Two coffees sat on the dresser, the green goddesses on the side of the cups mocking me. Those smug smiles followed me around the suite as I picked my dirty clothes up off the floor and tossed them in the suitcase on the bed. It’s like the judgmental bitches could read my thoughts. Like they knew I’d been awake half the night with a hard-on, obsessing about everything from the freckles on Tori’s nose—I counted seven—to the way her eyelashes fluttered when she was nervous, to the little humming sound she made when she was happy.

My gaze shifted to the clock. Almost seven.

Maybe Tori wasn’t going to take me up on my invitation after all. For all I knew, she was already on the Leveraged tour bus. And that would be the best thing. We could arrive in St. Louis separately and go about the tour in much the way we started. Maybe a little closer. But there would be no more adjoining rooms. No pizza and movies. The more I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea. It was for the best.

I’d just convinced myself when I felt a little tickle, like fireflies dancing under my skin. And something else.

Relief.

Because I knew Tori was there, hovering behind me by the door, all wrapped up in a cloud of cinnamon and sugar. The girl smelled like a cookie. And all I wanted to do was taste her.

Banishing the wayward thought, I turned to face her, and when I got a load of what she was wearing, my casual smile slid right off my face, along with any lingering hope I had of arriving in St. Louis without a massive case of blue balls.

Tori’s cheeks pinked, and she tugged at the bottom of her cut-offs, but it was the red cowboy boots that had my full attention. Maybe you had to be born in Texas to appreciate the visual.

“Nice boots,” I managed to say when I finally peeled my tongue off the roof of my mouth. “You ready, princess?”

Her nose barely twitched. And that was a good thing. Because the name suited her, and I wasn’t going to stop using it.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are we driving?”

We.

The added bit of assurance chased away any doubts about her intentions. She was going. That is, if I could convince her that my offer had nothing to do with pity. Instinctively, I knew Tori detested the emotion as much as I did. But it’s not like I could tell her the truth either—that I wanted to lay her down in my backseat on some deserted road and fuck her stupid.

“You ever seen the world’s largest ball of twine?” Tori’s brow arched, and she shook her head. “I have. And yeah, it’s as boring as it sounds. Anna and Lily mapped out a bunch of stops between here and St. Louis. In case you were wondering, I don’t feel like visiting the thimble museum either.”

She pondered for a moment, her brow scrunched with worry. “But what happens after that? Once you get as far as St. Louis, you can’t just drive back.”

I closed the distance between us. “We play it by ear. I was never planning on driving back anyway. That’s what transports are for.”

Her brow went up again. “You’re going to put your car on a transport?”

“It’s just a car.” Somehow, I said it with a straight face. “Where’s your suitcase?”

She mulled over my response for a good ten seconds before she relaxed and said, “It’s in my room.” When I took a step in that direction, her palm met my chest. “I can get it.”

Why was everything with this girl a fight? And more importantly—why was my dick twitching?

She took off, and with a sigh, I followed. Cutting in front of her, I lifted the rollaway off her bed.

As soon as the suitcase was on the floor, she took the handle. “I got it.”

This time, I knew she was serious and I figured something out from the exchange. Tori would let me help her but only if she really needed it.

I held up my hands in surrender. “Suit yourself.”

On the way back to my room, she snatched a flannel shirt from the chair.

“It’s going to be hot as hell today,” I said as I scooted around her to zip my suitcase. “I don’t think you need layers.”

By the time I looked around to see if I’d missed anything, Tori had the shirt tied around her waist. Adjusting the fabric, she took great care to cover the scar on her thigh.

I realized I was invading her private moment when she blinked at me. And once again I found myself behind her wall. She pinned a small smile to her lips that I wanted to kiss right off.

Stalking to the dresser, I grabbed the coffees. “How about I get the suitcase and you take care of the important stuff?”

Slowly, her fingers unfurled from the handle of her rollaway. “Okay,” she said quietly as she took the tray.

I wanted to tell her this wasn’t a battle. There was no surrender. But I didn’t think she’d listen. So I decided I’d just have to show her.