Suppressing another laugh, I click on the windshield wipers. Raindrops tap the windshield in a steady rhythm. The moment it starts raining, people act as if they’ve never driven in their lives.
To prove my point, I gesture at the BMW weaving through bumper-to-bumper traffic. “See how crazy people are driving? Withthe storm coming, there’s no way you were catching a ride with some stranger who probably texts while they drive.”
“Teela had four-point-eight stars and great reviews!” she argues. “But canceling last minute will ruin my perfect rider average.”
“Well, I have five stars and zero complaints, so try to relax. I’ll have you home soon. Plus, I’ll give you five stars for being a great passenger.”
“Sucks, because I’ll be leaving you a one-star review.”
Even though things are tense, this feels right. If I closed my eyes, I could probably pretend we’re back in college, when having Shay in my passenger seat was normal. Driving her home from the student-athlete center, picking her and Mallory up for parties, eating dinner outside Slim Jim Batting.
Our first kiss was right here too. I remember it like it was yesterday. The earthy scent of sunscreen and grass from our practice clothes. The want that burned in her eyes as I leaned over the center console. The heavenly taste of strawberry ice cream on her tongue. The feel of her everywhere was electrifying and overwhelming, and the moment she pulled back, I already wanted to kiss her again.
I wonder if she’s thinking about that night like I am.
Lightning cracks in the sky, illuminating the dark gray with dull yellow. A roar of thunder fills the car, drowning the yelp that leaves Shay’s lips.
“Maybe we should pull over and wait out the storm?” she asks, gripping the handle above the door.
I shouldn’t joke, but I want her to stay calm. “I thought you wanted to get home?”
Her lips twitch, not quite into a smile, but close. “Shut up, Cade.”
It’s a straight shot to Clear Lake from here, but she’s right. Plus, more time with Shay is something I’ll never complain about.
Turning on my blinker, I take the next exit and move onto the feeder road at a crawl. It’s deserted, which gives me time to scan the run-down buildings.
When I spot a diner, I head straight for it. The parking lot is flooded and vacant, so I park in front of the entrance and turn to find the jacket and pair of slides I keep in my backseat. Handing them over, I say, “Put these on.”
She gawks at the size-thirteen slides. “We’re going inside?”
“Yup.” When she doesn’t move, I unbuckle, bend down, and slip them onto her bare feet. “In there is food, coffee, and a heater. We’ll leave the second it stops raining, okay?”
Shay bites down on her lip. “Hanging out in public? I don’t think—”
“We’re not hanging out,” I say, even though it stings. “I’m giving you a ride as your client. That’s all, okay? We can be professional, Shay. And Ireallywant a waffle right now.”
Groaning, she finally slips into my jacket and zips it. “Let’s go.”
It takes less than a second for the rain to soak through my T-shirt, but I rush around the car, open her door, and hold out my hand. My whole body sighs in relief when our fingers lace, and I use my free hand to pull the hood over her head as we sprint through the puddles.
Once inside, I peel the soggy jacket off her and hang it on the lopsided coat rack.
Giving Shay a quick once-over, I try not to linger too long. After getting her hair done, it’s no longer wrangled at the base of her neck. Thick, dark curls hang above her shoulders, sprouting around her face like the petals of a flower.
She’s gorgeous, even when damp from rain and irritated with me.
“They better have good waffles,” she mutters, marching toward an empty booth.
Bulbs flicker above, and paired with the cracked red vinyl booths, I feel as if we’ve stepped into a seventies comic book. Photos of vintage cars and newspaper clippings cover every inch of red paint. If I had to guess, these will probably be some of the best waffles ever.
“If they suck, I’ll give you my mom’s secret recipe to make up for it.”
“Deal. I’m gonna run to the restroom. Order for me, please.”
Every step toward the opposite side of the room oozes with a wet squelch. My slides are massive on her, but I’m positive they’re more comfortable than those death traps she calls shoes.
“Hi, love. I’m Darcy, and I’ll be takin’ care of y’all today.” She sets down two glasses of water and straws. A notepad appears out of thin air. “What can I get you and your pretty friend?”
