America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(65)

“That’s…great.”

His brow twitches like maybe it’s not so great. “I guess. Sucks that so much of the world has to be wrapped up in labeling you all good or all bad based on one night of your life or one little tweet. I mean the generic you. Not you you. But…all of us.”

Did I say falling for Beck?

More like plummeting through the atmosphere with a rocket strapped to my back without a parachute.

I stop myself when I realize I’m reaching for his thigh just to touch him, because despite that oh my god kiss in the stairwell yesterday—that he stopped—I don’t actually know what our boundaries are. “So your life will go back to normal soon.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And you’ll have to quit eating so much?”

His shoulders relax, and his grin comes back. “Maybe I’ll take another few weeks off before normal. I’m getting an itch to spend some time out in Shipwreck. You ever been?”

I shake my head.

“Best town on the entire planet. After Copper Valley, I mean. And maybe the island of Capri off the Italian coast, but that’s not a fair comparison, since the Blue Grotto is magic.”

One-tenth of his enthusiasm would be utter magic. “What’s special about Shipwreck?”

“Cooper Rock’s from there, but don’t tell him I said that makes it special. What’s really awesome is that it’s a pirate town in the mountains.”

“I’ve been in Copper Valley for over a decade, and I still don’t get how that works.”

“Like eight hundred years ago, this pirate dude, Thorny Rock, was getting ambushed by the Norwegian army off the coast of South Carolina, so he snuck all his Chinese galleons onto a covered wagon and let unicorns pull it inland until they lost their horns, and that’s where he buried his treasure and founded a town, and now his descendants keep the pirate tradition alive every year out there. Ellie and Wyatt hooked up at the Pirate Festival last year, then went back this year to get engaged. It’s fucking magic. And one day, I’m gonna take a metal detector over the whole town and find that treasure. You watch. Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

“Eight hundred years ago?” I’m not touching the unicorns, but I am laughing. “Norwegian army? Chinese galleons?”

“I’m really bad at geography.”

“History.”

“That too.” He shoots me another grin. “I’m really glad you like to laugh, because that’s basically all we’re doing tonight.”

“You’re making up stories?”

“Nope. We’re hitting amateur hour at the comedy club. No, no, don’t make that face. It’s awesome. There’s this ventriloquist—”

“No. Way. Hard stop.”

“Don’t get freaked. She’s funny. And she’s super smart. Like smarter than you and Ellie and Davis and Cupcake all rolled together.”

“Cupcake?”

“Dude. Pigs are smart. Science says so.”

“She freaked over a piece of green onion on the floor when Mom was making omelets this morning and ran head-first into the table leg and almost gave herself a concussion.”

“Understandable. Green onions are terrifying.”

I throw my hands up, laughing. “Okay. You win. You are officially the funniest man on the planet, and I will never win an argument with you, ever.”

“You maybe could. I mean, it might cost you lessons in double orgasms, but I’d let you win an argument.”

Zing! And there go my panties. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not until I’m sure I don’t have a chance.” He slides to a stop again, and this time, when he looks at me, his goofball side has retreated and that very manly mannish side is front and center. “And right now, I know I have a chance.”

I suck in a shuddery breath, because whoa, yes, he really does.

And it’s not just because he’s using the smolder.

It’s because I can still remember the feel of his lips on mine. It’s because every time he touches me—hand, leg, back, face—my skin buzzes to life like a neon sign. It’s because I should hate him for his ignorant tweet last week, but he’s still managed to sneak past my defenses with his apology, because I honestly believe there’s a vulnerable human being capable of true regret and determination to do better and a whole hell of a lot of love for everyone around him hiding under that gorgeous surface.

I can pass on the smolder. I grew up around schmootzy smolders.

But the man underneath is getting to me.

“We’re temporary,” I remind him. “And this isn’t real.”

“This is very real. And it doesn’t have to be temporary.”

I don’t have a solid argument for him, so I just sit there and stare at him dumbly with heat spreading over my skin and my heart pumping a fist in the air and shouting Yeah, baby!

He doesn’t smirk. Or grin. Or fluff his feathers.

Nope.

The man squeezes my knee and turns his attention back to the road.

“Why did you stop kissing me yesterday?” I whisper.

For once, he doesn’t answer quickly, and when he does, he’s still just as quiet and serious. “I’ve been…taken advantage of before. And it sucks. And your parents aren’t the only people who’ve ever had to pay someone off to protect someone they love.”