Page 50 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

“Yep. I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” she promises, and I find myself counting down the minutes until her arrival.

Once we hang up, I call Max.

“Sleeping beauty is awake,” he answers amused. “I heard the mission was a success.”

“You know it was. We spoke about it during my flight to Boston,” I remind him, rolling my eyes at his teasing tone.

“Oh, I was talking about the road trip—you and lil’ Harper are hooking up, huh? I’d like to say I didn’t see it coming, but I’m impressed that you lasted an entire trip with her. So . . . how are you two going to handle things so it’s not awkward?” Max’s question doesn’t settle well, and I feel a twist of unease in my gut.

“It’s not like that,” I respond, pulling out a sandwich from the fridge and the plate of fruit that has my name on it. I try to keep my voice casual, but the thought of Lily and our relationship being reduced to a simple hookup leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Oh, but it is. You’re going to see her during every family event—unless you figure out a way to avoid her for . . . Well, I don’t know how long Dom will be married to Cleo. They’re not exactly a match made in heaven.” Max chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction. “Actually, I’m trying to figure out how to keep her . . .” my voice trails though, uncertain on what to tell him.

“What?” There’s noise around him, followed by a muttered curse. “Asshole, you just made me spill my drink. What do you mean you want to keep her? You don’t do relationships, not even a weekend hookup. Are you okay?” His voice is laced with concern and disbelief.

I run a hand through my hair, a smile tugging at my lips despite the anxiety churning in my gut. “I’m perfectly fine,” I admit, my voice growing softer as I picture Lily’s face. “During the trip I just . . . Listen, it’s complicated and yet easy and something I don’t want to discuss with you since I haven’t talked to her about it just yet.” The words tumble out in a rush, my heart racing as I confess my feelings to my best friend.

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but I’ll be here for anything,” he promises, his tone a mix of concern, happiness, and support.

I chuckle, relief washing over me at his words. “Okay, I’ll let you know when I need a best man. Stay on standby,” I say, only half-joking as I end the call.

Leaning back against the counter, I close my eyes, my mind drifting to Lily. It’s not like I’m marrying her tomorrow, but I plan on making this more than just a road-trip fling. I want forever with her, and the thought both terrifies and exhilarates me.

The question is, will she want to be with me?

Chapter Thirty-One

Lily

The sleek high-rise comes into view as I make the short drive to Ethan’s penthouse. Sterile and soulless, just as expected. The minimalist décor boasts more dollar signs than personality. Everything is crisp edges and cold surfaces, like a showroom, not a home.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ping. Ethan’s hand finds the small of my back, warmth spreading through the thin fabric of my dress. My breath catches as we step into the foyer.

His cologne envelops me, mixing with the cozy scents of old books and leather. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he says, a playful grin lighting up his face.

The living room is all minimalist chic. White walls, sleek furniture, not a personal item in sight. It looks like a luxury model unit, not a home.

Ethan gestures to the stark gray couch. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

My knees wobble as I perch on the edge of the cushion. “This place is . . . Have you thought about adding a few personal touches to it?”

He laughs. “The walls could use some of your art, but we can talk about the décor later. Why don’t I get you something to drink and you tell me about today’s adventure with my mother. I doubt it was pleasant.”

Unpleasant is a way to put it. I don’t know how to describe the woman other than overbearing, self-centered, and demanding. But I don’t think this is the time to tell him that I can’t stand the woman and she probably hates me.

Not a great way to start this relationship—if we start one. Which I hope we do because I really like him. More than like him. I think I’m falling for him. Though I don’t plan on vomiting my feelings so I just say, “Water would be great, thanks.”

Ethan returns with two glasses. When our fingers brush during the handoff, a regular jolt passes between us.

He settles beside me, close but not touching—the air hums with possibility. I take a sip, eyes catching on the perspiration beading down the glass—a distraction from the heat building inside me.

Why are we doing this to each other? Things were so simple on the road. Does this mean that we can’t work on things now that we’re in the real world?

“So . . .” Ethan’s voice is a rumble. My gaze snaps to his. “Umm . . . Do you want dinner? What do you want us to do first? I can give you a tour of the place. Or . . .” I’m not sure if it’s an innuendo or why his voice went down to that husky I-want-to-fuck you tone, but I say, “I think you know exactly what I want.”

Ethan’s eyes darken, his lips curving into a sensual smile. “I was honestly offering you food, but deep down hoping you’d say that.”

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