Page 48 of The Lucky One

His mouth hitches up in his signature grin but there’s something new there, a shimmer in his eyes that makes me feel like this smile isjustfor me.

“Because Bridget Mitchell, you’re a beautiful challenge. You’re passionate…kind. Funny. There’s a girl inside there yearning for adventure and I can’t wait to see what happens when she’s ready to chase one. Would you like me to keep going?”

I shake my head and roll onto the balls of my feet. I want him to finish whatever he’s thinking with a kiss, right here in this greenhouse, so when my heart explodes, we’re alone.

He’s tipping the scales from fear to curiosity, a willingness to see ifmaybeI’m wrong and I can trust these feelings for him.

I think I can—I really do.

“There are better places for this—like my treehouse.”

We break apart like two teenagers caught under the bleachers and my eyes swivel to Violet, standing smugly in the doorway. She’s swept her long locks into a braid, flowers tucked into her hair, and a clover crown resting atop her head.

She looks like an amused flower faerie, but I’m still horrified.

“I’m sorry,” I say, brushing my hands down my face.

“Why? You’re an adult. I’ve caught Ella and Luke in here a couple of times.” She snickers when I turn a deeper shade of red.

There must be a sign on my forehead that screams ‘tease me’.

Weston hooks a hand around my waist and tugs me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. That’s it; my entire insides have gone into meltdown mode.

“We’ll pick that back up later,” he whispers in my ear.

And I think my brain joins the chaos and actually implodes.

eighteen

BRIDGET

“What did y’all talk about?”

I’m not ready to revisit the conversation in the greenhouse, yet. It seems safer to wheedle him for information about my brother-in-law.

I can’t believe Ella had Luke pull Weston aside. I meanI can. She’s the oldest of the three of us and embraces the oldest daughter role without even trying. She’s always trying to make sure that we’re okay.

There’s so much she doesn’t know about Andrew, because I’m still coming to terms with it myself. Maybe she saw more than I realized. Or just saw more than I did, period.

It’s hard to focus on red flags when you’re constantly being redirected or gaslit into thinking you’re wrong.

“He threatened to do scary things with his farm machinery if I hurt you,” Weston says, dipping a pretzel into the bowl of beer cheese.

“That’s a little horrifying.” I chuckle.

But I don’t think Luke would actually follow through with it. He’s got some bite until you realize he’s a gooey cinnamon roll beneath it all.

“He also asked if I could provide for you. If I had plans beyond football.”

This isn’t exactly in line with our earlier conversation, but it’s not casual either. It’s also entirely too early for two people that have barely known each other a week.

Isn’t it?

I swallow heavily because it feels unavoidable. Fear of not being enough and carrying too much baggage—Louie notwithstanding—wouldn’t be crossing my mind if there wasn’t more at play.

“I mean… I guess it’s probably something we should talk about. The future and all that.”

But it’s not just our relationship he’s referring to, and I’m not sure how I know that for certain other than I canfeelit. Something has shifted these last few days and being stuck in that house has been like a crash course on Weston.

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