Page 66 of The Escape Plan

She feels these sparks, too.

The revelation excites me way more than it should.

“I didn't mean for you to pictureme.” Her voice cracks over the words.

“Too late,” I tease, but my own voice comes out weird, like a cat being strangled. Which I’m sure is incredibly sexy.

She whacks my arm playfully, but her eyes are still wide, her cheeks still flushed. She looks around somewhat frantically, as if grasping for a change in subject. “Oh, great. Ezra’s looking over here.”

I follow her gaze across the room, and indeed, Ezra and a petite Asian woman are watching us. Ezra’s face is positively smirky, the woman’s curious.

“Is that Ezra’s wife?” I ask.

Keeley nods. “That’s Mae. They have a little boy, Everett.”

“Cute name.”

“He’s a cute kid.” She grins. “By the way, I told Ez about our gramps and your gran.”

“Was he surprised?”

“Shocked as we were.” She shrugs. “I think he’s fully invested in the soap opera now, too.”

“As he should be.” I nod my approval.

“Hey.” She gives me an almost-shy look from under her eyelashes. “I’m going to a barbecue at Ez and Mae’s place tomorrow night. Ezra says he has an old box of Gramps’s stuff for me that could maybe give us some clues about Noeleen. It could be nothing, but either way, it’ll be a fun night. Mae’s a great cook. Do you… want to come with me?”

I shoot her a flirty smile. “Are you asking me on a date, Keeley Roberts?”

I’m only kidding around, but the second the words are out of my mouth, I realize how much I don’t want them to be a joke.

Since that first night we sat together on the fire escape, thoughts of Keeley—of more than a friendship with Keeley—have pretty much consumed me. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time now, but Keeley makes me want to explore and lean into my feelings.

And I know I’m going home soon enough, but in the time we have left together, I find that I want to show her she deserves more in her dating life than what her ex gave her.

She sighs and flicks her eyes heavenward. “Of course, because all good dates involve your brother.”

“Fair.” I look down at her, my pulse picking up as I decide to take a risk. “But what if I took you out afterwards for dessert—or a drink, if you prefer? Then, could it be a date?”

My words have her flustered, and she stuffs her hands in her pockets. Takes them back out. Pockets them again. It’s adorable.

She scrunches up her eyes for a moment—almost like she’s mustering up courage or something—and then says, “Uh… not no?”

“Would youwantit to be a date?”

Her cheeks glow red, and she looks down at her sneakers. “Maybe… also not no.”

“Good.” I can’t help the huge smile that creeps across my face. I’m on cloud nine. “In that case, I’ll drive, and you can be my human GPS again. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at six?”

“Okay. Sure.”

Somehow, my smile gets even wider. “It’s a date.”

“You’re trouble, McCarthy.”

“You like it, Roberts.”

We’re so engaged in our flirty conversation that I don’t notice the applause until Ezra takes the stage. “Thank you, Whitney! And now, I’d like you to put your hands together for our final performance of the night—a very special guest from all the way across the pond. Please welcome… Beckett McCarthy!”

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