“You’re huddling in the corner like a frightened rabbit and it’s making me nervous,” Sean said from the driver’s seat. His hands gripped the steering wheel and Lily tried not to notice how white his knuckles were.
There was no music playing on the stereo and the only sound was snow pelting the windscreen and tyres rushing over slushy ground. The car had proper winter tyres on, Sean had assured her, but the combination of the weather and the fact that he’d never driven on the right-hand side of the road did not make for a relaxing ride.
“Apologies for being aware of my mortality,” she said, cringing as they drifted again. “It’s a little hard not to be when I feel like we’re about to side-swipe oncoming traffic.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not questioning your abilities,” she said. “But these are pretty rough conditions for an experienced driver who’s used to this weather, let alone someone who complains when it drops below eighteen degrees Celsius.”
“How do you know I complain when it drops below eighteen degrees?” he asked in a way that told her that was exactly what he did. “Actually, don’t answer that. Can’t you distract yourself? Have something to eat. I put some snacks in that shopping bag on the back seat.”
Lily turned to grab the bag. It might have been a mistake, however, because the action brought her closer to Sean and he smelled far better than any human should after so many hours in the air.
He’d always smelled good. Back in high school it had been a combination of saltwater and coconut surfboard wax. And he always looked like he’d just come from the beach, too—dark hair slightly long and shaggy, skin bronzed, body honed from hours on the waves. There’d been an ever-present surfer bracelet on his left wrist, made of black lava beads, that he never took off.
The whole bad boy surfer vibe had totally appealed to the tiny seed of rebellion under Lily’s perfectly polished good girl persona. She’d done all those silly teenage things, like signing her first name with his surname and doing those ridiculous “equations” to see if they were a good love match.
And then he’d started dating her friend, which had relegated Lily to quietly pining over him while writing her romance novels.
“Found anything?” he asked.
Shaking off the memories, she grabbed the bag and pulled it between the gap, situating it on her lap. Inside was a variety of brightly coloured bags and boxes. Sour Patch Kids, Starburst, Hershey’s Kisses, Reese’s Pieces.
“This is a cavity waiting to happen,” she said, and Sean raised an eyebrow.
He was right about you. You are the “Antithesis of Good Times.”
“Hey, if judging my dietary choices helps you relax, then I’m happy to be of service. But I was always under the impression that road trip snacks should look like something a hungry ten-year-old picked out.”
“You certainly achieved that.” She picked through the bags and found some Sour Patch Kids that claimed to be tropical flavoured. Tearing open the bag, she popped one in her mouth. Watermelon sourness hit her tongue and she winced.
Sean kept his eyes on the road, but an amused smile tugged at the corner of his lip. Gosh, he was obnoxiously handsome. And funny and sweet. And he would never make a woman feel like she was worthless.
“Brock is getting married.” She blurted out the words before her brain had time to catch up with her bruised and battered heart.
“What?”
“It was all over the front page of US Weekly.” She let out a groan and stuffed a few more Sour Patch Kids into her mouth, almost as if punishing herself with the sourness. “Mum already texted me. The whole family will know by now.”
Bless her mother. She wasn’t a gossip, but the woman had a filter thinner than a piece of wet tissue paper. Undoubtedly, she would have ranted to Lily’s dad and her aunt and uncle as soon as she saw the article.
Can someone point me to a rock I can crawl under?
“Who cares what anyone thinks,” Sean replied. “The only thing that matters is how you feel about it.”
How did she feel about it?
Hurt. Betrayed. Ashamed.
Because Brock really had fooled her. For the three years they were together, she believed she was falling in love. At least, the early days felt like love. If she was being brutally honest, the past year had hinted at some cracks. They’d both been working more than they’d been together, with him travelling for jobs and her hiding away to meet deadlines. She’d thought it was nothing more than them “making hay,” as Brock used to put it.
Success demanded sacrifices of them both, so she’d told herself not to worry.
But if there was any truth at all to how he’d claimed to feel about her… then he wouldn’t already be engaged to someone else.
“Whatever,” she muttered. “I dodged a bullet.”
That’s how she would have to console herself. Because if she had married Brock at some stage and he pulled this crap afterward, then that would be so much worse.
“Want to tell me how you really feel?” Sean didn’t look over, because he was concentrating on the road. She felt like he cared about her answer, however. “Pretend for a minute that you’re not the person who has to be polite to jerks for the sake of your career. What would you say then?”
“I’d say that I hope his pants split while they’re doing the bridal waltz,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Sean’s hearty laughter boomed in the car and it pulled her out of her funk just a little.
“You can do better than that,” he teased.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I hope they release doves into the air during their wedding ceremony and everyone gets crapped on.”
“Good one. What else have you got?”
“Uh…” She thought about it. “I hope wedding crashers come and eat all of their cake.”
“Oh, that’s low.”
“I hope he forgets to pull up his fly after going to the bathroom and then he walks down the aisle with it open.”
She was being silly, but it felt good to let it out.
“I hope he gets left at the altar.” Okay, so maybe that one wasn’t so silly. It would serve Brock right. Let him see how it felt to be humiliated in front of an audience. “He deserves as much.”
“He deserves more than that,” Sean replied, with darkness adding an edge to his voice. “Much more.”
“Why couldn’t he have waited until after Evie’s wedding to do this?” She let out a long sigh. “My parents are going to be fussing over me all weekend now. And if one more person asks me what it’s like to date an actor, I’m going to stab myself in the eye with a toothpick.”
“You really have a way with words.”
“Thanks,” she grumbled.
“My offer still stands. I’m happy to be your diversion tactic.”
Why did it sound so tempting? Because she knew her mum and dad wouldn’t ask about an ex if she was currently with someone. Not to mention that people wouldn’t look at her with pity if she had a hot guy on her arm, and it would make her feel like less of a loser if she appeared to have moved on.
If she pretended to date Sean, she could act like the whole thing with Brock meant nothing to her.