Made for You (The Best Mistake 2)

“And for you, it’s what…skipping a day of flossing?”

Brynn made a face and scooped up another spoonful of cereal. “Please. I would never skip flossing. But I did go rock climbing the other day.”

She heard the smugness in her tone, and didn’t care. It had been exhilarating, and completely unlike the safety of yoga.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Really? Where?”

She shifted slightly. “Nearby.”

“I’ve gone rock climbing a few times with a friend. I might know the spot.”

She purposefully ate a too big bite of cereal so she wouldn’t have to answer.

“Brynn…” Will said in a low voice, leaning toward her. “Was this ‘rock climbing’…indoors?”

She gazed back at him, stubbornly refusing to answer.

Will sighed. “You went to the flagship REI store and did it there, didn’t you? You know, scaling a fake rock at a sporting-goods store is meant to be training for rock climbing, not actual rock climbing.”

Brynn waved this away. “It’s like I said…it’s all relative.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “Hurry up and finish that, would you. We need to get on the road.”

Brynn froze. Get on the road? “Could you be more specific?”

“Not without ruining the entire point.”

“What point?”

He reached over and ruffled her already mussed hair. “Furthering your understanding of spontaneity. You’ve come along nicely from your previous paralyzed self, but you have miles to go before we can remove ‘uptight’ and ‘rigid’ from your personality profile.”

“I have plans today,” she said, scowling up at him.

“Exactly the problem. You have absolutely no idea how to take even the most tepid of getaways. Screw the plans.” He stood and rinsed his coffee mug before putting it in the sink. “Where do you keep your luggage? And no proper suitcase. I want your oldest, ugliest duffel bag.”

“But I don’t have an old duffel bag,” she said in confusion. “They’re bad for your back. The wheeled suitcases are really much better—”

He threw up his hands. “Fine. Where’s your fancy suitcase?”

She was apparently still addled by sleep, because she heard herself directing him to her luggage as she finished her cereal and coffee and tried to figure out what he was up to.

Brynn frowned when she realized he hadn’t come back into the kitchen. “Will?”

She went looking for him and she walked in on her worst nightmare. “What are you doing?” she wailed, dashing toward her suitcase. “Everything will be a wrinkled mess.”

“Kind of the point,” he said with a grin, elbowing her out of the way and dropping a wadded-up pair of jeans into her designer suitcase. “Get some socks. The warmish kind, it’s supposed to be rainy and cool.”

“Just my kind of vacation,” she muttered. Still, she did as instructed, pulling out a few pairs of her comfiest socks. She started to reach for her more comfortable bras and panties, but he stopped her.

“Uh-uh. The sexy stuff.”

Brynn narrowed her eyes. “You’re packing my oldest jeans, rattiest sweatshirts, and tennis shoes, yet you want me to bring silk and lace?”

He dropped a baggy sweater into the suitcase—unfolded—before advancing on her, backing her into the dresser. He backed her into things a lot. She liked it.

“Actually, how about we forget the silk and stockings,” he said, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck. “Let’s go with…nothing at all.”

“Ah, so it’s that kind of vacation,” she said, letting her head dip back so he could have better access to her collarbone.