Page 115 of Promise Me Not

Chuckling, I buckle him in his seat, and she rolls over the stroller, helping me lift and clip it into place.

“I take it Nana Johnson is stealing him?” She smirks.

“Nana?”

She shrugs. “Cute name for a grandma, don’t you think?” She smiles, then someone calls her name. “Duty calls. Literally.” She snags a diaper from the tray on the wall. “See you tomorrow!”

She takes off like nothing. Meanwhile, I’m halfway to panic, but when I step outside and join the others on the grass, the mere expression on, well, every single Johnson face is enough to drown it out.

It’s clear as day how much my son means to them.

They love him.

Mason loves him…

I swallow, catching his eye, but his smile quickly moves back to Deaton as his mom lifts him from the seat I just put him into.

“Okay, shoo.” She turns away from us. “Call me later. Or don’t. I assume all we need is in the bag.”

I open my mouth, but only a laugh comes out, and I nod. “I mean, yeah.” I look to Mason.

“You can’t have him all night.” He frowns. “I hardly got to play with him, and they leave tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh. Bye.” And off they go, my infant son in their arms.

My shoulders fall, and I sigh. “Well, shit.” I glance up at the man beside me. “What now?”

He frowns after them for a moment but then swings his head my way with a grin.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He takes my hand, and I let him lead me where he wishes.

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutelyyes.Come on, girl. Get that booty in here before I lift and lower you myself.”

I chew my lip, eying the ATV with distrust. “There’s roll bars.”

“What are you, a girlie girl or something?” he teases, well aware of my pageant days, forced or not. “Come on. I’ll even let you drive.”

“Hell no. Then we’ll really be in for it.” I look to the other couple climbing into one on the left and say screw it, settling into the seat and strapping myself in. I glare at the man beside me. “If we flip over…”

“Don’t worry, baby. If you get hurt, I’ll kiss it better.”

He’s teasing, but his words are like a flame across my skin, and I face forward to hide it just as he slams his foot down on the gas.

I hold on tight, stiff as a board for the first minute or so, but then I start to relax, and fear turns into fun, leaving me laughing. I knock my shoulder into his. “Go faster! We’ve almost got them!” I shout over the whine of the engine.

“Hold on, Pretty Little.” Mason floors it, whipping us through the grassy track, dirt kicking up and hitting the goggles on my face.

I’m suddenly super glad I put on the ski goggles like they suggested. We thrash through the brush, and I squeal when we are airborne over the next blind hill, coming down in a bouncy crash without missing a beat.

We’re coming up to the end of the path, a giant checkered flag coming into sight, just as the other ATV barrels through the split in the trees across from us.

They look our way, and we look at each other.

“Go, go!”

“I’m going! We’re winning this one!” he screams.

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