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Hating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders) 10. JoJo 48%
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10. JoJo

CHAPTER 10

JoJo

" A rchie, can we pull over? I know we are almost home, and I tried. I really did, but I have to pee."

The ride from the hotel to Pine Falls is three hours, and I made it two and a half, but if I wait any longer, there will be a scene, and I could use something to eat. In my haste to escape my shared room, I didn't get breakfast.

"I could use a pit stop, too," Colton chimes in.

Admittedly, he's been different. On day one, he was a Krampus at the bar, stomping out my fun and killing my joy. Our run-in in the lobby was more of the same; he was cold and frigid, but since I barged my way into his room, something has changed, or at least I think it has. I haven't decided whether it's the man or me. I'm getting a glimpse of the man behind the mask, and that might answer for the thawing of my own heart where it relates to him. When he brought up my drawings, something I had forgotten about, I was taken aback, not because I had misplaced the memory but because he remembered it. And then there were all his retellings of events that I wanted to forget, ones where I was utterly mortified where I'd painted him as the villain, the sabotager if you will, but through his lens, he was the knight in shining armor. It would be easy to say, "Well, that's history." You can't change what was, but what if you can change ‘what is’ by redefining what was?

There's safety in stepping back; it's harder to step forward into growth, and it's equally as hard to accept that maybe what you accepted as truth was a falsity you made up to protect yourself. When Colton found me riddled with pain lying on the floor, he brought me medicine, ran me a bath, and then carefully carried me to the tub. During the polar plunge challenge, he jumped in cold water to keep me warm, and then there's now. I asked my brother to pull over, and he echoed my need. There's a chance he needs to use the restroom, maybe he wants to stretch his legs, but another part of me now believes he piggybacked on my request for no other reason than to help me.

Damn it. I definitely need to get out of this truck. The amount of testosterone in this cab has me thinking I painted him as the bad guy because I knew there was no future where he and I could ever be anything. Archer was two seconds away from jumping out of the truck when he heard we shared a room during the snowstorm. The first half hour of our drive was spent explaining that fiasco, and I haven't missed how Archie’s eyes don't go longer than five minutes without flicking to the review mirror and scrutinizing us. What I haven't been able to put my finger on is why he'd believe there was anything more between us than what we've told him, which is the truth: nothing happened. Sure, we left out the part about how he woke up on top of me this morning, but that was indeed an accident. We were not consciously trying to hook up. However, it has cast doubt and made me wonder. Though small, the thought has seeped in, and I haven't been able to dismiss its curiosity. If Archer wasn't my brother, would our past look different?

Before I can give it any more thought, a hand is swatting my thigh. "Come on, Posey. You needed to stop," Colton says as he hops out of the truck and waits for me to exit before closing the door.

"Thanks," I mutter, without making eye contact and hurriedly rush into the fuel station. I needed to pee, but more importantly, I needed space. As soon as I step inside the door of the mom-and-pop fueling station, my eyes scan the perimeter for the restroom. When I don't see a sign, I head toward the cashier. "Ma'am, is there a restroom I could use?" I ask the nice older woman with graying hair.

"Yes," she confirms as she lifts a toilet seat with a key attached to the bottom and slides it across the counter. You've got to be kidding me right now. There is no better way to announce you're using the restroom than carrying a toilet seat. "If you go back outside and walk around the building to the right, you'll see it."

"Thanks," I acquiesce, as I take the toilet seat and start toward the front door. Luckily, when I reach the door, Archie and Kieran are standing at the back of the truck, paying zero attention to the front door, and Colton is nowhere to be seen. I don't care to be teased about a damn toilet seat for the duration of the car ride home.

After relieving myself, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror and grimace. "Girl, you really should have stopped in the hotel bathroom on the way out," I chastise myself as I dampen my fingers and remove the smudge marks from my leftover mascara. I'm not about to try and put on a whole face of makeup, but I forgot how much Colorado dries out your skin. My lips are begging for some lip balm. I reach for my purse, quickly snag my ChapStick, and swipe it over my lips a few times before running my fingers through my long blonde hair to tame the flyaways that not brushing it this morning left. It's then that I hear what sounds like a whimper. Instinctively, I don't move as I wait to see if I'll hear the sound again or if it's all just a figment of my imagination. This is a one-person restroom, and I'm alone. That's when I look up and see an exhaust fan in the wall. Daylight is peeking through, so the sound must have come from outside. I hear it again, but it's louder and more distinct this time, and I know exactly what it is. I zip my bag, grab the toilet seat, and throw open the door only to run straight into a hard chest.

