Page 2 of Midnight Confessions

“Amos, help me out, would you?” Trey breaks through my last thought, annoying me further. He and Sienna could have cleared the room, given me time with Genevieve alone since this is the first time she’s said more than two words to me.

“Pleasure is all mine, Genny.” I tip my head while I’ve still got her full attention. I’m pushing it, there’s no doubt about it, with my next move. The tips of my fingers graze the back of her hand. I expect her to freeze or to leave the room, which is what Trey and Sienna are doing currently. Genevieve does something entirely different: she spins her palm around, touching me for the merest of moments before tucking tail and following the rest of our crew.

It seems she’s not as unaffected as I once believed. I’m tucking that tidbit of information away; I only hope it serves to my advantage sooner rather than later.

ONE

GENEVIEVE

Present Day

“I can do this.” Sienna told me about some of the logistics for the trip, but for the most part, I’ve had to interact with Amos. Thankfully, it’s been via text, and the one time he called my cell, well, I did what any sane woman would do—I let my voicemail pick it up. Maybe if I were a different person, it wouldn’t have been so difficult to get my thoughts together on the fly, except I’m not. I have my quirks, nuances as my dad likes to say, and while sometimes they piss me off to no end, he’s always in my corner telling me I’m perfect the way I am.

I open the door to my car, put one foot on the ground, and am starting to climb out when my attention is captured by someone.

It’s not just anyone.

He’snot just someone.

No, the man who has me stopped in my tracks is none other than the man I’m going to spend the next four days with. Amos Ellison, a tall glass of hot water, a cowboy through and through from his Stetson-wearing self to his worn-in blue jeans and scuffed-up cowboy boots.

Why does he have to look so good without even trying? He’s got a slow gait, a Southern drawl, and seeing Amos in his element is nothing like I’ve ever experienced. Not that there’s much to say about my time with a man in any way you spin it. My one and only time with a guy in college lasted approximately two point four seconds, the pain was excruciating, there was zero finesse, and when he tried to use his thumb on my clit, it felt more like he was smashing it down. The sensation did absolutely nothing for me and had me swearing off guys for the duration of college. Okay, fine, even after college and moving back home near Arrowleaf, there’ve been zero men who garnered my attention.

Until Amos.

I should have known. On the rare occasions I’d be at the Ellison ranch, he’d say hello, and my body would react. Still, I kept to myself, gave him a small wave, a nod of my head, and then left as fast as I came. He let it go, never said a word about the awkwardness I displayed. And as far as I know, Amos didn’t ask Sienna if there was anything wrong with me.

Which leads me to now. I’m stepping out of my car, or attempting to, while psyching myself up for the long haul, and all I can think about is the ropes he currently has on his shoulders, one hand holding the end with a firm grip. I can’t look away. Amos isn’t looking or touching me, yet the way my body is responding, he may as well be scorching my skin, branding me with his presence alone. So, how exactly am I going to manage being in a confined space without turning into a total mess?

My qualities go a little like this: nervous, clumsy mess, hyper focused, artsy, in my own head, and when I’m in a social situation, I’m awkward at best. Ugh, I need to get out of my car and my head. Instead, I pull my phone out of my bag to check for text message. Apparently, we can add procrastinating to the list, too.

Sienna: I know you’re sitting in the car and not getting out right now.

Sienna: You can do this. I love you, and Amos is Amos. He’s the most understanding and relatable person you’ll ever meet. Besides me, of course.

Sienna: Genevieve Alexandria Strickland, are you going to answer me?

I let out a soft chuckle. She’s on a tirade of text messaging me and will not stop, even now.

Sienna: Fine, I’ll call Amos and tell him to check if you’re there.

I start typing, one word at a time, knowing full well the bubbles appearing on the other end will appease her worry wart mind for a moment. Except I hit the back space trying to come up with the right words to say and linger a little longer.

Sienna: I swear to god I’m on my way if you don’t respond.

Me: I’m here. Good grief. I’m in the process of getting out of my car. Yes, I’m working up the courage, but I promise I’m doing the damn thing.

Sienna: Good, I love you, and I’ll text later to check in on you.

Me: I love you, and let’s be honest, you’ll text me sooner rather than later.

Sienna: Okay, fine. You’re right. Now get out of the car and find Amos. You all should be leaving in the next ten minutes, and I know you. You’ve had three cups of coffee already, so you better make a pit stop along the way.

Me: Yes, Mother. Now can I proceed with my day?

Sienna: You may. Send me a text if anything juicy happens.

I don’t respond, choosing to instead roll my eyes and let out a huff and puff of my own. Damn, my best friend knows where to hit, right in the kisser, but also, the last thing I’d ever do is text her about anything that happens between her brother and me. I mean ewww, that’s her brother. Maybe the bare minimum at most.