Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(18)

I let myself in the side door, which led directly into the kitchen, where I found Oliver leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee, and looking at his phone. He was showered and dressed, and his hair was still a little damp, so it looked darker than it really was. His shorts made me laugh—they were red.

“Good morning,” he said, looking up from the screen. “What’s so funny?”

“Your shorts. They remind me of prom.”

He grinned. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. What a bunch of douchebags we were.”

“Finally, something we can agree on.” I stuck a pod in the Keurig and grabbed a coffee cup. “So what’s the scoop for today?”

“I figured we’d take a drive, so I can show you the place I want you to see.”

“How long is the drive?” I asked, watching my cup fill.

“Not long at all. But I was thinking we could stay there for the night.”

Suspicious, I peered at him over one shoulder. “Stay there for the night?”

“Sure.” He drank his coffee, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Like, in a hotel or something?”

He hesitated. “Or something.”

Sighing, I pulled my cup from the machine and turned to face him. “I’m not sharing a room with you, Oliver.”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t some kind of reunion for us.”

“I get it.”

“And if I don’t want to stay wherever it is you’re taking me, I’m not staying.”

“Fair enough.”

I took a tiny sip of the hot coffee and regarded him. He was being awfully agreeable, for him. He looked handsome and relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world. His soft blue chambray shirt—tucked in, sleeves rolled up—had nary a wrinkle, and the close fit showed off his athletic build. Lean and muscular, but not beefy. For a brief moment, I pictured him naked, and my stomach tightened. I shoved the image from my head.

“What should I pack?” I asked.

“Nothing too fancy. Comfortable clothes are fine. You’ll want a bathing suit. Sneakers. Jeans and a sweatshirt in case it gets cool.”

“A bathing suit?” I cocked my head. “Where on earth are you taking me?”

“It’s a secret,” he teased, his eyes lighting up. “Just trust me.”

“Says the boy responsible for my broken leg.”

Oliver looked offended. “I didn’t force you to jump off that roof. You took the bet. And I broke a bone too, you know.”

“You didn’t even have the thing you bet!”

“Okay, not one of my finer moments, I agree, but we had plenty of good times too. Remember when we were twelve and spied on Hughie and Sylvia making out on the front porch?”

I laughed. “Oh yeah. God, they were so mad.”

“And how about the time we took my dad’s Cadillac out for a spin?”

“Definitely worth the punishment,” I said, gleeful at the memory.

“And my mom still doesn’t know which one of us knocked over her grandmother’s porcelain vase playing Ghostbusters tag in the house.”

I sipped my coffee. “You’re welcome.”

His slow, devious smile took me back years. “Thanks. Now go home and pack your bag, then text me your address. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“We’re leaving that soon?”

“No time to waste, Dimples.”

“Do you have to call me that?” I asked. It’s not that I disliked the nickname so much, but it suggested a certain closeness between us I didn’t want him to assume.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Because I like the way it bothers you.”

I glared at him and left the kitchen without saying goodbye.

On my way home, I called April and filled her in.

“Oh my God, I wonder where he’s taking you!” she squealed.

“I have no idea. He says it’s a secret.”

“A secret trip? That’s kind of fun.”

“Maybe. But if I don’t get in touch within two days, check the trunk of his car.”

She laughed. “Deal.”





8





Oliver





NOW



I knocked on the front door of Chloe’s Traverse City condo a few minutes after 10:00 A.M.

“Coming!” Her voice carried through the screens of her open windows. A moment later, she pulled open the door. “Hey. Come on in.”

“Hey.” I stepped inside and she closed the door behind me. Her place was long and narrow, with a living room at the front and kitchen/dining area at the back. Her furniture was neutral with very few frills or homey touches like pillows or blankets, or even art on the walls. But the wood floors were nice and the kitchen cabinets were bright white, and the stone counters looked shiny and uncluttered.

“I just need a few more minutes,” she said, heading up a carpeted staircase to the left. “You know, it would really help if I knew where I was going. We’ll only be gone one night, right?”

Out of her sight, I winced. “Yeah, about that …”