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She slaps the phone into my hand begrudgingly. “I hate that I can’t guilt you into anything with my pouting.”
Smiling, I place her phone in the compartment between us. “No, you don’t. You like me taking control.”
“In the bedroom, sure, but I’ll have you know I’m an independent woman,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her breast upwards. I can’t focus on them like I want to, but I can’t stop a quick glance, either.
“Oh, believe me, I know. You’re also stubborn and have to do everything yourself.” I side eye her, as I move my hand to cover her knee. “But you’re also kind, smart, resilient, and you have a talent for sucking my cock like you were born to do it.”
Zoey barks laughter, throwing her head back into the headrest. “Nice save there, mountain man.”
She picks the music, and when I see she’s chosen a Katy Perry compilation, I have to laugh. “It’s so you can learn her backlist,” she coos, batting her eyelashes at me. This woman is going to be the death of me, I swear. Either that or two hours of Katy Perry will do it.
The drive is easy, even with the music, and the conversation flows between us. We laugh about the message we both received from Cassie in our group chat last night, with a list of beach destinations we should do our ‘wedding do over’ at. Turns out, Cassie inherited my sister’s art of being subtle. I don’t even want to think about how invested the girls are in all this because that means I’d have to think about this ending, and I… I don’t want to do that.
I don’t want this to end.Truth be told, this is the most fun I’ve had in years. Zoey brings out something in me I thought I’d left behind when I became the corporate version of Harrison Clarke, but it turns out all I need is her. I’m more emotionally invested in Zoey in the few months we’ve been around each other than I ever was with Vanessa. I know Zoey, and I said we would let this run its course once her trust fund is secured, so is it bad that a part of me hopes her dad turns her down? I mean, of course I don’t want him to treat her badly. That night at her parent’s house almost broke her, and I hated seeing her unhappy, but I wish she’d accept my help instead sometimes.
“Oh hey, did you call your dad? I saw Max and Owen this week and they mentioned he’s being a bigger arsehole than normal.” I flick my eyes over to her to gauge her reaction.
I don’t miss the shift in her mood from me mentioning him. I shouldn’t bring him up because this weekend is meant to be a relaxing one, but it slipped out without thinking too much about it.
“I emailed him. He said he’d make time for me Monday afternoon,” she says quietly, and I hate the way her voice is small. Zoey might be short in height but usually she’s larger than life in every other way.
“I’m sorry. Let’s forget about that. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just know how stressed you’ve been.”
“It’s fine,” she replies. “I have to believe this is all going to work out. Otherwise, I might have a full on snotty, screaming, crying, throwing up, honest to God meltdown.”
“Itwillwork out,” I tell her confidently because no matter what, Zoey will not lose that shelter. I won’t ever let that happen.
Zoey nods, but I fear I’ve made the mood more solemn than I meant to. We travel in silence for a few minutes, when she grabs my hand and hugs it to her chest before bringing it to her lips and kissing my knuckles.
“Hey.” She taps our connected hands with her free one. I glance over at her, flicking my gaze between the road and her. “I was thinking. You know what rhymes with camping?” she asks, and I shake my head in reply. “Alcohol.”
I chortle. “I have everything covered, sweetheart. But we are not having alcohol before the tent is up.”
She hmphs. “You really are so strict. Maybe I like this version of you.”
Maybe I like you.
Chapter 38
Zoey
Campingisnotsomekind of retreat to be relaxed at. How can anyone be relaxed when you’re sleeping on dirt and there are bugs? I don’t care what notions myhusbandhas about this weekend being for me. It’s one hundred per cent for him.
Although I did melt a little when he said this trip is important for me, and so it’s important to him. I mean, emotions are big and scary, but this man feels them so easily and makes me feel them too.
To his credit, he’s put the tent up in record time. We’ve been here for thirty minutes, and somehow, we have a little cosy corner of the campsite all to ourselves, complete with tent, blankets, firepit and self-inflating mattresses.Who knew they were a thing?
When Harrison ducks into the boot of his car again and appears with strawberries and my favourite chocolate, I actually swoon out loud. “Oh my God, you have to stop being nice to me. Are you kidding with that?”
He laughs as he walks towards me, the low afternoon light glistening in his brown eyes. “I’ll never stop being nice to you, Zoey.”
See? The man wears his emotions like he wears a t-shirt. Or maybe that’s just with me. I remember him saying he never actually felt connected to his ex, and honestly, I could see why when I met her. The woman was an ice queen.
He’s so warm and honest, I can’t picture them together at all. But that whole encounter did make me think that I guess I haven’t invested much time in relationships the last few years to notice that I missed that connection with someone. I always thought physical touch was my love language, but maybe itbecamethat when I was only getting physical with people. I mean, one night stands don’t really lend themselves to meaningful words of affirmation, aside from the occasional dirty talk. Harrison, fortunately for me, provides all love languages. Seriously, the man is a fucking god.
The way he swipes his hand over his beard when he’s thinking about something near enough makes me combust every time. Watching him advance towards me with the bloody strawberries, my favourite chocolate and a smile that’s becoming my favourite thing to see every morning tells me one thing… I’m in trouuuuuuuuuuuuble.
Eh, I happen to like trouble.
