I automatically pull my arms toward my chest, the tank top in my hands doing little to cover my front.

Then, both annoyed and motivated by his blatant perusal of my mostly naked body, I hold his gaze as I slowly lower my arm, letting him take in the strapless white bra, the black and white striped panties with black lace and a little bow as I leisurely pull the tank over my head.

Normally I’d take the bra off first, but I’m not quite that brave.

Brave enough though, to turn, my back toward him, bending over slightly as I look for my pajama bottoms.

I think I hear Reece groan, and I grin as I pull out the white cotton shorts and step into them more slowly than I need to.

Only then do I undo my bra, under the safety of the top, whipping it away and dropping it into my bag before scurrying into bed.

I haul out my journal. Reece wasn’t half-wrong when he said I’d been crying into my diary. I’m a little embarrassed to say that the notebook thus far reads more like my seventh grade diary with the pink and teal glittery stripes than it does the worldly travel journal I’d envisioned.

Instead of talking about the sights and my impression of parts of the country I haven’t seen before, it’s a lot of, well, boys.

Last night it had been a lot of tear-soaked scribbles about betrayal and loyalty, alternating between self-pity that I seem to be the type of girl that boys cheat on, and righteous, girl-power indignation that they’d even dare.

Tonight though…I tap the pen against my lips, sneaking a glance at Reece as I try to figure out how to even capture this particular day and night of our road trip.

He’s ignoring me altogether, and I suppose that’s the lesson right there.

Keep your eye on the prize, Lucy. You’re moving toward Napa and away from your history with Reece Sullivan. Don’t be that girl who moves backward.

By the time I plug in my phone and turn off the lamp, he’s still ignoring me, except this time I know he’s faking it and is as determined as I am to dodge the fact that we have unfinished business.

After a few minutes, I see the faint glow from his cellphone go out, and then there’s nothing but the darkness and our silence.

I don’t mean to speak, but I do. “Reece?”

For a second he’s quiet, and I think he’ll ignore me, but then he clears his throat and responds in a quiet voice. “Yeah.”

Crap. Didn’t think this through. There are so many things I want to say, ask…do.

I blow out a breath. “Thanks.”

“For?”

I pluck at the hotel comforter. “For yesterday. For coming after me and holding me, even though I know you hate me.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to confirm that he doesn’t hate me. Which is stupid. He has no reason to hate me. He’s the one who ruined things.

I hold my breath anyway.

Deny it. Say you miss me like I miss you.

There’s a rustling noise, then the creak of a crappy couch. “Night, Lucy.”

I squeeze my eyes shut in disappointment. His ex-girlfriend is wearing tiny pajamas, not ten feet from him, and he’s not even interested.

Which…I shouldn’t care. I know I shouldn’t. Reece Sullivan hurt me more than anyone’s ever hurt me. I should be keeping my distance. Not to mention I just ended a relationship; the last thing I should be thinking about is hooking up with Reece.

And yet I lie awake long into the night. Wondering what if.

Remembering the good parts a lot more vividly than the bad.

Chapter 21

Reece

I rub my forehead in exasperation.

“You missed the exit.”

I can actually hear Lucy’s teeth grinding together, even over the hard rock I’ve put on to punish her for the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her ass in those little shorts last night, nor her tits in the dress….

“Maybe if you’d told me that was our exit before we passed it,” she snaps, moving into the far right lane so we can get off the freeway and backtrack.

“I did tell you,” I growl.

“Oh, you mean when you muttered something under your breath, and then wouldn’t repeat it when I asked?”

I reach for my M&M’s and toss back a handful to keep from reaching across the car and strangling her.

We haven’t gotten off to a good start this morning. I think it was sharing the bathroom that did it. Having to sit and listen to the water running, knowing that only a single door separated me from her naked body.

And then she came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, dark hair dripping water over her collarbone, smelling like vanilla and Lucy….

“You’re a terrible navigator,” she gripes.

I don’t deny this. I hate navigating. It’s making me crazy not to be the one driving. I have nothing to do with my hands, too much free reign for my brain to go places it shouldn’t.

“Right or left?” she asks impatiently when she gets to the bottom of the off-ramp. “Actually, never mind. We’ll fill up on gas, and I’ll figure out directions and drive.”

No chance. The second she gets out of the driver’s seat, I’m in it.

Except the girl knows me too well, because she pulls up to the pump, turns off the car, and stares straight ahead, staying stubbornly seated.

I jerk my head toward the back. “When I drive, I pump.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the way you pump. And unimpressive as it is, don’t think I don’t know your plan, that the second I unbuckle my seatbelt you’re going to be behind the wheel.”