"Woah, take it easy track star," Colton says as he grips my arms to steady me, but this time his touch feels different, this time it warms my insides, and when his dark eyes connect with mine, my chest slightly tightens and for the briefest of moments the way his gaze locks onto mine it feels like holding me feels different for him too. Then his lips quirk up into a crooked smile, and he releases my arms and opens his mouth. "You stealing toilet seats these days? First, you subject yourself to frigid water for money, and now this… Look if you?—"

"Oh, do shut up," I sneer, as I shove the toilet seat into his chest. "It's the key to the bathroom. You can return it when you're done."

"I didn't come to use the restroom. I came for you."

"For me?" I question, disbelieving. I know he doesn't want Archer to believe anything is going on between us anymore than I do. Coming to check on me does not serve that narrative.

"You've been quiet—unusually quiet—and I'm just making sure it's not because of this morning. I know I told you?—"

I hold up my hand. "I heard you loud and clear this morning. I don't need a replay of how I'm not your type and you're not attracted to me yada, yada, yada. You see me..." I wave my hand down my body. "I'm good. You can run along now."

I shoo him with my hand and return to my mission, but before I can take more than a step away, he throws his arm out. "First of all, I never said you weren't my type." My eyes land on his arm that has caught me right below my breasts before they slowly travel up its length to the man it's attached to. The solemnity I see there has my mouth instantly going dry. "I said I wasn't attracted to you like that, and you cut me off. My next words were going to be, you're my best friend's sister. That title makes a difference."

My adrenaline is coursing wildly through my veins. This is yet another questionable encounter and more words from what has always been the wrong man for all intents and purposes. When I was younger, I saw him as my tormentor, and now, I'm not sure what I see, but he just summed it up perfectly. I'm his best friend's sister, so I guess that makes whatever this is moot.

I straighten my spine and push down the mixed emotions and butterflies. "I'm not sure the clarification makes a difference since the title will never change." I bring my hands up and push his arm away. This time he doesn't stop me when I walk away. Good. His mind games are the last thing I need right now. I need to pull my weight with the girls and finish this next book. The next book I put out will determine if I even have it in me to keep pursuing this career. Right now, writing isn't anything but an expensive hobby. One that continuously puts me in the hole.

"You're going the wrong way," he finally says when I round the corner to the back of the gas station.

"Go on with—" My words die the second my eyes land on the source of the cry I heard inside. I slowly approach the wet, shivering white dog covered in dirt. "Shh, it's okay," I coo as I inch closer. "I won't hurt you." The dog doesn't move or shy away as I close in and drop to my knees. I hold out my hand, and it sniffs it before whimpering again and tucking his or her nose back into its curled-up body.

"Josephine, what are you doing?" Colton says, following after me. My head snaps to his, and he sees it. He knows I want this dog. "We are not taking that dog,” he asserts irritatingly.

"Yes, we are. How could you leave this poor little guy?"

"We don't have any room. Where exactly do you think we are going to put him?"

"We can't just leave him. Jeez, you are heartless," I scoff as I pet the poor dog's head.

The next thing I know, Colton is dropping down beside me. He pushes the toilet seat back at me. "Return this, then ask the clerk if they know about the dog." I watch as he puts his hand out for the dog to sniff, and then he scoops him up into his arms.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"I'm taking him to the truck, but you need to check in with the staff. We can send a picture once we get him cleaned up. Maybe he ran out of someone's car when they stopped to get fuel and got lost. There's a chance his family could be looking for him." I stand unmoving, taken aback by his sudden change in tune. When he starts toward the truck and notices, he says, "That's the deal. You can't just take him without trying to find his owner."

"Yeah, okay." I nod and hurry into the store to return the key, and leave my number with the attendant before my brother and Kieran get a chance to protest my decision.

