Page 68 of Betting on You

I said it just to shut him up.

But I knew Bailey would never understand that. Why would she?

So finding out I’d bet that I could “get” her—yeah, she’d lose her shit if she ever found out.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Theo said, his face twisted in amused disbelief. “You’re going away with her for the weekend. Now’s your shot.”

“I’m not looking for ashot.” I glanced over his shoulder, wishing he’d shut his fucking mouth. Not only did I not want Bay to hear him, but I didn’t want someone else to overhear and think I was a prick like him. “Like I said, it was a joke.”

“Getting nervous that you can’t make it happen?” he asked, smirking like a creep.

I had a million smart-ass comments I wanted say at that moment, but guys like Theo were unpredictable. If you said the wrong thing and managed to wound their fragile ego, there could be hell to pay.

“No,” I said, lowering my voice so he’d take a hint. “But Iknowit won’t happen if she overhears you.”

And boom—it worked. Theo’s face slid into a sleazy grin and he nodded. The dude lowered his voice and said, “Slam dunk.”

I was relieved when he walked away (after a fucking absurd bro-handshake that included a shoulder bump), but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still stress pinging around inside me.

Something about the road trip had me on edge. I couldn’t put my finger on whether it was the blowup that was sure to happen with the adults when we arrived in Breckenridge, or some…something that had everything to do with spending an entire weekend alone with Bailey.

I was…unsettledas I got into the car and started it up.

And that feeling didn’t go away when Bailey came out in a hooded sweatshirt that looked like it was going to swallow her whole, her hair in a slick ponytail, and a huge pair of sunglasses on and ready.

Damn. The on-edge feeling ratcheted up to an inching-toward-the-end-of-the-cliff level of on-edge as I watched her approach the car. Swear to God I heard Taylor Swift’s voice say, “Are you ready for it?”

Let the games begin.

I reached into my pocket for the TUMS and popped a few into my mouth. I saw Bailey’s eyebrow lift, which made my mother’s anxious voice—Find your calm, Charlie—swim in my head.

“You do realize that if Mr. Cleveland sees you parked here, he’ll lose his shit,” she said, opening up the passenger-side door and climbing into my car.

“I’m not worried about Cleveland. Idarehim to censure us.”

“Wow.” She reached for the seat belt, her ponytail brushing her shoulders. “Are you a badass?”

“Obviously. You haven’t realized that by now?”

“Somehow I missed it,” she mused. And I relaxed a little.

“I don’t see how.” Good. This felt very normal for us.

“Are we getting snacks before we get on the interstate?”

“Duh.” I put the car in drive and floored it out of the parking lot. “Are we getting snacks—as if that’s even a question. What kind of a moron do you think I am?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXBailey

“Okay—I’m exiting here,” Charlie said.

“Whatever.” I shrugged. “Get gas wherever you want; see if I care.”

“I will,” Charlie said, his mouth twitching into an almost smile. “Just wanted to warn you, in case you need to stretch or something.”

“No, I’m good, but thanks.” I sat straight up, moved my purse, then slid my feet back into my shoes. “Maybeyoushould stretch.”

“As if, Glasses. Come on.”

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