Love Story Page 4

  “Yeah, I remember,” I say.

  I also remember that Lucy and I hooked up in the backseat of this car as well. It was the first time I went under her shirt, and I swear to God it felt like the first time I touched a breast instead of the hundredth. That’s how it was with Lucy. Every damned thing had felt like a first.

  And then it had felt like the last.

  Shit.

  I look at my watch, and Craig notices. “Yeah. This has gone on long enough. Mom,” he calls gently to his mother who’s telling Lucy in a watery voice to text every hour. “They’ve gotta hit the road.”

  “Of course you do,” Delia Hawkins says, swiping at the tears. “So you don’t drive after dark! You won’t drive after dark. Will you? Reece?”

  “No ma’am,” I say, going over to hug the woman who practically raised me.

  “And you’ll text every hour too, right? But not while driving. Every stop. I want to know every single thing about this trip, you kids are just going to have the best time.”

  I hug her tighter and try to ignore the sulky silence of Lucy behind me. We haven’t so much as made eye contact since her family gathered around the car to say goodbye.

  Not since I told her I didn’t want a damn thing from her. Because the lies just keep coming this morning, apparently.

  Lucy’s dad hands me a Triple-A card as I go to hug him. “Not the most glamorous going-away gift,” he says a little gruffly as he thumps my back. “But I’ll feel better knowing you have it if you get stranded somewhere.”

  “Does nobody in this family have faith in my mechanic abilities?” I ask with a wink.

  “I do,” Brandi says, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck and giving me a smacking kiss on the cheek. “And for what it’s worth, my money’s on you and Lucy killing each other long before the car dies.”

  I narrow my eyes at her, which she can’t see through my sunglasses. Or maybe she can see, because she gives me a wide grin that’s full of little-sister sass. That’s what Brandi’s always been. The little sister Lucy should have been. Except where my feelings for one sister have always been strictly brotherly, the other…

  “Reece. You coming, or what?” Lucy says.

  I turn around to snap at her that I’m not the one who’s been yapping for the past twenty minutes, but I get distracted when I see she’s by the driver’s-side door.

  “I’m driving,” I state.

  She shoves her sunglasses up onto her head, pushing her dark hair back, and glares. “This is my trip. My plan. I drive.”

  “Lucy—” her mother murmurs.

  We both ignore Delia. “Sure, you can drive” I say, giving Lucy an easy smile that has her eyes narrowing. “Keys are in my front left pocket.”

  Her gaze drifts down to the front of my jeans, just for a second, but it’s enough. Shit. Major error in judgment on my part. All it takes is her looking at my cock to remember what it felt like when she touched it. With her hands, mouth…

  I stifle a groan, not exactly wanting to let on to her parents that I was their darling daughter’s first blow job and that she was damn good at it.

  “Lucy, you’re making the guy drive all over the damn country,” Craig says, coming to my rescue. “At least let him take first shift behind the wheel. Plus, you’re sort of crashing his deal. He thought he’d be taking Horny alone.”

  I’ve never hated the nickname of this stupid car so much as I do right now, on the verge of a full-blown (pun intended) erection, in front of my pseudo-parents, all from a memory of a girl I don’t even like.

  I can tell by the look on Lucy’s face that she wants to argue, not because she’s actually dying to drive, but because she hates me too much to let me drive.

  But she can’t really go there without signaling that she and I haven’t so much drifted apart in recent years like everyone assumes, so much as collided and then very deliberately steered off course.

  Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if her parents were actually matchmaking with this scheme of theirs. Not in the romantic sense—but they’ve both mentioned on occasion that it’s a shame that the two of us aren’t as close as we used to be.

  Both Lucy and I have happily let them believe it’s due to circumstance—me taking care of Pops, her off taking over the hospitality world or some shit.

  The way she gives me one last glare before flicking her finger to knock her sunglasses back over her eyes tells me she intends to keep her parents in the dark, even though she’d like nothing more than to go toe-to-toe with me right now.

  But the way she snarls “Asshole” under her breath as we pass going around the back of the car lets me know we’ll go toe-to-toe later.

  As Lucy gives her parents and sister one last round of hugs, I man-hug Craig, a little surprised to feel a little sting of regret as he thumps my back once, and then again, as though not quite ready to let go.

  I’ve been so hell-bent on getting out of this town, getting a fresh start where I’m not the poor boy who lost his mother, later to be defined as the surly boy with the attitude.

  But I realize now that as much shit as I’m leaving behind, there’s good stuff too, and all of it’s right here in this driveway.

  “See you, man,” Craig says.

  His voice seems just a little hoarser than usual, and I nod, suddenly extra-glad we’re both wearing sunglasses.

  “Talk soon,” I say.

  He nods, then jerks his chin toward Lucy. “Take care of her. I guess I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve always been better at it than me.”

  I go still, waiting for any hint that he knows what’s up between us, but he sounds dead serious, as though he really thinks I’m the best person to care for the cyclone that is Lucy.

  His trust rips at me a little bit, but instead I nod, and say the only thing I can. “I will. Always.”

