Page 14 of Personal Escort

He grunts quietly. “I should probably tell you more of mine, balance that out.”

“Have you ever been arrested?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“But you hate New York, right?”

He looks sideways at me, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “No. I mean, I love California, but I have no geography-based phobias.”

“Mine isn’t geography-based. It’s relations-based. Meddling-based. Smothering-Nana-based.”

“And yet when she says jump…”

I say how high, no matter where I am in the world. “Maybe I’ll go to Australia for my next course of studies.”

“Good plan, troublemaker.”

Our conversation fades as we reach the street again. We stand side-by-side, silently, as he texts his driver to pull his car around to the park. It should be awkward. Wekissed. And it washot.

But it’s not that weird. A little, because deep down, I want to do it again.

But on top of that is a warm, fuzzy sweetness. Toby kissed me. Because he wanted to, even though it’s a terrible idea and we can’t do it again.

A boy wanted to kiss me. A boy who knows how awkward and dorky and vaguely inappropriate I am. A boy who’s really a man.

Amankissed me.

I’d built up this whole narrative around my life where that just wouldn’t happen, not in a good way. Not in a holy hotness kind of way.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, bumping my arm against his.

“For losing my mind?” He laughs under his breath. “Don’t thank me.”

“For being a grown up about it.”

“I promise you that deep down I feel like a teenage boy right now.”

That pleases me, too. I grin like an idiot.

He doesn’t miss my reaction. “You like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” A dark sedan slows to a stop in front of us and Toby touches my arm. How many times has he done that before? How did I never notice how good it feels to be moved around by a guy? Especially one with big hands and strong arms. “Come on. Let’s get you home. Tomorrow we fly you away from the Russo madness.”

I’ve always been happy to come home and see my family. And happier still to get on a plane and zoom back to my own life.

For the first time, I’m left wondering if I’ve been running away from all the wrong things, for all the wrong reasons.

And I definitely can’t marry someone who wants a green card.

Nope.

Damn Toby and his magical mouth, making the point I didn’t want to hear. Marriage should be for passion.

But that doesn’t solve my immediate problem of Nana and her well-intentioned but misguided threats.

I need a new plan. Plan 2.0.

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