Page 21 of One Week Wingman

“A lovely little village in the countryside, in Sussex,” he replies.

“Sounds like something out of a story book.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I thought arriving in Ashford Falls,” he says.

“Well, we’re very proud of our town,” Lorna agrees.

“WonPrettiest Connecticut Townthree years running,” Phil adds, bustling past.

“Except for last year,” mom tuts. “Fairbridge snaked it out from under us, rumor has it, they bribed one of the judges with a season pass to the berry farm. Bastards.”

“You’ll see,” I speak up. “It’s a hotbed of sin and scandal, around here.”

Sebastian smiles. “I’m looking forward to learning more.”

“Well, if it’s local history you’re interested in…” Phil perks up.

No!I stifle a groan. If he gets started on his fascination for the late, great citizens of Ashford Falls, we’ll be here all night.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I interrupt. “Stefano must be tired from the drive.”

“Not particularly.” Seb replies.

I glare. “Sure you are,sausage. And I think I’m going to hit the hay.”

“Well, goodnight, sweetie.” My mom gives me a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. “Your bed’s all made up in your room.”

“And Stefano can sleep in the den, right?” I ask.

She laughs. “No need for that, he can stay with you. We’re all adults here.” And then she does something that chills me to my core. She winks.

“Oh you’re a naughty one!” Seb says, giving my mother a playful nudge. “I can see where Roxy gets it from!”

If Roxy doesn’t get you away from them soon, you’re going to blow the whole act.

“Come on then, pookie!” I exclaim brightly, towing him towards the stairs. He grabs a leather duffel and follows. “Good night!”

I go wash my face and clean my teeth, thinking we’re just about home free. Then I open my bedroom door and realize that the fun’s not over yet.

Because now I have to spend the night with Sebastian crammed in my childhood bedroom.

With just one bed.

“Cozy,” Seb says, sitting there on my flower-print quilt with a smirk. A smirk that could make a woman strip down to her panties and fall to her knees.

And probably has, a hundred times before.

I yank the door shut behind me, flustered. Playing at being madly in love in front of a crowd is one thing, but now we’re alone in my room, things suddenly feel way too close for comfort. “You can sleep on the floor,” I tell him.

“That’s not very hospitable,” he laughs, as I grab pillows and blankets from the closet and toss them down in the corner.

“What were you thinking?” I wail. “Telling all those crazy stories!”

“They loved it.”

“No, they lovedyou,” I correct him, grabbing my pajamas from my bag. “Me, I sounded like a slutty idiot.”

“An irresistible slutty idiot,” he says, collapsing back with a bounce. He links his hands behind his head, and lays there, looking far too comfortable.

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