Page 52 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

I’m eager for his thoughts about that. I’m sure it’s mostly a ploy to get me naked again, but I’m curious about what he’ll say. Last night, it seemed like he was weighing his words when he tried so hard not to label what we were doing. He did confirm we weren’t hooking up. Hearing him say that was a relief. He wasn’t quick to claim I was his girlfriend though, or anything else like that, so I’m left wondering.

“And…?”

“Thinking ahead to our food coming. If you’ll be stingy and not share your pancakes with me since I didn’t order any.”

I giggle, charmed that he’s such a man. Such a goof to have not a one-track mind of thinking about sex, but sex and food.

“Do that again,” he says. “Please?”

I raise my brows. “What?”

“Laugh.”

I roll my eyes and fake a dry hardy har-har.

“You’ve got such a sweet and sexy laugh.”

“How’s a laugh sexy?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just is. Or maybe it’s just that you’re sexy in everything you do.”

I smile, so giddy about his comments.

“And that.” He leans over the table and crooks his finger, beckoning me to meet him in the middle. When our faces are an inch apart, he says, “All I want to do is see your gorgeous smile.” He kisses me, tenderly and slowly, before sitting back down.

My heart races and I feel so warm, so full of love and excitement that I do this to him. That he’s doing this to me, making me feel like nothing can go wrong.

“Aha!”

Our food arrives, and at the boyish excitement on his face, I lose it all over again and give in, smiling and giggling.

Even though it’s only morning, I’m struck with the knowledge that life has never been this good. This is going to be the best day of my life, no matter what we do. And it seems like my thoughts are manifesting. The pancakes are good—yes, I share them with him—and the bacon is so perfectly greasy and crispy at the same time. The coffee hits the spot, too.

With a full belly and my hand in Caleb’s, I leave the diner eager and excited for whatever we might do. Even though we know we need to return to Marian’s bed-and-breakfast, we stall at the antique shop down the road. It wasn’t on Marian’s fake errand list, and it wasn’t open yesterday, but it is now, and we detour there to realize we both have a secret obsession with Antiques Roadshow. We splurge, arguing about a knickknack that Marian will love enough to include in the Goldfinch’s décor. It’s fun. It’s spontaneous. It’s silly. And it’s a simple pleasure that I don’t feel guilty about indulging in when we’re supposed to return to work.

Soon enough, the “date” ends. We’re back on the way to turn onto Meadow Lane and begin the long drive up to the B&B.

“You walked up there?” Caleb asks, incredulously after my comment that the bus dropped me off at the other end of Breckenridge and that I had to foot it to the B&B.

“My heel broke, and I snapped off the other one to make it even,” I say with a giggle.

He laughs too, and I shake my head at how different my life has become. I busted a pair of designer shoes that cost thousands, and now earning my keep, I have a ten-dollar paperweight that I debated “splurging” on.

“I’m sorry it was such a hike.”

I shrug. “My glutes felt the burn.”

He brings my hand up and kisses my knuckles as we wait for the light to change. “I’ll give you a massage…”

I smile, about to reply, when I glance up and spot the car waiting in the incoming lane. The black car sits opposite us at this intersection. My heart skips and I suck in a hard breath.

Jeremy.

He’s sitting right there in the driver’s seat. I lock eyes with him and panic immediately.

The prick arches a brow and shakes his head.

“Lauren?” Caleb turns from me and narrows his eyes in the direction of where I’m staring.

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