Page 213 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Jesus Christ, Riles!”
I laugh again.
“Stop it.” He chuckles. “I thought I’d lost you.”
My laughter dies off, my throat thick as I swallow. “I love you too, Riley Wilson.”
Our eyes lock, and he strides toward me until our chests collide, his mouth feverish, my hands wild within his hair. Riley lifts me off the ground, twirling me in a circle, his grip tight, mine tighter.
“Don’t do that again,” he says between plying kisses to my face. “Don’t run without talking first. Promise me.”
I rest my forehead against his. “I won’t. And anyway, where would I run to?”
“Back to Manhattan, of course.”
“Yeaaah… about that. I want to show you something.”
His brows draw together, and he sets me on my feet, so I link my hand in his and face the shop.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He stares at the empty building. “I think it’s a vacant shop.”
“Ithink it’s perfect for my small press.”
Riley snaps his head to me, his eyes crinkling, his smile all teeth. “Here? In Buxtonville?”
I swing our arms. “Why not?”
“But—” He runs his free hand through his hair. “—what about Georgia?”
“I told her to stick my job up her ass.”
He coughs, then chokes out, “You did?”
I smirk. “You seem shocked, Riley.”
“I am.” He blinks a few times. “I’m… I’m speechless.”
“Happy speechless? Or I-don’t-want-you-to-move-here-so-soon speechless? Because if you’re not ready for that, I underst?—”
“Are you shitting me? Of course I want you to move here. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect.”
“Really? Because if this is all too much, I?—”
“Yes! Really!” He lifts me up and twirls us in a circle again. “Is the Pope a religious fuck?”
“Riley!” I laugh and kiss his lips, soft, slow, and with purpose. “We really need to stop speaking about the Pope like that. We’ll go to hell.”
“Hell is the last thing on my mind right now. You’re here… in my arms… where you belong. To hell with hell.” He kisses me again, and I lose myself to everything that is him. His smell, his warmth, his undeniable love.
“Mommy, why is Uncle Riley kissing that lady?”
Our heads snap to where an adorable little girl is holding her mother’s hand.
“Because that’s Riles, sweetie,” the woman says, grinning from ear to ear. “Uncle Riley’s girlfriend.”
I push back and wriggle free of his grip, nervously fixing my hair as Poppy giggles and twists from side to side.
