Page 263 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

The clerk packs the items, then flashes a grin. “Drive safely, now,” she says.

“I will,” I reply, as I grab one bag and Owen snags the other. When I push on the door to leave, a blast of cold air lashes me. “Brrr. It’s Antarctica.”

Owen gestures to the car, several feet away. “Want me to run over there first and get your jacket for you? Would that help?”

“Mock me with your Canadian blood, why don’t you?”

“Well, do you, River?”

Shivering, I growl. “I’ll survive the ten feet.”

“Look at you. Braving the elements. It’s amazing and, honestly, a little inspiring,” he says, faux choking up.

“I’m endlessly inspiring. I’m also freezing,” I say, as we quickly set the bags on the back seat, then hop in. I turn the car on, then arch a brow. “Want to go wild?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Maybe it is.”

“I’ll bite. What are we doing that’s wild?”

“Butt warmers,” I say salaciously, then hit the button on the console to turn up the heat on the seats.

“Bring it on,” Owen says, and tosses me a sly grin. “Nothing I like better than a hot ass.”

I fan my hand in front of my face, reverting to flirting once more. “And now I need to cool off.”

“Cooling off is overrated,” Owen says, as I pull out of the lot, and back onto the highway.

Maybe I don’t entirely want to cool off either.

Once we hit the stretch of concrete ribbon, my thoughts return to Owen’s comment at the register. To my own wayward mind. And sometimes, wayward minds win. “By the way, you’re right.”

“About what?”

I shoot him a sly smile. “I am definitely bossy.”

My remark takes a few seconds to land, but when it does, I catch a glimpse of his lips curving into a sexy little grin. The tip of his tongue flicks across the corner of his mouth, then he turns to face me. “Is that so?”

“Yes. It is.”

Owen leans his head back against the headrest, grinning. “Have to say, I’m not at all surprised to learn that.” Then he adds, his voice dropping lower, hitting a smoky tone, “Also, bossy can be good.”

I should pump the brakes.

Truly, I should.

But the more miles I put between San Francisco and us, the harder that gets.

7

OWEN

After I take two ibuprofens, I pop a pumpkin seed in my mouth and chew. Once I’m done, I grab the can of bubbly water and knock some back.

Dual purpose—the food and drink stop me from talking.

From picking up where we left off.