All I Wanna Do Is You: A Road Trip Rom-Com

by Dylann Crush

  “Can I ask you for a favor?” Reagan bit her bottom lip while she waited for him to answer.

  Zach let out a laugh. “A favor, huh? Sure, hit me up. What else could I possibly do for you?”

  “Forget it.”

  His hand lowered to her thigh, and he ran his fingers over the thin fabric of her pants, causing a spark of heat to ignite deep inside her. “No, really. What do you need?”

  Finally, not able to take it anymore, she clasped his hand in hers. “You know my photographer canceled. I don’t know what kind of job you have booked, but if you’d be willing to take photos of the wedding, I’d double whatever they’re paying you. I’m in a real bind.”

  He pulled his hand from hers and put it back on the wheel. “Reagan, I’m not exactly a wedding photographer. I don’t have the right equipment.”

  “Whatever you do would be better than me racing around with my iPhone. Please?”

  “There’s no way your dad will want me there.”

  “I already mentioned it to him, he’s totally on board.” At least he would be when she told him it was the only option. Who else was she going to be able to find on such short notice?

  His gaze slid to meet hers. “Really? Your dad said he was on board with this?”

  “Mmm hmm.” Little white lie. By the time they arrived she’d have a chance to let her dad know. What was the big deal anyway?

  “Let me think about it.”

  “For how long? I need to figure something out before we get to Miami. If you can’t do it then I need to try to line someone else up.” Why hadn’t she tried harder to find a replacement last night? Instead she’d let Zach distract her. Zach and his amazing mouth, his talented tongue, his secret embellishment…

  “I need to make a few calls. I’ll let you know when we stop for gas.” He glanced her way and she nodded.

  She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms. If she failed to come through for Teddy, she’d have to live with it for the rest of her life. Zach would have to agree. In the meantime, she needed to make sure there wouldn’t be any other surprises. Plus, she still had to determine how she was going to get from Miami to the island.

  Those calls would have to wait. Even though she had shared more with Zach than she had with anyone else over the past few years, she still couldn’t let him know exactly where she was headed unless he took the photography job. She’d have to keep the exact location a secret until she convinced him to go with her.

  16

  Zach tried to hold it together when Reagan popped the question. Would he be willing to take pictures of the wedding? Did she really just fucking hand him a potential golden ticket? On a silver platter? The twinge knifed into his stomach, like it was splitting in half.

  His mind jumped into overdrive with the possible outcomes. Six figures for pictures of the wedding? Could he fill his camera with shots and leak one or two to Scazzoli? Cash in on the big payout while getting Scazzoli off his back for good? If he didn’t give Reagan copies of the ones he passed on, she might think another guest took them.

  But if she was as smart as he figured, she’d probably make everyone check their phones in before they could go to the wedding. Then she’d know any extra photos came from him. That would be one way to guarantee she’d shut him out of her life for good. He’d cash in and set up shop and Reagan would go on with her life. Her family would get over the scandal. With her dad in politics, they were used to it. But that wasn’t really what he wanted.

  He splayed his fingers over his stomach to dull the pain.

  “You okay?” Reagan asked, lifting her pen from where she’d been scribbling in her notepad.

  “Yeah. Guess I didn’t get enough breakfast,” he lied.

  She tapped the pen against her lips, lips she had wrapped around his dick less than twelve hours ago. Could he really sell her out when he felt such a need to protect her? To keep her away from guys like him who had the ability to bust through that flimsy barrier she tried to hide behind?

  Reagan turned around and grabbed the pink box off the seat behind her. “Can I tempt you with a cupcake? Say yes to being my photographer, and I’ll let you have one.”

  Sweet Sal wasn’t going to get him out of this mess. As tempting as the Dulce de leche cake with the drizzle of caramel over the top was, he needed to stew on this decision more before committing one way or another.

  “Maybe later.”

  Her lips screwed into a frown, and she put the box back on the seat behind her. “You’re a hard nut to crack, Anderson.”

  “It’s not my nuts that are hard, Campbell.” He lifted an eyebrow in her direction and smiled as her cheeks went from her usual pale ivory to a slight blush.

  “Is that what it’ll take to get you to agree? You want sex?”

  “Hell, no.” He tried to keep his eyes on the road while simultaneously glancing over to see if she was joking.

  “Wow. Thanks for turning me down with such enthusiasm.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and she faced the window.

  He couldn’t seem to win. “That’s not what I meant.” His fingers reached for her hand but she clasped her arms even tighter.

  Her head swiveled his direction. “Sounded pretty sure about it to me. What exactly did you mean, then?”

  Suddenly feeling a little hot under her glare, he pulled his shirt away from his body to get the air moving. This right here was why he’d never felt the urge to settle down with someone. He couldn’t even hold a conversation, much less build a life around an unpredictable, complicated woman.

  “I meant you don’t need to promise me sex to get me to do something for you. Just let me think about it.”

  “Fine.” She unclasped her arms and typed on her phone.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m letting Teddy know where I am. Sounds like they’re having a great time without me.”

