Page 16 of Riding with the Secret Billionaire

"You can put on music if you want," I offer after a stretch of silence.

Trish looks genuinely surprised."Really? You're letting me choose?"

"Within reason," I qualify. "Nothing that would compromise driving safety."

She laughs, the sound filling the cab of the truck."God forbid we listen to something dangerous like death metal or explicit hip-hop.What happens then? Does the truck explode?"

Despite myself, I smile at her teasing."Just choose something, Trish."

She connects her phone to the truck's audio system and scrolls through her playlists.After a moment of deliberation, soft acoustic guitar fills the speakers, not what I expected from her at all.

"Surprised?" she asks, clearly reading my expression."You thought I'd pick something loud and chaotic just to annoy you, didn't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," I admit.

"I contain multitudes, Jake Winters." She settles back in her seat, a small smile playing on her lips."Just like you."

As we drive west toward Kansas, the music creates a peaceful backdrop to the scenery rollingpast.Trish eventually dozes off, her head resting against the window, curls tumbling around herface.I find my gaze drawn to the gentle curve of her cheek, and the slight part of her lips as she breathes deeply more often than is safe whiledriving.

This attraction is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, especially after last night on thebridge.I'd come dangerously close to crossing a line I'd drawn clearly for myself when accepting this ride sharerequest.Professional distance. Nocomplications.Complete focus on themission.

But watching Trish sleep, vulnerable and trusting in my presence, I'm forced to acknowledge that the line has already blurred beyondrecognition.Whatever is building between us isn't something I can control with my usualprotocols.

And that, more than anything, is what terrifiesme.

6

TRISH

Basic Plaines, Kansas lives up to its name in every possible way. As Jake pulls off Route 14 into what barely qualifies as a town, I stare out the window at the flat, endless landscape stretching in all directions.

"Please tell me this isn't really where we're staying tonight," I say, eyeing the single motel that appears to be the town's only accommodation option. The sign reads "Plains Motel" with several letters burnt out, making it look more like "Pla ns Mot l" instead.

"It's this or sleeping in the truck," Jake replies, pulling into the small parking lot. "We've been on the road for almost eleven hours. We need rest."

He's right, of course. After leaving Heartstone this morning, we've driven straight through with only brief stops for gas and bathroom breaks. My body aches from sitting so long, and despite my nap earlier, fatigue weighs heavily on me.

"Fine," I concede. "But if there are bedbugs, I'm sleeping on top of you."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. Jake's eyes meet mine, something dark and hungry flashing in their depths before he carefully masks it.

"Let's hope the reviews are accurate, then," he says, his voice rougher than before.

The motel office is manned by a bored teenager who barely looks up from his phone as Jake requests two rooms. The kid's disinterest shifts to something more alert when he checks the computer.

"Only got one room left," he announces, eyes darting between us with newfound interest. "Double bed, though. Not single."

Jake's jaw tightens visibly. "Nothing else available?"

"Nope. High school football game tonight against our rivals. Town's packed with visitors." The kid shrugs, clearly enjoying our predicament. "Take it or leave it."

Jake glances at me, his expression unreadable. "Your call."

I weigh our options. Keep driving, potentially for hours, when we're both already exhausted. Sleep in the truck, which would be uncomfortable at best. Or share a room with Jake, with all the complications that might entail.

"We'll take it," I decide, meeting Jake's gaze squarely. "We're both adults. We can handle one night in the same room."

Jake turns back to the desk clerk. "We'll take it."

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