Page 66 of Enticed
Jasmine: Gigi has dirt on all of us. She runs her empire on extortion. Like a mob boss.
Jacek: This thing is going to drive me nuts. I’m ready to pull my hair out and it’s not even nine a.m.
A throaty chuckle I hadn’t heard in far too long drew my attention to where Nash sat across from me at the table eating his breakfast. His eyes were full of mischief, and his lips were quirked in a devilish grin as he glanced at his phone.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about how this rubber chicken came into our dear nephew’s possession, would you?” I asked.
He peered up at me from under his lashes and attempted to conceal his mirth. “Not a thing,” he replied, but the twitch of his lips gave him away.
“Well played,” I commended before heading upstairs to get ready.
Half an hour later, I was slipping on my shoes by the door when I heard the rumble of Gabe’s truck coming up the driveway. I didn’t exactly want anyone to notice him picking me up even though my whole family knew I hung out with him andRory occasionally. Now that we’d crossed that line into intimate territory, I feared someone might catch on before we were ready to tell them.
I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder before bolting out the door. I was almost to the steps when my grandmother’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
I turned to find her sipping a cup of coffee in her favorite rocking chair.
“I-I’ve got plans this morning,” I answered, hoping she wouldn’t ask for too many details.
Her eyes flicked to the familiar truck closing in and back to me. Her lips turned up in a knowing smirk. “With Gabe?”
“Yes.” There was no sense in lying when she could see him rolling up in front of our house.
She studied me for a moment, and I squirmed beneath her assessing gaze. “Have fun,” she said finally.
I scurried down the steps and hopped into Gabe’s truck. I almost leaned over to kiss him, but caught myself at the last second. Instead, I turned to face Rory in the back seat. “Hey, kiddo.”
Gabe turned the truck around and led us off the property. “Are you going to tell us where we’re going now?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Can you give us a hint?”
I shook my head. “I can give you directions.”
“Good enough,” he relented with a chuckle.
Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to our destination, and I directed him where to park.
“What is this place?” he asked, looking out over the fields bursting with rows of produce.
“This is my cousin’s farm.”
“What are we going to do on a farm?” Rory asked, her tone inquisitive.
“We,” I began, throwing my arm over her shoulder, “are going blackberry
picking.”
“Oh, I love blackberries!”
“Me too.”
“Today is the first day Bluebell Farms is open to the public, and they agreed to let us in an hour early before anyone else gets here,” I revealed as we walked up to the gate. “We get to pick the first blackberries of the season.” My enthusiasm was contagious. She bounced on the balls of her feet and let out an exuberant, “Yes!” She practically vibrated with excitement as we waited for my dad’s cousin, Lily, to let us in. She could barely hold still long enough for Gabe to apply her sunscreen.
“Thanks for letting us do this,” I said when Lily opened the gate.
