Page 63 of Ticket to You

OPHELIA

Adam grabsour overnight bags from the car and gives me that same, soft smile he’s been wearing since we spent the last of the evening with his siblings. The street is dark and quiet. For the first time since we arrived here, we have a quiet moment to ourselves. Adam looks irresistible in the blue evening light which casts shadows under his cheekbones and his jaw. And if it weren’t for the heavy weight of jet lag, I would probably drag him into the nearest bush, or into the car, orwhereverreally. But instead, I’m craving curling up beside Adam and falling into a deep—and hopefullylong—sleep.

“My brothers adore you already.”

“They’re hilarious, Adam.” I laugh, thinking back to our hours of near-constant joking.

“They’re not being complete assholes, then? I know their humor can rub some people the wrong way.”

“I like that they don’t pull their punches. And they can take a punch well, too, so it balances out. Besides, it’s how I always imagined it would be to have brothers.” I stop myself, realizing how that could sound to Adam—like I’m already seeing them as my family, which would probably freak him out. Hell, it freaksmeout.

If Adam took it that way, I can’t know, because all he does is smile again.

“And your dad is just…the sweetestperson ever. And don’t even get me started on Eloise.” The image of Naomi comes to mind, but I push it away to tackle another day. “You’re really lucky, you know that?”

“I’ve never been more sure of that.” Adam reaches over and squeezes my hand as we climb the porch steps. “And to think, three months ago, my name was just another four-letter word to you.”

“What a waste of three months.”

Adam slows to a stop and turns to me. Then, he steps me backward until I’m leaning against one of the porch’s columns. His breaths are shallow, and I can see the same longing in his eyes that I feel wrapping around my insides, tangling with exhaustion.

He leans down, drops the bags back onto the porch, and grabs my face between his hands. “Let’s not waste any more time, then.” He moves them down to my shoulders, along my spine, and lands them at my hips.

“I missed you,” I whisper into his mouth.

“We’ve hardly been apart in a hundred and sixty hours.”

I move my mouth along Adam’s jaw, kiss his neck, and move to his ear. “Fine. I’ve missedthis.”

Adam shivers in response and chuckles breathlessly. “Ophelia Brooks, you are irresistible.”

Heat rolls through me, overpowering the jet lag. I slide my fingers lazily up the sides of Adam’s shirt, just so I can be closer to him. He does the same, untucking my blouse and moving one hand to the small of my back, his strong hand grasping at me. His other hand grabs the back of my head, knotting in my hair.

“Adam Abrams!”

A light flicks on, and we both jump back. My heart was already pounding, but now it’s in overdrive, beating so loud the sound fills my ears. Adam steps halfway in front of me, again acting as a barrier between me and his mother. Naomi stands across from us, arms crossed. Her sharp features look even more intimidating under the harsh porch light.

“We were just about to head to bed,” Adam says, voice as hard as stone.

Naomi’s gaze moves from our disheveled hair to my shirt, half untucked.“I can see that. I have neighbors, you know. Neighbors within eyesight.” She looks up and down the street, paranoid that someone might have seen our PDA. “I’ll show you to the guest room, Ophelia.”

“I’ve got her,” Adam says.

“I’ve gotyourbed made upstairs, honey.”

Adam lets out an exasperated laugh. “You know Ophelia is staying with me.”

Naomi raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “It’s called a ‘guest room’ for a reason.”

Every muscle in Adam’s body flexes and he reaches down for the bags. This can’t be good. “Mom, if you think–”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt, swallowing my embarrassment. I lay a hand against Adam’s bicep. “Really. It’s fine.”

I give him a pleading look.Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.A night away from Adam is worth it if it means edging over to Naomi’s good side.

Adam mirrors my expression before looking back at Naomi, his gaze hardening. “Unless you’d rather we go get a hotel room, Mom, Ophelia is staying with me,” he repeats.

Naomi says nothing, but after a few tense seconds, she steps inside and leaves the door open for us. As we walk past her, Adam gives her a warning look. I can feel her red-hot gaze on the back of my head while we climb the stairs.

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