  Craig’s head turns slightly, verifying that his sister is still being mauled by his mother, and then steps closer. “Watch this Oscar character. None of us like him.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Thought none of you had met him.”

  “Exactly.”

  With that bit of uselessness, Craig flashes me his old familiar grin and slaps at the hood of the car in a final farewell with a “Take care man,” before going around the car to forcibly maneuver Lucy away from her parents, giving her a hug, and then none-too-gently shoving her into the passenger seat.

  I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  I lift my hand once more, gesturing goodbye to the family that has practically been my own, the house where I’ve spent more than a few holidays, and amid a refrain of “Drive safe, call often,” I climb into the car beside the girl who once was very nearly the death of me.

  There’s a moment of almost suffocating silence, and I wonder if I’m even capable of surviving the next two weeks.

  Then Lucy rolls down the window, and the pressure eases, but only for a minute, because she maneuvers half of her body out of the window to wave goodbye to her family with both arms, and the position gives me a prime view of her tight ass in her tiny shorts.

  Yeah. No chance in hell are we both going to make it through these two weeks alive.

  Chapter 7

  LUCY, SIXTEEN, REECE, SEVENTEEN

  “Damn it, Lucy, you’re giving me whiplash,” he said, rubbing at his neck before turning to glare at her.

  “Not my fault Horny’s older than the U.S. Constitution.”

  He laughed. “That’s specific.”

  “I had a quiz in U.S. History today,” she muttered as she fiddled with the controls, trying to find the windshield wipers.

  “You just turned on your brights.”

  Lucy sighed and let her hands drop into her lap. “I don’t know why you agreed to teach me to drive when you obviously don’t want to be here.”

  “Because your parents know you don’t listen to them, and I lost a bet with your brother. Plus, I’m the only one with keys to this part of Mr. Jensen’s property where there’s not
hing but dirt and weeds for you to destroy.”

  Lucy tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Is this where you learned to drive?” she asked, looking around at the big nothingness that was part of the winery property where Reece worked.

  “Yup.”

  “Who taught you, your dad?”

  He looked away. “Nah.”

  “Trish?”

  He snorted. “Would that have been before or after she left for Vegas without so much as a goodbye note?”

  Lucy swallowed, annoyed with herself for bringing up his deserting sister and the dad who barely registered that he had a son.

  “Sorry,” she said softly.

  He dropped his head back against the headrest. “Don’t worry about it. And to answer your question, it was your dad who taught me.”

  She couldn’t help the laugh. “I love that he taught you, but not me.”

  “Maybe he knew that I would listen to him.” Reece turned his head and smiled at her, and for an annoying moment, Lucy’s breath caught.

  He was so good-looking she couldn’t stand it sometimes. No matter how hard she tried to remind herself that he was Reece, it was getting harder and harder to think of him as a brother figure.

  Especially when he was this close and there was no one around. Their gazes caught and held, and her mind flitted back to that first kiss. She thought about it a lot more than she should.

  She’d had a few kisses since then, but Reece had lied when he said that kisses got better after the first one.

  Nothing had even come close to that day in her bedroom.

  “We good for today?” he asked, breaking the moment. If it even was a moment.

  She laughed. “Well, let’s see, I learned the difference between the gas pedal and the brake, and…well, that’s about it.”

  “And turn signal,” he said, holding up a finger. “I’m a very good teacher, Luce.”

  “Uh-huh. I really owe you for the ten minutes you took out of your busy schedule of football and feeling up Abby Mancuso.”

  He gave a startled laugh. “Craig’s been ratting me out.”

  She forced a smile. “He doesn’t have to. I have eyes, and you guys are all over each other between classes.”

  “Careful there,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his missed calls. “You almost sound jealous.”

  She looked away and said nothing so he wouldn’t know how right he was.

  Reece pushed open the door of the family’s station wagon and stepped out. “Switch. I’ll drive you home.”

  Lucy reluctantly went back to the passenger side, knowing that it meant the end of their time together. It seemed that the older they got, the busier they got, and she hardly saw him anymore.

  Except at school, and she’d meant it when she said his mouth was always fused to the head of the debate team. A brainy, pretty blonde named Abby who made Lucy feel like a ditzy cheerleader in comparison.

  Probably because she was a ditzy cheerleader. And student body president, and theater darling, and track captain, and just about every other activity she thought would look good on her college application given that her grades were good but not great.

  On the way back to her house, Lucy forced herself to keep things light as they bickered and bantered back and forth in the way that had become their thing in recent months.

  They were still friends, but there was an almost frenemy edge to their conversations now. Almost as though that kiss a year earlier had made them realize they weren’t actually brother and sister, and now they put up walls however they could.

  A few minutes later, Reece pulled Horny into the Hawkinses’ garage before pulling the keys to his dad’s truck out of his pocket and heading down the drive. “Tell your parents hey,” he said, attention still locked on his phone.

  “Sure,” she said, lifting her hand in a lame wave he didn’t even see.

  She was just heading back into the garage when he called her name.

