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Woke Up Like This(63)

Author:Amy Lea

“I feel like it has to be somewhere new. To throw them off,” I suggest.

He strokes his chin in contemplation. “How about Walnut Creek? Me and the guys used to fish there sometimes. They might actually catch on depending on the clue. And there’s a lot of tree coverage to hide the car. Fry me.” He leans over as I slip a fry between his lips.

I take in a breath and shift my gaze to the window. “That works. What’s our hint?”

Renner shrugs, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. “Dunno. You’re the brains of this operation.”

I drum my fingers on my thigh. “How about good fats? Since nuts and fish are full of fat?”

Renner raises his brow. “That’s . . . abstract. You really think they’ll guess that?”

“Okay, fine. Something simpler . . . How about nuts about fishing?”

“I like it.”

It’s pitch black when we pull into the Walnut Creek parking lot. A thick, spooky expanse of dense woods closes in on either side. Renner pulls into a little private clearing with a partial view of the water.

He kills the ignition and reaches into my lap for another fry, lingering as he tries to locate one at the bottom of the near-empty container. I wonder what it would be like if his hand shifted to my thigh. I let the visual consume me for all of two seconds before tossing the traitorous fantasy out the window into the cool night breeze.

I cross and uncross my limbs, distracted by his charming smile, and I have no idea where to avert my gaze. I frown at him. “Please don’t smile at me like that.”

His smile broadens, and I feel like he can read my mind despite his innocent little shrug. “What’s wrong with smiling? You don’t like smiling?”

I shield my eyes. “You sound like Buddy the Elf.”

He places a hand over his chest. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“And your teeth are distracting,” is all I can think to say.

“My teeth?”

I fold up the greasy fry bag and roll it into a ball, setting it on the ground at my feet. “They’re very white.”

He closes his mouth, but his grin lingers. “Sorry. I’ll abandon my strict oral hygiene routine if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It will make me feel better.”

He smiles. “Fine.”

“Fine,” I say, intent on getting the last word.

We stare at the dock for a while. It’s quiet, save for the shift of fabric as Renner settles and resettles in his seat, unable to sit still. Since we parked, he’s moved the window up and down at least three times.

“Guess our clue wasn’t that easy,” he finally says.

“No. It was super obvious. But it’s only been, like, ten minutes. Give them some time. If they don’t get here in fifteen, we’ll fire off another hint.”

“I’m gonna stretch my legs,” he says, getting out of the car and strolling toward the dock. He sits on the edge and stares into the smooth blackness of the creek.

I could use some fresh air too. The uncalled-for fantasies are clouding my head. I follow him into the cool night, onto the swaying dock. I don’t speak as I sit next to him. Our thighs are just barely touching, though I can still feel the heat from his body.

It smells a little like swamp, but the croak of nature soothes whatever strange energy has been flowing between us.

“Can I ask you a question?” Renner finally asks.

“Sure, at your own peril.” I straighten my shoulders, bracing myself for a dumb joke or insult.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to push me in the creek?” he asks.

I take in a breath, pretending to be offended. “About a solid six. Drowning is way too basic, though. And it’s a relatively quick death—” My breath hitches when I realize what I’ve just said. Renner freezes too, awaiting my reaction. “Oof. I went there and brought up death already.”

“Yes, yes you did.”

We watch each other for a few breaths before simultaneously bursting out in laughter. Strangely, laughing my ass off feels much more relieving than crying.

“Why must I be so morbid?” I manage, gripping the dock for support with one hand, and clutching my now-sore stomach with the other.

“Hey, there’s something to be said for dark humor. Speaking of, glad to know you’d draw out my suffering as long as you could.”

“Yeah. Casual torture seems like a good starting point for you. But I’m trying to work on being a team player, so I’m open to suggestions,” I note.

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