As I walk up to the truck I hear Archie saying, "A dog? JoJo would find a stray to bring home. Remember that time she rescued that cat she thought was stuck in the neighbor's rose bush? We started keeping Benadryl all over the house after she broke out in that rash from the thorns."

Kieran chuckles a little, but not Colton. "Well, there was no rose bush this time. Just this dirty mutt. Can we put him with the horse?"

"We aren't putting him with the horse," I assert, leaving no room for argument. "The dog is already clearly traumatized. It's shivering and submissive. Trailering him with a horse will only cause the poor guy more stress. If we can't take him in the truck, I'll hang back and call an Uber or something."

"Hey, no one said anything about not giving him a ride. Relax, JoJo," Archie says as he opens the tailgate and pulls out a sleeping bag. "I'm just going to put this down on the backseat. Easier to clean this than upholstery. If anyone's getting a cab, it's Callahan. This is going to be a tight fit. The two of you were already practically sitting on each other."

"I think I can survive twenty minutes," Colton grits out breathlessly as he readjusts his hold on the dog. The dog isn't small. He's at least sixty to seventy pounds, and from how he's holding him, I can confirm the dog is indeed a boy. "Just lay down the damn bag so I can set him down."

"Done."

Colton sets the dog down on the bench seat in the back of the cab, and the dog quickly curls himself back into the same ball he was in when we found him behind the gas station. "Archie was right about the space. There is no room for the two of us with the dog," I say.

He leans over my shoulder, his hand lightly gripping my hip, sending a shiver straight down my spine as he examines the space for himself. "You can sit on my lap. It's all back roads on the way home. We'll be fine."

"Wait a minute," Archie protests from behind. We both turn toward him, and he places his hands on his hips, his eyes flicking between ours. "Are you comfortable with that, JoJo?"

Colton rubs his jaw before dropping my brother's gaze. I can tell my brother has him feeling some type of way. The past forty-eight hours between us have been a lot. We're both out of sorts. So, I answer. "It's fine. Like Colton said, it's only twenty minutes." Without another glance or word Colton hops in the truck as though he wants to put this entire altercation behind him and Kieran climbs into the front seat. Archie's eyes slightly narrow and I can't help but think he's going to say more on the issue, and make this awkward situation more uncomfortable but he doesn't. Instead, he walks around the truck. When I turn back to Colton, he holds out his hand for me. "Will you stop?"

"Stop what?" he asks as I ignore his hand and grab the handle above his head to help myself up instead.

"You know exactly what," I say as I sit on his lap a little harder than necessary, making sure he feels all my weight. If he's determined to make me uncomfortable, I can do the same.

He lets out a winded breath from the force that tickles my neck. "I'm not sure what you're playing at Posey, but I can assure you, this…" His hands grip me low on my hips as he leans in, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from my ear. "This will get you nothing but trouble."

My breath hitches in my throat, our position and his words stealing my rational thoughts. Right now his words sound like something I want, but that can't be right. This has to be some kind of fuckery, a payback for helping myself to his room. I reach for the door and pull it closed as his hands fall away.

"I never said I was playing games. That's your job," I mutter over my shoulder before facing forward, my eyes connecting with Archie's as I do.

"Are we ready?" he asks, his eyes locked hard on mine.

My brow furrows slightly, hating the weight of their judgment. I look at the dog beside me and see that he's settled. "Yep, we're ready."

Archie puts the truck in drive, and as we pull out onto the highway, Colton's hand again finds my hip, this time on the right side. The side he knows Archie can't see. "I don't play games. You've never been a game."

I discreetly readjust my position so as not to draw Archie's attention, and when I do, I feel Colton tense beneath me. "Stop it," I hiss under my breath.

"What if I don't want to?"

I subtly shift in his lap, grinding back. "I can make this ride equally as uncomfortable."

"Good." His knees spread, and since my legs are rested atop his, mine do the same, putting a bulge, I remember all too well right where no one has been in far too long. Then he's back in my ear, his fingers digging into my hip bone. "Maybe I want to remember what I forgot."

"What if I want to forget?"

"Then tell me to stop."

I don't tell him to stop. I can't. He feels too good. Too many things in life are mediocre. This might be madness, but there is also reason in madness; it doesn't matter that I haven't found it.

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