  Lucy turned.

  “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

  Lucy grinned back and nodded, hoping like hell that he’d never find out just how much seeing him had become the highlight of her week.

  The highlight of her everything.

  Chapter 8

  Lucy

  It feels like approximately eleven hours of stifling, awkward silence before I register that we haven’t even made it to the freeway yet.

  I glance at the dashboard clock, a little surprised to realize that Reece got it working again.

  It’s been three minutes since we pulled out of my driveway.

  Three minutes since I left my old life behind to embark on my new one with…him.

  I may hate the guy next to me with the sort of blistering loathing that only a scorned woman is capable of, but I hate awkward silences nearly as much, and my fat mouth opens before I can stop it.

  “So. How have you been?”

  Reece snorts and doesn’t even glance over as he turns on his blinker and pulls into the turn lane for the on-ramp. “Really? We’re doing this?”

  “Well, what exactly was your plan? To not speak to each other for two weeks?”

  “No, actually.” His thumbs drum against the steering wheel. “My plan was to make this trip alone in about five days, settle into my new job in Sonoma, and remain blissfully unaware that you were headed that same direction.”

  I glance over at that, a little disbelieving. “Oh come on. You know that California wine country has always been my dream. It didn’t occur to you that I might be there?”

  He shrugs and looks out the window. “It’s a big enough place. Pretty sure we could have managed to go an awful long time without seeing each other. You on one side of the business, me on the other.”

  I bristle a little. I wouldn’t go so far as to say there’s tension between the winemakers and the people who sell the wine, but it’s not unusual for winemakers to get up on their high horses because they’re the ones actually handling the grapes.

  And it’s not that I don’t admire them. Growing up in a wine country, albeit a new, up-and-coming one, I understand just how important the entire process of winemaking is, from the soil to the vines to the crush to the casks. I get all that. I was raised on it.

  But I resent the subtle implication that just because my passion is educating other people about that—showing them just how magical wine can be, with the right cheese or the right setting—that I’m somehow an insignificant talking head.

  Once upon a time, Reece understood this. Back when we sat up late into the night, my head on his shoulder, his fingers tangled in my hair, he’d listen as I talked about starting my own winery. Virginia, California, Argentina, Australia, it didn’t matter. And though he’d never said a word about his own dreams, I’d secretly always thought we were going to do it together—a small, boutique vineyard with wine that was both award-winning and affordable/approachable.

  I turn my head and look out the window. That was a long time ago.

  As he merges onto the freeway, it belatedly occurs to me that with him behind the wheel, he could easily ignore my route altogether and drive straight to California as was his original plan.

  I reach into the backseat and rummage around until I come up with the blue journal where I painstakingly planned the trip, with driving directions, motel options, and a place to jot thoughts about all the different stops.

  He’s heading south, at least. That’s a start.

  Reece glances over briefly at my notebook as I smooth my hand over the page where I’ve written Day One in curly letters across the top, followed by directions.

  “You know they have GPS for that, right?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Yeah. I’ll use that if we get lost. But it chews up the data on my phone, and I don’t want to pay the extra if I go over my monthly allowance.”

  He doesn’t respond, probably because he can’t turn my statement into a fight. />
  “I thought we could stop in Wilmington tonight. North Carolina,” I continue.

  “I know where Wilmington is, Luce. And why? We can easily make it to Miami in one day.”

  I grit my teeth, hating that he’s talking down to me, as though I hadn’t bothered to look up the distance from Virginia to Florida. He never used to do that. It’s one of the things I used to adore most about him (aside from his eyes, smile, hands, laugh, etc.)—the way he didn’t treat me like I was young and stupid the way Craig often did. Reece always treated me like we were equals, like I was every bit as smart as him, despite having been born a year later.

  That’s over, apparently.

  “I know we can make it,” I say. “But isn’t the entire point of this trip to do what we want to?”

  “What you want to, you mean.”

  “Well damn it, Reece, I didn’t freaking invite you. You had an out, and you didn’t take it.”

  “I didn’t exactly see you politely declining.”

  I open my mouth, then snap it shut, because he’s right. I’ve been stewing for two days now, pissed off that he got us into this, but the truth is I didn’t have to go along with it just because he did.

  The truth is…

  I don’t know the truth. The truth is I’m confused. And maybe the truth is, I’m a little curious as to why he said yes. Even more curious as to why I didn’t fight it.

  The man broke my heart. I should be keeping my distance, and yet…here we are.

  “What’s in Wilmington?” he asks, after a few more tense moments of silence. “Another boyfriend?”

  “Yes, another boyfriend,” I reply snidely. “Didn’t I mention it? I have four.”

  He changes lanes. “Hard to juggle?”

  “Not at all,” I say sweetly. “See, I just watched the way you attempted to juggle multiple girlfriends and failed, and then did the exact opposite.”

  He glances at me then, a mocking smile on his face. “Oh, sweetheart. When did I ever claim you as my girlfriend?”

  I suck in a quick breath, because it’s one of the more hurtful things he can say—dismissing that summer as though it were nothing.