Page 22 of The Road Trip Romance

Anissa: I will need more information than “going on a road trip with four movie stars—will call later.”

I laugh at all the messages and then quickly get showered and changed. I had packed last night, and my guests are all packed already, so I suppose we’ll be getting this road trip started pronto.

I walk downstairs to find all four men sitting around my kitchen table drinking coffee and eating breakfast.

“We helped ourselves. Hope that’s OK,” Penn says with a sheepish grin.

“Well, if I wasn’t feeling like the mother on this trip, I am now,” I laugh as I walk over to my coffee maker and grab a mug.

Tate comes up next to me and his arm brushes against mine. He leans toward me, and I feel my breath hitch. He smells of soap, aftershave, and a woodsy deodorant or cologne of some kind.

I swallow as I wait for my coffee.

“I left you toast and eggs in the microwave,” he says quietly.

“Thanks,” I reply as I pour sugar into my coffee. I take a sip and groan. Tate’s arm tenses against mine and I look up at him. His eyes are fixated on my lips.

“What?” I say, reaching up to see if I have coffee on my face.

He shakes his head, effectively pulling himself from some sort of trance.

“Nothing…uh, should we get the car loaded?” he asks as he takes a plate of food from the microwave and hands me a fork.

“Sure. Let me just scarf this down and we can get everything packed,” I state before taking a big bite of eggs.

“These are really good,” I add with my mouth full.

“I know. You need to add a shit ton of cream and beat the hell out of them,” Penn says. “I’m going to start loading the car.”

“Oh, I didn’t unload it yet. Just throw everything in the back into my garage,” I offer as I continue eating. Everyone gets up and Penn hands Tate his plate.

“I got this. Tetris is my favorite game,” Penn says with a laugh as he walks toward the front of the house as I hear the three other men shuffling around my kitchen behind me.

I chug more coffee and then shovel the last bite of the egg into my mouth before washing my dish and putting it away. I look around and realize everything is clean.

“Oh, I was going to clean up before we left,” I state as I realize Tate has washed up the other dishes and stacked them in the drying rack.

“All done, M,” he says with a grin. His hand reaches out and I feel his finger swipe next to my lip. “You got a little something here,” he whispers as he pulls his finger back and sucks a piece of jam off it.

“Holy shit, that’s hot,” I think to myself.

“You think?” he asks before giving me a wink and walking past me.Fuck, fuckity, fuck.I just said that out loud.

I groan. This trip might become a form of torture if he keeps doing things like that. I mentally tally how many months it’s been since I’ve been on a date. Nope, I do not want to do that because that is double-digit numbers. I don’t even want to consider how long it’s been since I had sex, hell, got to third base. I frown trying to remember the last time I even got kissed. Was it Chad or Michael? Chad…I think.

I look around and make sure everything is put away, double-checking the locks on things as I make my way out to the front. All four of my guests are crowded around the back of my car.

I strut up to them and find they are engaged in a debate about how to stack their bags.

“The big one has to go on the bottom,” Penn protests.

“No, sideways,” Rex insists.

“What if we slide it against the back?” Tate offers. I look to Jordan who seems to be the only one not engaged in this argument.

I roll my eyes. “Is this everything?” I ask them and receive nods. In less than a minute, I have the bags repacked. I go to lift the last one, and Tate’s hand covers mine.

“I got it,” he assures me, but I don’t move my hand from under his and he doesn’t move his for a solid four seconds. Do you know how I know that? Because I counted, one…two…three…four.

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