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

by Dylann Crush

  Hope bubbled up in her chest. Results of her search filled the page. She skimmed over the lines of text until she reached an entry for a photography exhibit ending tonight. Giddy with how easy it had been to find him, she pressed on the link and one of his photographs filled the screen of her phone. The one of her on the beach in Miami with the sun setting behind her.

  A sign. It had to be a sign.

  She scrolled down further to find the details of the event. The word “Florida” registered. But what city? She could have the cab drop her off at a car rental agency and hit the road immediately. With her mind already creating a “to do” list in her head, her gaze stumbled over the name of the city: Key West.

  Another Google search and she determined it would take about thirteen hours to make the drive down. Impossible. She wouldn’t get there until the middle of the night. No telling where he’d be. Looking at commercial flights turned up another disappointment. Morning flights had left so the only options wouldn’t be until later this evening with multiple stops.

  Reagan swallowed the hard lump in her throat, forcing the wave of fear down into the pit of her stomach. If she wanted to get to Zach in a reasonable amount of time she had no choice.

  “What terminal, ma’am?” the driver asked.

  She took in a deep breath, trying to focus it on the tip of her nose like Zach taught her to do.

  “Which airline are you on?” the driver prompted again.

  She let out a long exhale and nodded. I can do this, I have to do this.

  Leaning toward the divider, she gripped the back of the front bench seat with a white-knuckled grasp. “I need to go to the terminal for chartered flights.”

  Zach pulled the door closed behind the last customer and took in a deep breath.

  The exhibit organizer click-clacked across the concrete floor, making her way toward him. “That went amazingly well. You’ve got quite a talent, Mr. Anderson.”

  Zach took her hand. “Thanks again for putting this together. I really appreciate it.”

  The sun-kissed blonde held on a little longer than necessary. “It was my pleasure. I’m available, you know.” Her cheeks tinted pink. “I mean, if you want to talk about other marketing options for your work.”

  He gave her a half-hearted smile, hopefully a kind, friendly brush-off. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “We could talk over dinner sometime or maybe a drink,” she pressed.

  “I’ll be pretty tied up with commissions over the next few weeks, but let’s stay in touch.” She had made it pretty obvious over the past few weeks that she’d be up for getting together, and he got the impression she had a little more than business in mind. Ordinarily he’d be all over an offer like that. But since his ill-fated adventure with Reagan, he had lost interest in the fairer sex. With extra time on his hands, he’d thrown himself into amping up his career. His efforts had started to pay off. He still couldn’t fully support himself, but he’d been able to cut back on the commercial jobs and spend more time in the locations that spoke to him on a deeper level.

  “Sounds good. Let me know if you change your mind.” She squeezed his arm before letting go.

  “Hey, do you mind if I stick around a little bit longer? I need to wrap a few more prints.”

  “Sure. Just pull the door shut behind you when you leave. It’ll lock on its own.” She turned toward the outer door. “Oh, and don’t forget your things in the office.”

  “Got it.”

  With a final wave, she squeezed through the front door. He stood alone, surveying the exhibit space. At least three-fourths of his framed prints had sold stickers on them. A few of the canvases had been purchased before the show started, and the rest he’d be taking back to Chicago with him to install in a gallery on Michigan Avenue. Not too bad for a guy who, less than six months ago, had been stalking B-list celebrities to make his rent payment.

  He stretched his arms wide to grab both sides of the canvas of Reagan’s silhouette. Although multiple people had inquired, this piece wasn’t for sale. Zach leaned it against the wall and stepped back to take a long look. He couldn’t have set up a better shot if he’d spent all day planning it. The light, the tilt of her chin, the way the reds and oranges of the setting sun reflected over the water. His heart knocked against the walls of his chest at the exact same time someone knocked on the glass-fronted studio space.

  Zach turned to face the wall of windows but saw no one. The outside lights were off, making it impossible to see out onto the sidewalk in front. The knock sounded again. Damn, someone probably left something behind. He moved to the front door, catching a glimpse of long blonde hair as he approached the window.

  “Forget something?” he asked, pushing the door open.

  Reagan stood in the doorway. Eyes rimmed in pink like she’d been crying, hair spilling over her shoulders in a tangled mess, lips turned down in a frown.

  “Can I come in?” The words left her mouth in a rush, like if she didn’t say them quickly, she’d lose her nerve.

  “Uh, sure.” He held the door wide as she wheeled a suitcase in behind her. “Reagan, what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”

  Her gaze met his. The shine of newly-formed tears threatened to overflow onto her cheeks.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” His hand lifted to her cheek, but before he made contact he dropped it to his side. Anger and the desire to pull her into his arms warred inside his chest. Helpless, he waited for her to speak.

  “I, um, saw you were having a show,” she finally muttered.

  “And you just decided to stop by?” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. His initial surprise at seeing her gave way, letting the hurt and regret ooze through. Why was she here? What game was she playing?

  “Of course not. I had it out with my dad today. He let something slip, and I finally put the pieces together. You didn’t leak that photo.” She acted like she wanted to touch him but let her hands flutter together in a loose clasp instead.

