Yes, Brynn and Annie had schooled him on bra cup definitions when they were freshmen in high school, when he was still too squirrelly to know the difference between being horny all the time and being in love with his best friend. But fucking Christ on a cracker, he knew the difference now, and he could safely say that at that very moment he was experiencing both.
He didn’t have to say anything because Brynn followed his bug-eyed stare right to the source, and she barked out a laugh. Her skin turned as pink as the part he wasn’t supposed to see, and she quickly buttoned not only the one that had come undone but one more above it for safe measure.
“I guess it’s a good thing it’s just us on the side of this creepy little road, right?” she asked, crossing her arms not-so-nonchalantly over her chest. “Is it legal to do that?”
She nodded toward the can of paint he’d forgotten was in his hand, and Jamie cleared his throat. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.
“It’s kind of an unwritten rule that tourists can, um, contribute…to the art.” He gave her a quick explanation of Cadillac Ranch, the art exhibit turned collaborative tourist experience.
Brynn walked up to the car closest to them, reading some of the inscriptions already on it.
Kisses and hugs to our fam + friends.
Jack was here.
Randy 08.
“Well,” she said. “I don’t think you can top Randy 08.We might as well just go home.”
Jamie laughed. He’d been choking on bitterness for five hours, the taste of it burning a hole in his stomach, yet all she had to do was say something so simply Brynn, and he laughed. No matter what his feelings were for this girl—this woman—she was the friend who could always make him smile, and maybe that didn’t have to change. He got over her once before, didn’t he? Enough to live his life without pining, at least. He could do it again if it meant they’d always have this.
She walked around the half-buried car, running her fingers along the undercarriage before ending up back where she began, facing him.
“Are you still fine?” she asked, her eyes hesitant behind their protective glass. And his gut twisted at the way he’d treated her when she’d received Spencer’s text. She didn’t deserve his jealous reaction or the way he froze her out after that. He wasn’t alone on this trip, but for the past five hours he’d acted like he was, and the only person he had to blame for missing out on actually spending that time with Brynn, instead of alongside her, was himself.
He closed the distance between them but stopped short of his usual gesture, a kiss to the top of her head. Instead he used his free hand to tug on one of her curls.
“Better than fine, Sleepy Jean.”
At this she laughed. “I can’t believe I passed out for…how long has it been?”
He spread his arms wide as if greeting her.
“Welcome to Amarillo.”
…
Brynn toed the dirt at her feet with the worn white rubber of her favorite gray Chuck Taylors. She’d missed the whole day? She’d roused a few times from her slumber, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut through the tension that filled the space between her and Jamie in the truck. So she’d chosen more sleep each time instead of making the first move.
She could feel it now, the clearing of the air between them, but it also felt like something had shifted. An acceptance, almost, coming from both of them. But an acceptance of what? His smile, the way he wrapped her hair around his finger and gave it a playful yank, was an apology of sorts. Jamie didn’t need to say it, because she felt it.
Now, when she swatted his hand away and poked him in the belly—were his abs always that hard?—she hoped he read that as her I’m sorry. Brynn wasn’t sure what she was sorry for or if she even owed him an apology, but as much as she wanted this trip to have the ending she’d been waiting for, she wanted to know that she and Jamie would be okay when it was over, too. And right now she was pretty sure they would be.
“Do you want to do the honors?” Jamie held the can of paint in her direction, but she shook her head.
“This is your trip, James. I’m just a stowaway. Do whatever you would have done if I weren’t here.”
Jamie shrugged as he walked toward the car and then shook out his arms in exaggerated preparation, and she watched his black T-shirt sleeves pull taut against his biceps. She was grateful his back was to her now so he couldn’t see her involuntarily lick her lips, an action she rationalized as a response to the dry Texas heat and not the warmth pooling inside of her.
He stood facing the roof of the buried car and then in one leap was standing on it right where it framed the back windshield.
“Jesus!” Brynn blurted the word, her heart leaping as Jamie faltered for a millisecond and then righted himself. She had lurched forward with the word and then laughed at the ridiculous gesture. It’s not like she could have caught him if he fell. No way in hell. Instead they would have both lain in a broken heap until another car full of tourists with spray cans showed up.
Jamie winked at her, and this time the voice in her head was the one to scream Jesus!