Four Day Fling(36)

I grinned. “Then don’t make this mistake.”

“Noted. Are they coming to get them?”

“No, they’re staying in my car until they’re ready for them.”

“Poppy.” He drew closer to me, cupping my chin. His thumb stroked the curve of my lower lip as he dipped his head, bringing his mouth closer to mine. “Stop running your mouth.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you.”

“You can try.”

In hindsight, challenging him like that was a bad idea.

Gripping my hip, he pulled me right against him, bringing his lips to mine for God knows how many times today. I didn’t care—kissing him was like flying. Everything else melted away when Adam held my body against his and our lips came together.

He cupped the back of my neck, his other arm clamping around my lower back. My hands fisted in his shirt, grabbing the collar of the polo as I leaned into him.

Something inside me—my heart, my soul, whatever—sighed. And no part of me had any business sighing at anything when he kissed me.

Some kisses were fairytale ones. Heart-thumping, foot-popping, soul-sighing kisses.

I’d always imagined mine would on a first date or under a sunset or after the ‘L’ word.

But, no. My fairytale kiss, my heart-thumping, foot-popping, soul-sighing kiss, was standing in a parking lot next to a car full of three hundred dollars’ worth of strawberries, with a guy who was kissing me to shut my smartass mouth up.

I didn’t want to think about how much more appropriate that was for me than something romantic.

A throat cleared behind us, and before I’d even turned, my cheeks were burning.

The young guy who’d obviously cleared his throat shifted. “The, uh—Mr. Smith sent us to get the strawberries.”

I swallowed, stepping away from Adam. “Right there. Please take them before they get fried.”

Adam covered his mouth with his hand, dipping his head. His shoulders gave away his light chuckle, and I jabbed him with my elbow.

That was all his fault.

We waited in silence until the team of porters had moved all the strawberries into crates and into their wheelie-things. It took them a good fifteen minutes, and I hoped like hell they had a decent fridge to keep them cool.

They thanked me and left. I slammed the trunk shut and locked my car, the beep sounding extra loud in the silence of the parking lot.

“That was awkward,” Adam announced, grinning.

“Story of my life,” I muttered, stuffing my keys into my ass pocket. “Did Mark find you earlier?”

He nodded. “Rory talked my ear off for forty-five minutes before Mark finally convinced him to get ice cream.”

“He picked you over ice cream?” I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. He must really love you.”

Shifting, he answered, “Yeah, I sometimes have that effect on kids.”

“Aw, now what’s awkward?”

“I just… Yeah.” He rolled his shoulder, reaching behind to rub the back of his neck. A tiny smile played on his lips. “I don’t see myself the way Rory does. I just play hockey ‘cause I love it, Red. I don’t do it to be some kind of superhero.”

“It just comes with the territory, right?” I leaned back against the car.

“Sometimes. I still don’t believe I’m a hero.”

“Tell that to my dad.”

“Exactly my point.”

I smiled at him. I couldn’t pretend to get it, because I didn’t. I would never understand how he viewed his world because it was so very different from mine. Sure, I didn’t care about what he was.

I had no reason to care. Not really. Not personally.

“All right. Enough of that.” He clapped his hands and wiped them on his shorts. “What time is the dinner tonight?”

“Six-thirty. So I need to be there for at least five-thirty.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “All right…So, what you’re saying is we have time to go up to our room and finish what we started earlier.”

“No. I have to find the wedding planner since my sister is drugged and asleep.”

Adam looked at me, face void of all expression. “If I hadn’t seen her so anxious this morning, that would seriously concern me.”

“You’re not concerned?”

“No.”

“Good. Now, how do you feel about serial killers?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder as I walked away.

“Documentaries or being friends with them?”

“You know a serial killer?” Oh, man, I sounded way too excited.

He drew level with me and frowned. “Pretty sure a guy I went to school with killed three or four people when he was in college.”

I grabbed his arm, stopping us both in the middle of the parking lot. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”

“Of course,” he muttered, sliding my hand down to his. “Most girls want me for my money, but you’re interested because I know a serial killer.”

“Not true. I was originally interested because you were hot. Now, I’m interested because you know a serial killer.”

He linked his fingers through mine and sighed. “All right. Get this wedding planner stuff out of the way—because that will take forever—then I’ll tell you about him.”