The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

There was a red splotch at the base of her throat to match the pink in her cheeks now, but her nipples were hard, too, two twin peaks pressing against the thin cotton of her T-shirt. At least he wasn’t the only one affected.

She stared up at him, the brown of her eyes darkening to almost black. “I might just have to leave you on the side of the road once we’re a few hours into the drive.”

“Very funny,” he said, amused by her attempt to scare him. “Like the drive is going to be hours.”

For the first time since he’d walked out of the passengers-only area, Hadley smiled. “Web didn’t tell you?”

His stomach sank, and that old familiar gurgle in his gut started. “Didn’t tell me what?”

Her smile got even bigger, transforming her entire face and making her eyes sparkle with undeniable glee. “We’re going to be at my family’s ranch all week.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” Cows. Grassland. Saddle sores and barn stink.

“It’s a five-hour drive from the airport.”

Each word came out slowly, like a tiny little bomb that hit harder than she could have realized. Since childhood, he’d been able to make it two hours tops before the car got to him and he puked his guts up. After five hours? His stomach was already rebelling at the hell that was before him.

Web had set him up, no doubt as an oversize punishment for Will giving him a slight case of food poisoning. So much for brotherly love.

“You’re kidding,” he finally managed to get out.

“Not even close.” She giggled, and the sound scared him more than anything else. “Get ready, city boy—you’re about to take a long drive in the country.”

This was not going to end well.

Chapter Five

The look on Will’s face when she’d told him how long the drive was going to be had been priceless. Seriously. Not even he could have afforded it. Hadley was going to treasure that oh-shit-what-have-I-done expression for the rest of her life.

Served the big jerk right, even if after an hour on the highway, he’d gone quiet and— She glanced over, and her stomach dropped. He had a distinctive green sheen to his face, his jaw had gone from square to

rigid, and he kept flexing his fingers but otherwise remained perfectly still.

Oh shit.

“Are you okay?” she asked, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted the gas station ahead sign, regret snipping at her for not noticing earlier that he was obviously in real misery, not the spoiled and bored kind.

“Perfect.” He gave her the smallest nod possible, maintaining a stick-straight posture. “As always.”

Lord have mercy. What, was he too rich and privileged to get car sick? Of course he would think so. The sun rose and set on his command.

“Are you ever not full of shit?” And to think she’d felt bad for him for a whole half a second before he went all Will Holt on her.

He turned in his seat, winced, and then let out a shaky breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

She side-eyed him. “What does that mean?”

“We both know why you are so-called friends with Web.”

“Because we actually are?” They had been pretty much since they met and bonded over their mutual hatred of candy corn and love of office supply stores.

“Yeah.” Will let out a weak chuckle. “As long as he has all that money in the bank, you’re friends.”

He couldn’t be serious. She glanced over from the long, straight highway that went on forever and glared at him. He didn’t flinch. That’s when realization struck. That’s why he hated her? He thought she was after Web for his money? Disbelief and righteous indignation whipped through her, making her whole body sizzle. What a total and complete jerk.

“Oh no,” she said, sarcasm thick in her tone as she turned her attention back to the road. “You caught me. I’m really just softening him up so he’ll fall in love with me and then bam, I’ll steal his money and have an affair with the pool boy and the upstairs maid.” She shook her fist in mock frustration. “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for you being an interfering jerk who assumes he knows everything.” She stopped shaking her fist and flipped him off. “Breaking news, you don’t.”

He snorted. “Don’t bother denying it. I know all about how you’re always talking to Web about moving the Holt Foundation money over to your client list. I know about the meals and cab rides where he picks up the check. I know about all the planning-for-tomorrow IG posts with photos of homes that only someone in our income bracket could afford. You’re good, I’ll give you that—it’s never too over-the-top. It’s as subtle as the way you always point out that the expensive outfits in the storefronts near the rugby field are gorgeous but that you’ll never be able to afford them without winning the lottery—or marrying a millionaire. I doubt Web has even noticed the way you’re working the long con and planting these little ideas. Plus, if you can’t get your money by marrying into it, you can use Web’s money to climb the corporate ladder. I suppose you look at him and see the perfect mark.”