Page 44 of Forever To Me

The night I told myself was just a one-time thing. And that one time that I can’t get out of my head. No matter how much of a perfect gentleman I try to be.

I clear my throat. “You ready?”

She looks at me, then at my truck parked outside The BlackDog. “Are you asking me nicely, or are you gonna tell me you’re taking me home whether or not I like it?”

I smirk. “That depends. Are you planning on arguing?”

She grins. “Always.”

I roll my eyes and gesture toward the truck. “Come on, Red. Before you start walking and I feel obligated to follow you like some damn lost puppy to make sure you get home safe.”

She laughs, hopping up into the passenger seat like she’s done it a hundred times before. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? It feels easy. Feels familiar. Feels like I haven’t worked hard to pretend I don’t remember exactly how she felt in my arms that night.

I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, the rumble breaking the silence between us.

But not for long.

Because, of course, Violet’s the first to break it.

“You know,” she muses, resting her elbow against the window, “this is oddly familiar.”

I glance at her in surprise, pretending not to know what she means. “What is?”

She turns her head, giving me a look that says I know damn well what you’re doing.

I shake my head, shocked that her words precisely mirror what I was thinking, as I laugh softly to myself. Because of course, we even think alike.

“This,” she says, motioning between us. “Late night. You driving me home? Me, pretending I’m not thinking about?—”

She stops herself, eyes flicking toward me, watching for my reaction.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “Not thinking about what?”

Her grin is all mischief and amusement. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Red?—”

“Relax,” she teases. “I just meant it’s funny, that’s all. You, driving me home, me pretending I don’t notice how your truck smells like cedar and bad decisions.”

I snort. “Bad decisions?”

She tilts her head, eyes sparkling. “You telling me the last time we were in this truck together wasn’t a bad decision?”

I don’t answer right away.

Because part of me knows damn well it wasn’t a bad decision.

It was a mistake to let her get close. But that night? That night wasn’t a bad decision.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “It’s fine, Walker. I get it. It was just a one-time thing. No big deal.”

I glance at her. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She grins. “Oh, yeah.”

We pull up to The Dogwood. The light is on, casting a warm glow over the front of her door.

She unbuckles but doesn’t move to get out right away. Instead, she turns toward me, her expression softer now, less teasing.

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