Page 186 of Lovers Like Us
Trip number five, I descend the staircase again. This time, Farrow walks in from the adjoining door to security’stownhouse.
Casually, he kicks back on the door, an open jar of peanut butter under his arm, and he unpeels abanana.
I hone in on his fingers that move precisely, assuredly. That shouldn’t be that goddamnhot.
My blood heats, and his lips quirk—he’s not evenlookingat me or even in my direction. How the fuck he can see me is superhuman. Andstrange.
Buthot.
I almost groan at myself as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I could detour and go grab another box from the SUV, but my feet are already moving. Towardshim.
Bigshocker.
I pull out a folded paper from my backpocket.
“What’s that?” Farrow asks, motioning to the paper. Coolly, he squats down to myankles.
I watch him, my curiosity piquing. “A list.” It’s more than a list, but he is a walking, talking distraction that my brain subconsciously…and consciouslyloves.
“A list,” Farrow repeats and lifts the leg of my jeans, revealing my bare shin and a sheathedknife.
I cross my arms, our eyes glued together while he unsheathes my knife.Fuckme.
Farrow smiles and rises, one inch taller. “He’s still trying to turn me into a follower.” Before I can respond, he says, “Let me guess what your list doesn’t say.Number one: I’m in love with Farrow Keene. Number two: he’s alwaysright.”
“How’d you know?” I asksarcastically.
Farrow dipsmyknife in peanut butter and then slices the banana. He eats the piece directly off the blade and licks the peanut butter off thetip.
Fuck.
Me.
I flex, my musclesblazing.
His smile stretches. “I have a PhD in Maximoff HaleStudies.”
I compose myself and give him a look. “How’d you earn that degree? By following mearound?”
“By beating you ateverything.”
My brows bunch inagitation.
He notices, and the corners of his lips liftmore.
I need to hand him the paper, but I don’t want this to end yet. “There is no such thing. So you actually earned a degree in Liars101.”
He whistles. “He can’t even put me in a higher level thanbasic101.” He eyes the paper and sets the peanut butter jar aside. “Giveme.”
I hand him thepaper.
He barely skims it and his brows rise. “This is called a weddingitinerary.”
“That’s what I fucking said,” I combat, and I rub my mouth. Christ, I feel my smile. “All the details are there.” The upside to the tour ending early, I can attend my parent’s vowrenewal.
He’s fixated on some portion of theitinerary.
“What?” I look at the paper upside-down, and the wordsMaximoff Hale, no date, no plus onestands out. “My assistant typedthat.”
