tagged and linked even less. He was a private person. I knew that. But I chewed my bottom lip, trying to figure out how I would ask him about it.

I couldn’t mention it without revealing I had tried to find him.

The question I had to answer for myself was, what difference did it make? Did it matter if I couldn’t find pictures of Vaughn online? Maybe I was spared the awkward pain of seeing him with an ex-girlfriend. What would I get out of scrolling through pictures of him with another woman?

My phone chimed with a text.

I picked it up.

Thinking about me?

I smiled.

Maybe.

I wasn’t ready to tell him that I couldn’t think about anything other than him. I knew it was too soon. I knew a month of dating and sleeping together wasn’t long enough to bare my soul. Even though it was as if Vaughn knew my soul. He knew parts of me no man had touched. Pushed me to a ridiculous Internet search. I was embarrassed.

Want to go somewhere this weekend?

I stared at the phone. Was he asking me to leave town with him? I scrambled through the schedule in my head, dying to tell him yes.

What were you thinking?

My responses were much calmer than my feelings.

I know this place a few hours away. Lots of wine.

I held the glass I had poured. He wanted to go to one of the wineries. I’d heard people at work talk about them. Fall was apparently the best time to go. Holy shit. I imagined an entire weekend with Vaughn on vacation.

I’d love to go.

He typed back quickly.

I’ll make the reservations.

Perfect

I had a deposition on Monday with Lana Foley, but I could still make this work. I’d have to tell Vaughn we needed to leave earlier on Sunday, but I wasn’t going to say no. I’d work my ass off the rest of the week to prepare.

It was the without a doubt the most intimidating and daunting case of my life, going up against a U.S. senator. But Vaughn was just as important. I thrived with him. I needed him. A flash of hesitation whipped through me. Was it irresponsible to put Lana’s case behind my relationship with Vaughn?

I convinced myself I wasn’t doing that. I had the rest of the week to prepare. And it wasn’t as if a deposition was the same as being in the courtroom. I had a long way to go on her case. This was only the beginning. The first stride in the marathon. Right now I wanted to spring to Vaughn.

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