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Love, Lies, and Too Many Guys

Page 107

by Erica Lucke Dean

My grin widens. “I was a Girl Scout, and even I shoplifted a lipstick once.”

“Not you.” He makes a show of looking stricken, but his crooked grin gives him away.

“I did. In middle school. My mom found out before I had a chance to use it and made me take it back and apologize. Then she grounded me for a month.”

“My little delinquent.” He sets the cooler beside the car. “You have camp chairs in there?”

“I wish.” I eye Jordan’s long legs and then my tiny car. “Guess I should’ve kidnapped your Jeep, too.”

“We’ll make it work.”

He winks, and I swear I feel it everywhere.

After shoving the basket and mini cooler into the front seat, I tune the radio to the drive-in’s frequency and climb into the back. “Come on. There’s more room back here.”

He settles in beside me and stretches his legs through the gap between the front seats.

“Comfy?”

“Not quite.” He repositions himself, draping his arm over my shoulder and sliding me over until we’re hip to hip. “That’s better.”

“Much.”

He nuzzles my ear, sending delicious ripples through me. “I’m glad you kidnapped me tonight.”

“Me, too.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “After everything that’s happened, and everything you’ve done for me, I had to let you know how much I—” The words catch on the tip of my tongue. It’s too soon. And according to Eve’s Orchid, a girl never says I love you first.

Jordan hooks his finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. “I care about you, too, princess. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

The static on the radio clears, and voices come through the speakers as the opening credits roll. “I think the movie’s starting.”

Jordan glances up as John Cusack fills the screen, then dips his head and feathers his lips across mine. “I’ve already seen this part.”

29

Only two days of spring break to go—barely forty-eight hours left in our private bubble. And with the final phase of the plan looming large in front of me, I intend to make the most of every last moment away from the prying eyes of the world.

“He’s here!” Mom yells up the stairs.

An army of butterflies bursts free in my belly as I drop the book I was reading, shove my feet into my second-favorite sneakers, and check my hair in the mirror.

My lips tingle with anticipation as I barrel down the staircase, eager to pick up where we left off last night. After almost a week of nearly nonstop kissing, I still can’t get enough of the man.

“See you later, Mom! Don’t wait up!” I slam the door behind me and bound down the front steps into Jordan’s waiting arms.

Our bodies collide, and he flinches away from the contact with a wince.

“Did I hurt you?”

“I did it to myself.” He laughs, gingerly placing a hand over his heart. “I spent the morning getting fresh ink, and it hurts like hell.”

“You got a new tattoo?”

Jordan nods and brushes a fiery curl from my face, mesmerized as he studies it in the sunlight. “I love your hair. The color is incredible.”

“It’s red.”

“It’s so much more than red—look at all the different shades in the light. It captures the entire spectrum—like a sunrise. Or flames.” He runs his fingers through the strands, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Like a phoenix rising from the ashes.”