“Then there was fishing at the lake.”
“Ugh. Worms.”
He laughs and I know he’s thinking of my squeal when he made me put one on the hook all by myself.
“But you caught a fish.”
“I did.”
“And then there was the city’s three-legged sack race.”
“Longest one in the United States.” I flash a bright smile thinking of the heat, the awkwardness of our legs being tied together, and the frustration every time we’d fall.
“I’ve got your longest one right here.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Whatever.”
“Are you complaining?”
“None, whatsoever,” I say as he takes another lick of the frosting.
“Then there was the blindfold challenge.”
“I don’t care what you say, but making me taste Vegemite without giving me a warning it would taste like . . . I don’t know what it tastes like, but I’ll make sure to never eat it again.” I shiver at the thought of being blindfolded and having to taste five things he fed me.
“Don’t be dissing one of my favs.”
“Believe me, if I decide to visit down under, it definitely won’t be to eat that crap.” But there’s something about my comment that has him angling his head to the side and just staring.
“I can think of plenty of other benefits to going down under.” His voice is coy, the lick of his lips suggestive. My body reacts immediately when he puts the bowl down beside him and walks the few feet to where I’m sitting.
His eyes darken and hold mine as he picks up my aching feet and begins to work his thumb over the arch. I’m more than aware I only recited four of the outings we had but right now all I can focus on is his magic hands. “Oh, god that feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“Right there.”
He continues to rub. I continue to make appreciative noises very similar to keening and moaning.
“Not that I’m complaining by any means, Cinder, but why do you always insist on wearing heels?”
“Why not?” A soft smile plays on my lips. “I can either be a high-heel in life or a flip-flop. I choose high heel. Sophisticated and classy. Do they hurt? Yes. Do I look the part I want to be? Always.” He smiles and shakes his head as I let mine fall back on the chair as he continues to rub. “Don’t. Ever. Stop.”
“I’ll remind you of those three words later.”
“Mmm,” I murmur as that sweet simmer spreads throughout my body at the promise in his words.
“I have champagne if you want some.”
“Champagne?” I ask.
“To celebrate.”
Now he has my attention. I lift my head back up to meet his eyes. “Celebrate what?”
“Well, we’re now more than halfway through this bus tour that I swear will end up being my demise if Robert has his way—”
“God love him.” I laugh but Zane levels me with a get serious look.
“And because the subscription numbers have now smashed all predictions. I hate to admit it and I’ll never say it to his face, but Robert was on to something with this showing real life crap. The site’s video section is getting so much traffic it’s ridiculous.”
“Congratulations!” I say. “That’s incredible and awesome and oh God, that means he’s going to make us do more of these stunts isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.” Zane’s chuckle rumbles around the stainless steel filled kitchen and echoes back to me. “Just think, that also means you’re over halfway done with having to put up with me. You’ll get to be home in your own bed with Lula and back to your life.”
“Yay,” I say, my voice chock-full of enthusiasm to mask the sudden flicker of panic his words have brought me.
Over halfway done.
It hits me right there in the middle of a kitchen in a culinary school with Zane rubbing my feet, cupcakes on the counter ready to be eaten and my own doubts spinning in a constant circle in my head—but none of it seems to matter.
I’m falling for Zane Phillips.
I’m falling for him and our time left is limited.
The countdown is on.
THE COACH STOPS, THEN STARTS.
A jake-brake sounds down the road.
The headlights glare in the windows at times. And at others, the world beyond seems like a pitch-black maze of nothingness that goes on forever.
It’s the most I’ve ever travelled in my life and unfortunately all I’m seeing of it are ballrooms and hotels and endless stretches of highway at night.
Zane plays absently with my hair as we relax on the couch. He’s sitting, watching the news, and I’m lying down with my head on his thigh, eyes closed, trying to process how this is currently my life.
“I can’t believe how many people showed up tonight,” I say.
“I was surprised, but shouldn’t be. The subscription numbers reflect a buzz from the first wave of people we allowed to start using the platform this week. Robert’s suggestion to do it so they post on social media was the right one.”
“I heard you on the phone with him earlier. Everything sounded like good news from what I could understand.”
“Very good news.”