  “Reagan?”

  “Yeah?” She turned toward him, her fingers pausing on the keypad.

  He swallowed hard, not wanting to come off too sappy, but hoping to smooth over their exchange. “I’m having a great time with you.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, every guy’s dream. Let’s see, because of me you’ve been strip searched, bled on by a stray dog, delayed for God only knows how long—”

  “Because of you I’ve had fun.” As the words left his mouth, he realized how much truth there was behind them. He’d experienced enough thrills in his lifetime to make an adrenaline junkie jealous: bungee jumping over a gorge in New Zealand, swimming with sharks in Belize, cliff diving in Acapulco.

  But none of those experiences made him feel like he did around Reagan. Being with her gave him a sense of peace he’d been unable to find as he trekked around the globe. It felt like, geez, at the risk of sounding like a complete cheeseball, being around Reagan made him feel like he’d finally found a place to call home.

  Her phone rang, disrupting the moment, and she glanced at the screen. “It’s Teddy. I’ve got to get this.”

  He put both hands on the wheel and focused on the highway ahead while he listened to her end of the conversation. More last-minute details to work out. Reagan flipped through her notebook and rattled off answers to each one of Teddy’s questions.

  Zach tuned her out and let his mind ponder potential solutions to his dilemma. Shouldn’t be too difficult. He figured he had two choices. Option number one: politely decline the job, drop Reagan off in Miami, and get on with his life. Scazzoli would rat him out and he’d have to work a few more years to save up enough to invest in a place of his own. Option number two: take the job, sell the photos, and get out of town before Senator Campbell wrung his neck.

  As he made a mental tally of pros and cons for each, a third possibility materialized. He could take the pictures, enjoy the wedding, and tell Scazzoli to go fuck himself. That would leave him short of the cash he’d need to start up his shop, but it would also leave him on good terms with the Campbell family. He might even earn brownie p
oints with the senator if he warned him the press was onto him about the affair. Would that wipe the slate clean between them and give him a shot of seeing where things might go with Reagan?

  He cast a side glance at Reagan, who was still on the phone with her brother. Staying in her good graces for a little bit longer made the most sense. That would give him a chance to figure out what the damn twinge was trying to tell him. Spending a few more days with her was the only option that appealed to him. He nodded his head along with the beat from the bass flowing from the tiny speakers. Decision made.

  Next up, should he tell her right away or make her squirm? She tossed a tentative smile his way. Squirming, he decided. There would have to be lots of squirming involved.

  Reagan hung up the phone as they crossed from Georgia into Florida.

  Zach beeped the horn when they passed the “Welcome to Florida” sign.

  “Doesn’t look much different than Illinois.” She looked out the window at the scrubby grass and weeds along the shoulder and the tall maple and oak trees.

  “Wait until we get closer to Miami. You ever been there before?”

  “Once. A quick corporate visit to the hotel. Too bad I don’t have more time to check it out.”

  “Maybe we can come back someday.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending time anywhere with Zach. “Yeah, right. How often do you get back to Chicago?”

  “Two or three times a year. But you could meet me in Miami. Or even Key Largo. I have a show coming up there next month.”

  Reagan blew out a long breath. “Sure. I’ll just hop on a plane and fly on down.” Her tone conveyed so much sarcasm, she almost tasted the bitterness in her mouth. If only she could casually book a last-minute flight and meet a friend, or a friend with benefits, for a long weekend. Even the thought of being airborne sent tsunami waves of nausea rolling through her midsection.

  “It could happen.”

  “You and I don’t have a future, Zach. You’re a traveling photographer. I’m terrified of flying. My dad is going to be launching a national campaign. I’ll probably be standing by his side for the next eight months. That’s where I belong—the dutiful, supportive daughter. That’s who I have to be.”

  “Doesn’t sound like that’s what you want. When do you stop living your life for your dad and start living for yourself?”

  “Some of us have obligations and can’t hop around the world from party to party.”

  “Is that what you think I do?” He chuckled. “I have a lot of fun, but I also work hard at my job.”

  She hated that she sounded like such a bitch. But the thought of him being within a fifty-foot radius of anyone in a bikini turned her insides a horrible shade of green. Jealousy had never been a problem for her before; but then again, she’d never really had anything or anyone to be jealous about.

  “I know you work hard at what you do. You just don’t get it.”

  One of his shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “At least I live for myself. I can be me, not someone my dad defined.”

  “Lucky you. You’ve figured out the key to lifelong happiness.”

  “You should try it sometime.”

  “Try what?” She squinted at him.

  “Being true to yourself. Not living your life measured against your family’s standards.”

  “Yeah, I’ll let you know when that opportunity presents itself.”

  “How about now?”

  She narrowed her eyes behind her large tinted lenses. “What?”

  “Let’s make a deal. I’ll agree to be your photographer if you promise you’ll be yourself until we get wherever it is we’re going. No more thinking about your dad or how things might reflect on his campaign. Whaddaya say?”

