Page 76 of Lead Me Knot

With a nod, he kisses me. “It’s official.” He rolls from on top of me to the side, dropping his arm wide in invitation. I slide and snuggle against him. “You’re all mine, Shortcake.”

I’ve always been fiercely independent. I had to be from a young age. But those four words make me feel like I’m a part of the family.I’m his.And he’s all mine.

CHAPTER 27

Lauralee

“Are we almost there?”I ask, whining to playfully taunt him.

Baylor shoots me a look, his eyes dancing before a laugh bursts out. “I stopped and got you beef jerky, strawberry candies, and a large blue raspberry ICEE that’s stained your lips.” I flip down the visor in the car he rented to see if my lips really are stained blue. I playfully punch him in the arm because they aren’t, but my tongue sure is. “We’ve stopped twice for bathroom breaks, and you polished off a six-piece chicken nugget meal. What can I do to make this drive less painful for you?”

“Ice cream sounds good.”

His head bounces forward on his neck. “I don’t know where you put it.”

I pop my shoulders. “I’ve been burning calories like nobody’s business because of you.” I grin, twisting my lips to one side. Last night was exhilarating and exhausting in the best of ways. My muscles ached from the deliciousness of him taking me twice and then returning the favor once more for good luck. That’s a thing, right? Sex for good luck.

“Fair point. We did make the most of our wedding night.” His eyes return to the road, and he says, “Next stop I see that has ice cream, you got it, baby.”

I hold up the convenience store bag stored at my feet. “For the record, I’ve only snacked on the candies. I haven’t even opened the jerky yet. I got it just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“We get stranded and have to survive in the woods for days before being rescued.”

Chuckling, he says, “I don’t think it’s possible to get lost or stranded in the woods between Manhattan and the Hamptons.”

“We were raised in Texas. We come prepared. Have you been gone so long that you forgot your roots, Baylor?”

The silence draws my gaze to him as a myriad of emotions plays through his eyes as he glares ahead. Now I feel bad. He must feel me staring because he looks over and asks, “What?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings are fine.” His words are curt, and though it’s invisible, I see that mask I thought he left far behind our relationship slip back on.

“Sounds like it,” I snark even when I know better. I reach over and rub his leg. “I really didn’t mean anything by it. It just came out.”

“It came out because you believe that. You believe that I’m more New York now than Peachtree Pass.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? You left and never came back. I would think you would be proud of the direction of your life. Maybe I’m wrong for jumping to conclusions.” Just as I pull my hand away, he captures it and brings it back to his lap.

“You’re not wrong. It’s no secret that Tagger and I had big plans, and those plans panned out.” He glances at me. “That doesn’t mean that our hometown didn’t shape who I am as a man or isn’t still part of me.”

Leaning my head back and angling my body, I face him. “You glide seamlessly between the two worlds, but eventually, you’ll have to choose one.”

“Why?”

“I’m there, Baylor.” I don’t know why I say it. The thing that I tried so hard to repress, to never pressure him into deciding. Lifting my head, I stare down at the rings on my finger. I foolishly forgot that this isn’t real. We aren’t. We said one night, and I’m dragging it into the next day. I’m only supposed to play the part in the Hamptons. Pretending to be in love with him when I really am. I face forward again, and add, “Forget I said that.”

“Lauralee, don’t do that. Don’t close down on me.”

And as timing would have it . . .

I’m already closed off. “Don’t miss the stop,” I say, pointing at the small gas station coming up on my side of the road.

He pulls over and drives across the gravel parking lot to a spot in the front. As soon as he shifts into park, he says, “I know you’re there. I think about it every fucking day of my life, wishing you were here or I was there so we would be together. I don’t have an answer that will feel satisfactory to you when you already think I’m doing this on purpose.”

“I don’t. I don’t think you don’t want to be with me. I think you feel caught between your career and . . .” I don’t want to say it. It sounds childish, though it’s true. “I won’t make demands of you.” A humorless laugh escapes me. “I can’t anyway.You don’t work that way. Neither do I. It’s one of the few things we have in common.”

---