She’d rarely seen anything more gorgeous.
How many other magical spots had they rushed past in their haste, all because she hadn’t wanted to leave on Saturday? They could have spent three more nights in each other’s arms. Three more days bickering and kissing and exploring.
Three more days having fun.
When was the last time she’d simply had fun?
When she got back to her feet, he entwined their fingers, his smile fading.
“You look …” He frowned. “I don’t know. Is something wrong?”
“I was thinking about how much fun I’ve had with you.” Getting on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to the scoop of bare skin at his neck, above his tee. He was warm there. Salty. “Thank you for suggesting a road trip together.”
That gray gaze sharpened on her, and his hands tangled in her hair, keeping her head tipped back to see his face.
“Let’s extend the trip.” The words were abrupt. Intense. “After the wedding, let’s just keep going. I’ve always wanted to drive across the country, and neither one of us is working right now. We could stretch it out over three or four months, easily.”
Oh, that was tempting. Much, much too tempting.
But his financial situation wasn’t hers, unfortunately. “Alex, the production isn’t covering my rent anymore. I can’t afford to take an indefinite amount of time off.”
He opened his mouth, and she held up a hand. “If you offer me money, I will turn around and climb back in that car and ask for a separate room tonight. If I’m sleeping with you, you’re not paying me.”
His lower lip poked out, and it shouldn’t be attractive. It wasn’t.
Okay, it was, but she was resisting its pouty allure.
“You’d be worth the money.” He waggled his brows. “Just saying.”
She set her fists on her hips and scowled at him. “Once again, please let me remind you that this is not—I repeat, not—Pretty Woman.”
“Fine.” He glowered down at her, still sulking, but he didn’t argue. “When do you need to start work again?”
“I’d rather not drain my savings, so …” Her sigh was so deep, it hurt her chest, and she rubbed a hand over her sternum. “Six weeks after we get back, maybe? And no matter which job I choose, I’ll need time to prepare.”
Heaving his own sigh, he reached out and folded her into his arms, hugging her close. “You’re the worst, Wren. The absolute worst. Good thing you’re so cute.”
Literally no one else in her life had ever called her cute. Not one.
And now her chest was hurting even more. Dammit.
“Tell me about your work options.” He was bending low again, despite his poor back, his lips against her hair. “Knowing you, I’m sure they’re all miserable.”
Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. But he wasn’t entirely right either.
“I could join a university friend’s group practice.” His palm was sliding soothingly up and down her back, and she leaned her forehead against his chest. “I like her, but I’m iffy about a couple of the other therapists in the group.”
At her friend’s urging, Lauren had met her potential coworkers soon after leaving the ER. Only to find that two of the guys, both younger psychoanalytic therapists, were condescending as hell and shared way too much information about their clients to a near-stranger.
Later that night, she and Sionna had coined the term therapy bros, and it fit the men all too well.
“That said, I don’t know how much contact I’d actually have with them on a daily basis.” She lifted a shoulder. “My work there would be different than what I’m used to. The people I’d see would need help, obviously, but typically wouldn’t arrive in the middle of a life-threatening, acute crisis. And I’d meet with clients over the course of months or years, rather than evaluating them once and sending them somewhere else.”
That part of things appealed to her. The ability to help a client over a stretch of time, to see any progress made … it sounded fulfilling, at least in theory.
He cupped the nape of her neck, kneading the taut muscles there, and she dissolved into him. “Okay. So what are your other options?”
“There’s only one other choice, really.” She rubbed her cheek against his tee. “I could go back to the ER.”
His body tensed, turning to stone against hers, and he straightened abruptly. “Why—”
He sputtered for a few seconds, then found the words. The furious, furious words.