  “What’s your point? We’ll be there tonight. That doesn’t give you much time to see me at my worst.”

  “Then you don’t have anything to lose, right?”

  She leaned against the door and assessed Zach, trying to figure out if he had more of an agenda than the obvious. Who cared? She’d agree to almost anything if he’d solve her photographer predicament. “Fine. But you can’t call me Reagan if we stop somewhere. I don’t want to attract any attention and make anyone think I’m related to my dad.”

  “Sure. What do you want me to call you then?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. What do I look like?”

  He shrugged. “You look like a cupcake to me, cupcake. But if I had to pick another name, gosh, I don’t know. What’s your middle name?”

  “Forget it. You’ll laugh.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will. My dad’s a Republican fanatic. It’s bad enough he named me after Reagan and Teddy after Roosevelt. But he stuck us with some pretty crazy middle names, too.”

  “Fess up or I’m pulling the car over.”

  “Celeste.”

  “That’s not so bad, why Celeste?”

  “Because it’s the name of Babar’s wife.” He looked confused. “The elephant in the kids’ books. Didn’t you ever read about Babar?”

  “Sure, but what’s that got to do with being a Republican?”

  Reagan rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Elephant, get it?”

  “Damn, your dad is pretty committed.”

  “You have no idea. Celeste isn’t an option. Pick something else.”

  Zach pointed to a roadside sign as they approached. Welcome to Lake City. “Lake. How about I call you Lake?”

  She let the name roll around in her head for a moment. Didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have a chance to call her anything because they’d be in Miami in about five more hours, and she’d be back to living under her father’s watchful eye as soon as the boat docked on the island. “Sure. Whatever tickles your fancy, big guy.”

  “Speaking of tickling my fancy, if I commit to taking the pictures and we end up spending the weekend together, any chance we can extend our one-night stand a bit?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to get caught sneaking into my bungalow. Dad would make sure you never worked again.”

  “What daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

  “That’s just it. My dad knows everything.” Her lips set in a grimace. If only that weren’t true. Playing along with Zach was one thing, but what if she really became someone else for a while? Even for a day. She’d grown up in the limelight and had never known any different. What would it be like to be Lake?

  “Speaking of your dad…” Zach began.

  Reagan clamped her hand to her forehead, interrupting him. “Shoot, I almost forgot. Teddy said when they went to pick up the tuxes he needed a final alteration on his. Since they didn’t have a chance to pick it up before they caught the charter, can we drive by and get it after we snag my suitcase?”

  “Uh, sure. Just get me directions. I’m yours until Sunday.”

  Hers. As if a guy like Zach would ever belong to her. Dad would make sure her lifelong partner fit into his ideal picture. He’d be clean cut, no goatee or hair long enough to pull off a man bun. If he had any tattoos, they’d be in a place that would never see the light of day. Not like the swirly ink running down Zach’s arm.

  Reagan might not be able to hold her own against the bad boy from her past, but Lake could gel with a guy like Zach. The idea sent a thrill through her. It might be fun being someone else, even if it would only be for a few hours.

  “Care if we fill up on gas and grab a bite at the next exit? I need to let them know I’m not going to be able to make it to that catalog job.”

  “Sure.” It would give her a chance to stretch her legs, and Zach could make his phone calls. The sooner she had him nailed down as the photographer, the better. One more thing to cross off her list.

  She’d also need to give her dad a heads up. He’d have to prepare a non-disclosure for Zach to sign as soon as they got to the island. Reagan knew her father wouldn’t be thrilled about the last-minute change, but at least she’d found someone who woul
dn’t need a background check. Her family knew Zach, and she could vouch for him. Her dad would have to be at least a little pleased about that.

  17

  “We’re getting close. Want to pull up directions to the tux place? I need to know if we should swing by the airport first or go straight there.” Zach’s foot cramped as he switched back and forth from the gas to the brake. They’d been battling spring break traffic on I-95 for the past two hours. He thought they’d be transferring onto the boat Reagan lined up by five, but it was almost six and they still hadn’t picked up her suitcase or the damn tux.

  Reagan looked at her phone. “The airport is much closer, but the tux shop closes in about fifteen minutes. Let me call them and see if they’ll wait for us.” She pressed a button and tapped her fingers on her notebook while she waited for someone to answer.

  She’d been on the phone for most of the drive. He got kind of turned on when she went into planner mode. He hadn’t been able to hear the other side of her conversations, but he could tell when she was about to rip someone a new one. Her voice dropped a notch or two and her spine went ramrod straight.

  She had a different method than her dad. The one time that Zach had incurred his wrath, Senator Campbell turned red in the face and screamed at him, about two inches from his nose. Zach had been able to feel the spittle fly onto his cheeks and smell the older man’s stale, musty breath.

  Reagan’s approach was more subtle. She stated what she wanted and waited for the person on the other end to run through their list of excuses. When they stopped talking, she’d restate what she needed, and ask if there was a problem. Apparently satisfied that her wish had become their command, she’d then hang up with a smile on her face.