Page 82 of Happily Never After

“Okay,” Claire said slowly. “Are you planning to murder me when we get there?”

It would really suck if Luke had been in ESA all along. The longest of long cons.

“No. But you’ll see.”

As they pulled out of the parking spot, she started the timer on her watch. Just in case. Then she slipped the eye mask over her head. Luke turned some music on. Driving in Los Angeles was even more disorienting when she couldn’t see anything.

She found his leg in the dark. “Hey. I really appreciate you planning all of this. I know you have a lot going on—and let’s behonest, just dating me is a full-time job right now between the security concerns and my stress levels. Thank you for taking me on a date. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stressy nightmare. When this is all over, I’m going to make it up to you.”

He squeezed her hand. “I get it. I’ve been known to get intense about my projects too.”

“Hmm. What is it you do for a living, again?”

Luke booped her on the nose and they fell into silence.

They made a left, then a right, then went straight for at least ten minutes. Finally, they turned left again. The car crunched over gravel. They pulled to a stop. Were they in a parking lot or some rural road where he planned to dispose of her body and go back to his previous life with sex-tape-star Olivia?

Claire clicked the button to turn her stopwatch off and made a mental note of the direction they went when they left the bowling alley. With that information and the time distance, she was certain she could find it again if she had to. Jack would be proud.

“All right,” Luke said. “You can take it off.”

The blindfold slid off. She was immediately assaulted by brightly colored flashing lights.

“Luke. What is this place?”

“This,” he said, sweeping his arm wide, “is food truck central.”

She opened her door and stepped out into the parking lot. There was a hint of sea breeze in the air, and a dozen tantalizing smells were all tangled together. The chipotle spice of a taco blended with the velvety sweetness of an alcoholic whoopee pie. Smothered French fries stood a few stands away. Specialty grilled cheese was to their right. Soft pretzels. Margarita trucks. Dear god, she was in heaven.

She grabbed his wrist. “This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen,” she whispered.

He tucked something in her hand, and she glanced down. She was clutching a handful of crumpled twenty-dollar bills.

“Go.” He pointed to the cluster of trucks.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She ran off without a backward glance.

“So why didn’t you want me to be able to find this place on my own?” She grilled him twenty minutes later at a picnic table covered in food.

“Are you kidding me? If you knew where this was, you would sleepwalk to it every night.”

“You have a point,” she said around a mouthful of pretzel. It was almost as good as the Amish pretzels from the farmers’ market back home. “Thank you for this.”

“For what?”

There was a smudge of mustard on his cheek. She reached over and wiped it off.

“Today. For pulling me out of that meeting and reassuring me that I’m not going to end up a homeless failure.”

He patted her hand. “A failure, maybe. But not a homeless one.”

She glared at him. If this wasn’t the most perfect carnitas taco she’d ever eaten, she definitely would have thrown it in his smug face.

An hour later, Claire groaned as they entered the foyer. “I’m never eating again. And I need to do like two hours of cardio to make up for that.”

“Stay here. I’m going to check the house.”

“There wasn’t anything on the cameras,” she reminded him, but off he went. She sighed and set her purse on the table in the foyer. The dogs, thoroughly exhausted from doggy daycare, immediately flopped on the floor and refused to get up.

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