Kiss and Don't Tell(16)

“Don’t worry, I gave you the same shakedown last night when you came into the cabin.”

Okay, yup, cue the red cheeks again.

But can we reflect for a moment—he gave me a shakedown? I wish I’d seen it. I wish I’d been able to capture the look on his face, what it looked like to have him take me in. Did he like everything he saw? His statement leads me to believe he did.

“On three, Winnie, we push. One. Two. Three.”

Together we push Minnie.

My feet slide in the mud.

He grunts.

I grunt.

The car doesn’t move.

I pull up and so does he.

“Would you look at that. Didn’t move an inch,” Pacey says in a sarcastic tone.

I turn to look at him. “You know, I don’t think you were trying your hardest. Do you really bench three hundred? Or are you a bar presser like me?”

His brows shoot to his hairline and it makes me chuckle. “I bench three hundred, and one time I hit three thirty-five.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Prove it.”

He waggles his finger at me. “You sure know how to get under an athlete’s skin, don’t you?”

“Possibly. Come on. On three, we can do this. Ready?”

He nods and gets into position.

“One. Two . . . three.”

We both push at the same time and the car budges.

“Gah . . . keep . . . going. Dig, Pacey. Dig.”

We push and it moves some more.

“Harder, Pacey. Harder.”

“Don’t . . . say . . . it . . . like . . . that,” he grunts out as the car moves some more.

“We’re doing it. Harder. Just like that.”

“Fucking hell.”

Another budge.

“Oh my God, yes. Pacey, yes.”

“Stop sounding like you’re . . . orgasming,” he yells just as the car slips out of the holes.

“Gah, yes,” I scream as the car careens out of my hands.

Entirely too thrilled, I clap my hands together and cheer for our valiant efforts, but those cheers are overshadowed by Pacey yelling at me. “The brakes. Winnie, the brakes.”

“Oh shit!” I lunge forward and would you believe it . . .

I slip in the mud, and instead of catching my car as it rolls backward, I fall face first into the mud and my car careens into a ditch.

Plop.

Splat.

“Motherfucker,” Pacey says as he squats next to me and helps me to my knees. Luckily, I spared my face from the mud, but the front of me is covered. I look down at poor Minnie.

I clear my throat. “Uh, any chance you think we can push Minnie out of that ditch?”

“No,” Pacey says, exasperated.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. But you know, there is one thing to be said about all of this.”

“What? That I said you weren’t going to be able to stay on your feet?”

“Well, that, but also . . .” I poke his chest, his rock-hard chest. “Mr. Doubtful, we were able to get out of the holes. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Yeah, pushed the car right into a ditch that’s now going to require a tow.”

“But don’t you feel that you accomplished something?”

With a laugh, he helps me to my feet and asks, “What do you need from your car? I’ll help you carry it back to the cabin.”

Keeping my arms out to my sides since they’re covered in mud, I ask, “Would you mind grabbing my suitcase from the trunk? And maybe we should bring the keys this time.”

“Yeah, might be a good idea.”

Like the good man he is, he scrambles down into the ditch, grabs my things, and then takes me by the hand to help me to a more solid piece of the road. “Come on, let’s get you back to the cabin and cleaned up.”





Chapter Five





PACEY





“I can carry my suitcase now. You really don’t have to,” Winnie says.

I glance over at her and can’t help but smile. She’s completely caked in mud except for her face. How she was able to avoid that, I’ve no clue, but every other bit of her front side is dripping.

“I told you, I can handle it. You have other things to worry about, like staying on your feet.”

She’s slipped two more times on our way back to the cabin. Either she’s incredibly clumsy or this is her first time walking.

“You know, I think it’s my shoes. They’re old, and there isn’t much tread left on them. Can’t avoid slipping when you have no gription.” Gription? Cute.

“These are my shit shoes and I’ve been fine.”

“Well, aren’t you a god of walking?” she says with humor.

“Never been called that before. I think I like it.” The cabin comes into view and so does a large red truck. “Thank fuck, Stephan is here.”

“Stephan? Wait, isn’t he the chef?”

“Yes. Which means he probably has something cooking for breakfast.” I sniff the air. “Yup, I think I smell bacon. Do you smell that?”

“I’m trying not to smell anything right now for fear that I’ll get a whiff of any animal feces that I might have lain in.”