  “So you wouldn’t take my word for it, but now that your dad finally confirmed it, you felt the need to tell me something I already know?”

  She visibly recoiled from the sting of his tone and he almost felt bad. Almost.

  “Zach, you have every right to be angry with me.” Spurned into motion, her hand connected with his arm.

  The heat of her touch unnerved him. He pulled away. “I’m not mad at you, Reagan.” Which was kind of a lie. He’d been more than mad at her three months ago. He’d been furious that she chose to believe her lying, scheming father over him, and sickened that she was so willing to throw away all of the potential they had between them.

  “You seem mad.” She stepped into his space, threatening his personal bubble—the one he’d put in place to keep everyone away.

  “I was. Not anymore.” He targeted another canvas on the wall and pulled it down. “I’ve moved on.” The little white lie tasted bitter on his tongue. She didn’t need to know that he still scrolled through the photos of their cursed road trip at least twice a week or that he hadn’t been able to even look at a fucking cupcake since the day she shredded him in her hotel room.

  “Congratulations on your show. Your work is amazing.”

  He wheeled around and shot her a paralyzing look. “Why are you here?”

  “Zach, I…” She took a step toward him but stopped. Her hands went to her face and her shoulders bobbed up and down as a sob wrenched its way out of her chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

  The shell he’d painted around his heart cracked open, and his anger dissipated. “Come here.” He held his arms open, and she fell into them. Floodgates opened, and her tears soaked the front of his T-shirt. His brain wrestled with his heart. Dammit. He’d finally put the past behind him and started to make a go of things.

  He was over her. He had let her in, she’d mutilated him, and he had tried to piece his fucking heart back together like that vase he’d shattered with a
slap shot back in third grade. It didn’t work then, either.

  His arms folded around her, pulling her closer into him. He silenced the warning bells going off in his head and let himself breathe in her scent. He’d missed this. He’d missed her.

  Knowing he’d probably regret it, he slipped a finger under her chin and nudged her face toward his to drop a kiss onto her forehead.

  Reagan tried to turn away and hide her face in his chest. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”

  “Hey, I needed to wash this shirt anyway. You got it started for me.”

  His attempt at humor worked and she let out a half-laugh.

  “I’m a mess. Don’t look at me, I’m an ugly crier.”

  He lifted the edge of his shirt and wiped her face. “It’s already wet, may as well.”

  “I’m sorry, Zach. I should have believed you. I wanted to believe you. I wanted so badly to believe you.”

  “It’s okay.” He ran his hand over her hair and down her back. The heartache of the past several months melted away. “Believing me would have meant not believing your dad. That was a lot to ask.”

  “But you were right. He lied. When I think about how long I went along with him, how much I gave up to help him out, I just—”

  Zach silenced her with a kiss. His lips touched hers, tentatively at first, not sure if this was a good idea or the first step toward another rejection. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in closer. His hands went to her waist, settling on the hips he’d grasped in his dreams. His body warped into auto-pilot, pinning her against the wall, yanking their shirts up to feel the heat of skin-on-skin. He nudged her legs apart and pressed a thigh between hers. Her tongue swept through this mouth, and she ground her hips against him.

  A high-pitched whine penetrated the fogginess in his brain and he backed away. “Dammit. We’ve got to stop.”

  She gazed up at him through unfocused eyes, a punch-drunk look on her face. “You’re right. This is crazy. I should go.” She fumbled with the hem of her shirt and leaned down to pick up the bag that had fallen from her shoulder. “I don’t know why I thought you’d still be interested—”

  “Reagan?”

  Her head snapped up, hair even more of a mess than it had been a few minutes before. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  She stood. “You don’t?”

  “No. I’ve got something to show you.” He walked toward the office door where a scratching noise had started.

  Reagan cocked her head and waited while he twisted the knob and opened the door. Her look of confusion morphed into a gorgeous smile as the shaggy brown beast loped across the room and took a flying leap toward her, knocking her flat on her ass.

  “Whoa. Come here, girl,” Zach called.

  The dog reluctantly backed away from Reagan and sat at Zach’s feet. Her tail swept the floor, her excitement evident in the way she kept glancing to Reagan and whining, then back up to Zach again.

  He helped Reagan to her feet, keeping hold of her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

  “You got a dog?” she asked.

  “Uh, I got the dog.” He shrugged and lifted his eyebrows.

  Her head whipped back and forth between the dog and him. “Wait, this can’t be. The dog we hit on the road?”

  “Yeah.” Zach knelt to run his hands over the pup’s back. “I stopped in to check on her on my way back to Louisville to return the rental car. I couldn’t leave her there, I just—”

  Reagan squatted down and the dog immediately covered her face in sloppy, wet kisses. “You got a dog?”

  “I call her Freeway.”

  “Freeway. Unbelievable. A dog is a big commitment, Mr. Freelancer. What else have you been up to?” Hands buried in Freeway’s fluffy chocolate fur, Reagan gazed up at him, eyes still glassy from the tears but with a half-smile on her lips.

