Page 19 of Wild & Worthy

The lock clicks into place instantly.

I stand there in the dark for a second, the fairgrounds humming quietly around me before I head back to my truck. I sit behind the wheel and stare at the camper door.

What the hell is wrong with me? Night one, we haven't even left Billings, and I'm already standing here at midnight telling Eli's little sister that I'm trying not to fuck her?

I drop my head back against the seat. This is going to be a long-ass summer.

Chapter seven

Addie

The asshole is going fifteen under the speed limit, and I know it's intentional.

I've been following Chace for two solid hours on our way to meet Eli and Hazel. It’s like watching someone conduct psychological warfare from the cab of a pickup. Sixty-five one minute, fifty the next. No traffic, no reason, nothing — just brake lights flickering on and off like sadistic Morse code while I white-knuckle my steering wheel and contemplate murder for the tenth time in the last hour.

Either he's fucking with me on purpose, or he's got a finger up his ass. Either way, my foot's going in there next if he doesn't cut it out.

This started first thing this morning, which, in hindsight, might have been partially my attitude. But that is beside the point. My bad mood is still his fault, and I'm sticking to it.

I climbed out of the camper at six in the morning to find Chace already up, already caffeinated, grinning at me like the sunrise was a Christmas gift he'd been asking for all year. He was leaning against the truck in a white T-shirt that, honestly, had no business fitting that well. His hat was backward, light brown hair curling from beneath the edges, and two days of stubble shadowing his jaw. My attention snagged on the veins running up his forearm where he held his coffee mug, and once I'd noticed that, it was impossible not to notice the rest of him.

Which was annoying. Being effortlessly, unreasonably good-looking before sunrise should be illegal.

Who looks like that at six in the morning?

Nobody should look like that at six in the morning. It was rude, frankly. Basically a character flaw.

He'd somehow found coffee for me too, which I should have recognized as a tactical move, but didn't, because I was still stupidly distracted by the way his shirt curved around the muscles on his upper arms.

I was mid-first-sip when he started in.

"We're hauling the camper and Dusty on my truck going forward."

I lowered the cup. "The fuck we are."

"It makes sense. Newer truck, better mileage, more relia—"

"My truck is plenty reliable."

I said it with complete conviction, completely ignoring the fact that I’ve had to have the brakes done twice this year.

Chace shrugged, grin never wavering. "Suit yourself. But we're burning daylight, and I'm not spending another night in Billings."

I glared at him over the rim of my cup, savoring my victory.

The asshole then turned away and unhooked my camper clips from my truck bed like I hadn't even spoken.

"Hey. I didn't agree to this!" I shouted at him, storming in his direction.

"Your truck's been in the shop three times this month," he said, continuing to unbuckle the straps. "There's a ton of miles ahead of us, Addie. You literally just had some rando adjust your wheel bearing. You really want to risk it?"

My grip tightened around my coffee. I hated that he had a point. Hated even more that my mind immediately went to Ryder fixing the truck—and the friction it had caused between Chace and me. Like what the hell was that?

Because I'm trying not to fuck you. He’d said while standing entirely too close. So close that I could see his Adam's apple bob. Close enough for his scent to envelop me, sending shivers down my spine.

That memory of last night had me conceding and letting him win.

Ass.