“Fine, but you dragged it out of me. Remember that.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say, offering a three-finger salute. He smirks, then shakes his head.
“I’m crazy about you, Chelsea. Like, over the moon, head over heels, madly passionately crazy about you. I can’t imagine not waking up to you next to me—well, I can now, and I can tell you that it’s fucking miserable and I never want to do it again.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, eyes narrowed, heart racing like a greyhound.
“I love you. I love you so much it hurts not to tell you. So whatever you think about me, whether you believe me or not or think I’m trying to con you, just know that. I love you, Chelsea Garten. You’ve ruined me for everyone else.”
I’m speechless for a long moment, trying to parse that when he groans.
“See? I knew it wasn’t the right time to—”
“I love you too,” I say, jumping over the coffee table to pounce on him and kiss him.
He pulls back in shock, searching my eyes. “Really?”
“Of course, you dork. Why do you think I’m here?”
Then he kisses me like he’s on his dying breath. He kisses me like he’s off to the gallows and he needs to give me something to remember him by. But it’s not Ian who’s going off to the chopping block. It’s whoever set him up.
Finally, we break apart, but he doesn’t let me out of his arms. And to be honest, I don’t try very hard to get out of them. I missed this, and I’m not eager to give it up again.
“So, who do you think did it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Rosa really hates that we’re together.”
It’s true, but after this morning, I think she’s probably just as sad about our split as she was mad about our hooking up. She was probably already daydreaming about all the cutesy couple appearances we could do in the future after the tour. Rosa’s nothing if not good at finding an angle.
“I don’t think she’d do that. It hurt you, but it hurt me too, and it just made a lot of extra work for her.”
“Who, then?”
“It had to be someone that had access to your stuff between legs… Not too many people get near the jet…” Then I gasp, my eyes going wide as I turn to face him. “Kandy,” I whisper.
“Shit,” he mutters. “She was hanging outside my dressing room after you left, asking me when I started using again. She even said something weird about hoping I didn’t end up alone…”
“That snake,” I growl. “Probably doesn’t hurt that she got the scoop, being so close to the tour. No wonder everyone seems to know exactly what happened. I knew I didn’t like that woman.”
“But we can’t just accuse her. She’ll deny it and who’s going to take my word over hers?” he asks. I bat my eyes at him and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Besides you and Serge.”
“No, you’re right,” I sigh. “We need to find a way to prove it. Or a way to get her to admit it.”
“Actually, I have an idea,” he says, grinning at me. And it’s almost like nothing ever happened between us. It’s like the last night is erased and we’re just happy to be together again, everything easy and natural between us.
“All right, let’s hear it.”
He holds me tight as he lays out the plan for me and his hands drift over my body. It’s nice. It’s gentle, his exploration of me, like he’s just reminding himself of what he nearly lost. I don’t think he means to, but it’s driving me crazy and by the time he’s explained his whole plan, I’m ready to straddle him right here on the couch.
“So, what do you think?” he asks, his rough thumb absently drawing slow circles over my hipbone.
I nod. “It could work.”
“That’s it?”
“What else should I say?” I ask, nearly gasping at the way his thumb sends shocks of hot need directly between my legs.
“Well, you almost always have something to say about my plans. You’re not exactly the agreeable type, you know? You can be kind of opinionated.”