  “Moved in with my dad, so I’m back in Chicago. I’ve been focusing on calling my own shots and have broken ties with the paparazzi underworld.”

  She arched a brow.

  “Yeah, I figured you’d be happy to hear that.” As they both reached to ruffle Freeway’s ears, their hands touched. “How about you? Big night for your dad.”

  Reagan shook her head. “I walked out on him on the biggest night of his life. And you know what?”

  Zach cocked his head, and she continued.

  “It’s funny, I don’t even feel bad. I don’t know what’s in store for me.” She paused, focusing her gaze on his bottom lip. “But I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that, cupcake?”

  “I want you to kiss me right now.”

  A warm, peacefulness settled around his heart. “And after that?”

  She moved her hands from Freeway’s fur and wrapped them around Zach’s neck, pulling his mouth toward hers. “Who says we ever have to stop?”

  Epilogue

  Reagan snuggled into Zach’s side on the big sectional couch they’d purchased a few weeks before. Freeway hopped onto the cushion and burrowed into her side. Home sweet home. A tidal wave of love washed over her for the man next to her and the furry baby they shared. The brownstone they’d rented together hadn’t quite come together yet, but they were working on it. Her gaze swept the cozy living room, from the canvas of her silhouette hanging over the fireplace to the more candid pictures of the three of them covering the walls.

  An early November snowstorm had flurries blowing past the windows as the newscaster on TV declared the final returns had come in for the election. Looked like her dad would be moving out to DC in January to start his first term as Vice President.

  Zach kissed the top of her head. “You sure you don’t want to run downtown and join the party?” he asked. “Your dad’s going to need people he trusts on his team if he’s going to take Washington by storm.”

  The weight of his arm across her shoulder grounded her. She laughed. “If I’d wanted to jump back on the Campbell bandwagon, I would have done it months ago. Sorry, babe, you’re stuck with me.”

  Zach angled his body to face her on the couch. “You sure about that? I thought maybe if he won the election, you’d change your mind. I know the two of you have started talking again.”

  “We started talking because he admitted he was wrong and said he was sorry. Even though I rarely agree with him, he’s still my dad, and I want to have some sort of relationship with my family.”

  She placed her palms on his cheeks and sandwiched his face between them. “How many times have we talked about this? I’m going to tell you for the last time. There’s no place I’d rather be.” Her lips touched his. “No one I’d rather be with.”

  “Well, in that case…” He rose from the couch and padded on bare feet to the kitchen. “I got us something to celebrate.”

  Freeway lifted her head at the change in weight distribution on the couch. Reagan laid a comforting hand on her head and the dog yawned and settled back down.

  “What are we celebrating?” She twisted around to try to see what he was doing in the kitchen.

  He came back carrying a plate with two cupcakes. “The fact you’re staying in Chicago.” The plate clinked when he set it down on the coffee table.

  “Wow, you really did doubt me.”

  He shrugged and sat down next to her. “I didn’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back.”

  “You stupid, stupid man. You’ve never held me back. You’re the one who gave me wings.” She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and wrapping her legs around him.

  His fingers edged under the waistband of her yoga pants and danced over the tattoo on her hip. She’d made use of the gift certificate she’d won and inked a tiny heart with wings right below her waist. A slow burn started where his fingers rested, and she ran her tongue over the shell of his ear. “Should we take our celebration to the bedroom?”

  “Don’t you want your cupcake?” he asked, shifting his hips underneath her.
/>   She pulled back. “Have I ever turned down Sweet Sal’s? Which one should we share first?”

  He leaned forward, reaching around her back and held out the red velvet. “You take the first bite.”

  “Gladly.” She sank her teeth into the mound of cream cheese frosting, taking a good chunk of the deep red cake with it. “What’s this?” she asked with a mouth full of cake, dropping a few crumbs onto his shirt. Her lips grazed something hard, and she examined the remaining cupcake to see what kind of foreign object had fallen into the batter. Her fingernail scraped something metal. She pulled a silver chain out of the cupcake. “Zach? Did you do this?”

  His smile told her yes. She continued to work the necklace out of the cupcake until she held a heart locket in her hand. “Wait a minute. This isn’t the one we got from that woman in the RV in Tennessee, is it?”

  “Open it.”

  She glanced back and forth between him and the heart, using the edge of her nail to ease the heart open. Inside was a tiny roll of paper.

  Carefully, she unrolled it.

  Will you marry me?

  “Well?” Zach asked, his arms clasped around her back. “Whaddaya say, cupcake?”

  “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

  “Yes!” he responded, laughing. “But aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be answering me?” He nodded toward the paper in her hand.

  Her head bobbed up and down.

  “So that’s a ‘Yes, I’m supposed to be answering you’ or ‘Yes, let’s tie the knot?’” he asked.

  “It’s a yes and a yes and a yes to whatever you ask me. Oh my gosh, Zach. I can’t believe you!”

  She smashed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing her legs to trap his midsection between her thighs. His tongue swept the inside of her mouth and the sugary cream cheese frosting, exquisite red velvet cake, and the sweet taste of Zach filled her senses.