Page 15 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

“So how about this,” Ethan suggests, leaning back in his chair. “We aim for ten exes. The top ten most likely candidates who mattered. Not the guy who gave you his phone number and never called back.”

I flinch, my heart clenching at the memory. Okay, maybe that guy isn’t important at all, or England Ron, who I met during my flight to London. We had a connection—or so I thought—but that was sophomore year of college and obviously didn’t mean anything to either one of us, or we would’ve stayed connected afterward. I feel a pang of disappointment, but I push it aside, focusing on the present.

“Sounds like a good compromise,” I say, nodding slowly, my lips curving into a small smile.

“We’ll make it into a game,” Ethan says excitedly as he pulls up a new document on the screen. His eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, and I can’t help but feel drawn in by his energy. “We’ll create profiles for each ex and see who can find the most information about them online.”

I can’t help but smile at his energy, my earlier reservations melting away. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. The thrill of the challenge begins to course through my veins, and I lean forward, eager to get started.

“Let’s start with an easy one,” he says, typing away on his laptop, his fingers flying over the keys with practiced ease.

“Easier said than done,” I mutter under my breath as he pulls up a profile picture of Nathan Turner—the guy who used to sit next to me in psychology and passed notes with me during boring lectures. My heart skips a beat as I take in his familiar features, memories flooding back.

“No way,” I exclaim, shocked to see that he is now a successful fashion designer living in New York. My eyes widen, and I lean closer to the screen, taking in every detail of his impressive biography.

Ethan leans over, his arm brushing mine as he zooms out with a swipe of his finger. Electricity crackles between us at the contact, and I struggle to maintain my focus. “Or,” he says, drawing out the word like a tease, his warm breath tickling my ear, “we start with a bang—Derek in California. Didn’t you say he was the one that got away?”

“Ugh.” I flop back into the chair, crossing my arms, a wave of frustration washing over me. “Derek is like . . . the season finale, Ethan. You don’t lead with your biggest cliffhanger.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my heart races at the mere mention of Derek’s name.

“Strategic planning, Lily,” he counters, tapping his temple with a smirk. “Build up to the peak experience.” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication, and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. I swallow hard, torn between the desire to unravel the mystery of my past and the fear of confronting the one who broke my heart.

“So how about this,” Ethan suggests, leaning back in his chair, his muscular arms folded behind his head. A lazy smile plays on his lips, but there’s a glint of challenge in his eyes. “Unless . . .” His voice trails off, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re afraid you won’t be able to handle this.”

My jaw drops, and I feel a flare of indignation mixed with a thrill of excitement. How dare he question my resilience? I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze head-on. “Please, I can handle anything. Bring on the Nathans, Dereks, and . . . anyone. I’m ready.” I stick my tongue out at him, a childish gesture that only serves to highlight the playful tension between us.

Ethan chuckles, that deep, resonant sound that somehow makes my stomach do somersaults. The rich timbre of his voice is like a call to my soul, and I find myself leaning forward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“Come on, Pandemonium Lily,” he teases, using a nickname that simultaneously irritates and endears me. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he uses my own words against me. “Isn’t there appeal in throwing caution to the wind? Starting big?”

“Pandemonium?”I feign insult, placing my hand over my heart dramatically. My lips quirk up in a playful smirk as I meet his gaze. “I prefer ‘spontaneously creative,’ thank you very much.” I pause, drumming my fingers on the glass table, the smooth surface cool beneath my fingertips. “And for your information, Mr. Structure, spontaneity can have its own kind of order.”

“Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge dancing in his eyes. The intensity of his stare is exciting, and I feel my heart rate quicken.

“Absolutely.” I lean in closer, our faces mere inches apart. The air between us sizzles with an electric intensity, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Imagine all the stories we’ll collect. Life is like jazz—improvised, unexpected, and always keeping you on your toes.”

“Jazz, huh?” He crosses his arms, leaning back.

“Yep. Well, I suppose we could improvise starting from the middle and then—randomly select where to go next.”

“Randomly?” He pretends to gasp, his hand flying to his chest in mock horror. His eyes widen comically, and I can’t help but giggle at his exaggerated expression. “You dare suggest chaos to a man who was raised to organize everything?”

“Even his underwear drawer?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow in challenge. My lips twist into a playful smirk, and I lean forward, eager to hear his response.

Ethan throws his head back and laughs, the rich sound filling the room and sending a delightful warmth in my belly. “If I had any, probably,” he admits with a grin that tells me he’s not the least bit ashamed. His eyes sparkle with mirth, and I find myself drawn to the boyish charm that radiates from him.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” I tap the map, my finger landing halfway between Bridgetown and California. A thrill of excitement courses through me as the idea takes shape in my mind. “We start in the middle. Heartland, baby. It’s symbolic, it’s central, and it’s definitely not what anyone would expect.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, I just can’t in good conscience let you start from the middle. It’s not logical. We’ll find ways to . . . improvise.

“Alright, Montgomery.” I reach out and shake his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. The current between us builds, and I find myself lingering in the contact, savoring the sensation of his skin on mine. And just like that, our plan takes shape—a blend of order and chaos, just like us.

Chapter Nine

Ethan

Once we finalize the details, Lily leaves to pick up her things, and sends the itinerary to her sister—someone has to make sure I’m not a serial killer. I email everything to Max so he can help me gather some of the resources we’ll need, including the shiny state-of-the-art RV. I don’t plan on sleeping in it every night, but it’s good to have options.

It’s around two when I pull up to Lily’s apartment building. My fingers tap against the steering wheel in rhythm with the anticipation bubbling inside me. I’ve spent hours meticulously crafting the perfect playlist for this road trip. We have all sorts of snacks—a balance of sweet, salty, and everything in between.

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