Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(32)

He chuckles. “Sloane, I know what I Spy is.”

“Well then, keep up. Don’t act so confused. You’re too old to play dumb. It’s not cute.”

Amusement touches every feature, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. There he is.

“Okay. I’ll go first. I spy with my little eye something that is . . . brown.”

He glances down quickly at himself. “My coat.”

“No.”

“The trees outside.”

“No.”

“The . . . really? Brown?”

I shrug. “Yeah. Brown. What’s wrong with brown?”

His eyes roll, and he peers around like he’s trying really hard to figure it out. “The grass?”

I scoff. “The grass isn’t brown. It’s more like yellow.”

One of his hands flies up in frustration. His fuse is short right now. He needs a laugh. “I don’t know, Sloane. There isn’t much that’s brown in this truck or out there. What is it?”

“It was a bull in a field that we already passed.” It was the darker streaks in his hair. That’s how it popped up in my head.

I was lying to him.

He barks out a laugh though, and the lie is immediately worth the deception. “You can’t pick things that we’ve already passed!”

I grin, toeing off my slip-on Vans and crossing my legs on the seat. “Keep up or tap out, Gervais. This isn’t baby I Spy. This is the big kids’ version.”

With a light shake of his head, he glances over at me. “Okay. Fine.” His chin dips, and then his eyes are back on the road. They don’t shift. They stay fastened to the blacktop that stretches ahead of us. “I spy with my little eye something that is blue.”

My lips roll together. “Okay. Blue. The sky?”

“I thought this wasn’t the baby version of I Spy?”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “Alright. The blue snowflake on the A/C button?”

“No.”

“The blue stripe on the temperature control?”

“No.”

My head whips around as a blue car streaks by. “That blue sedan!”

The corners of his mouth tug up. “No.”

“Ugh. Can we play baby I Spy, actually?”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “No.”

My eyes roll, and I turn to check the back seat. “My navy bag?”

“It’s more of a sky blue.”

“Okay, well, I already guessed the sky.”

“You did.” He nods.

I peer around the vehicle, wracking my brain. I should have known he’d trick me after what I just pulled on him. “Did we pass a blue house or a blue barn or something?”

“No. It’s in the car. And it’s one of my favorite things.”

“You’re full of shit, Gervais.” I flop back, crossing my arms, trying not to pout but failing.

His eyes meet mine again and stare just a beat too long. “No. I’m not.”

This time it’s my hands that fly up, right as warmth blooms on my cheeks. “Okay. I guess I’ll keep things fair and give up. I don’t know.”

This time when he talks, he doesn’t look at me. He stares at the smooth road like there’s something remarkably interesting there. He swallows, and I watch the column of his throat work beneath the stubble. “It’s your eyes.”

I go very, very still. “My eyes?” I repeat stupidly. I heard him clearly. I just didn’t expect that to be his answer. Not even close.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah. A robin’s egg is more accurate. Remember when we were walking to the river that one time and the shell fell out of the tree in front of us? You were so excited about there being baby birds, and I remember picking it up and looking at you, thinking that it matched almost perfectly.” He chuckles when he finishes his sentence, like it’s just a friendly walk down memory lane. But inside, I’m the one who’s spinning now.

I clear my throat and suppress the swirling feelings. “Yeah. Violet and I checked on those robins every day. If we climbed the opposite tree, we could see into the nest.”

He smirks. “You two were always climbing trees.”

I smile and drop my chin to my chest. “Yeah. We were always trying to spy on you guys. Or eavesdrop. Once, we saw all of you skinny dipping in the river. Violet wanted to stop after that because she said she’d never recover.” I hadn’t felt the same, but then, I hadn’t been looking at my cousins.

My eyes were stuck on a nineteen-year-old Jasper, who was home for the summer from playing junior hockey. A nineteen-year-old Jasper who looked like he spent all his free time working out.

The same man barks out a laugh beside me. “I think she recovered.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think she did.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t get that one.” He’s teasing me, oblivious to the effect he has on me—but that’s nothing new.

That would never happen.

I scoff and reach across to poke him in the ribs, smiling when he flinches. “How am I supposed to look at my own eyes?”

“Most people use a mirror.”

I poke him again and he snorts.

“Use the mirror, Sunny. What color do you think they are? Tell me that isn’t robin’s-egg blue.”