We coast to a stop twenty feet from salvation.
Miles groans, and his head flops back against the headrest, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Look at the bright side. At least we won’t have to walk far to get a fuel can.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Miles
“Let’s not ever do that again.” I put the Jeep in gear and pull away from the fuel pump. “It was far too close for comfort.”
Lucy pokes me in the arm, her good mood restored. “What kind of adventure would this be without a little excitement?”
“We have vastly different definitions of excitement.”
After everything I’ve learned today, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.
Hell, even this Route 66 trip is influenced by her upbringing, because instead of visiting all the beautiful places she’s dreamed of since childhood, she’s sticking to a safe, established route and itinerary set by travelers before her.
It’s the exact opposite of adventure.
“You want excitement?” I smirk. “Maybe it’s time to shake things up.”
She twists in her seat, fixing me with narrow-eyed suspicion. “How so?”
Good question.
“Driver picks the music,” I say, stalling for time.Baby steps, Hart. Suggesting anything too wild is a surefire way to get shot down. “So, it stands to reason the driver should also get to choose where we eat lunch.”
She frowns, that adorable wrinkle forming between her brows. “But I already have a place picked out. It’s on the itinerary.”
Naturally.
“Come on, Luce. Live a little.” God knows she deserves it. “There’s something to be said for spontaneity.”
“Fine.” She crosses her arms over her breasts. “You can choose lunch, but it needs to honor the Mother Road experience. No bougie steakhouses. No sushi. No paleo-whatever.”
I arch a brow and turn to look at her. “Paleo-whatever?”
She shrugs. “We are in California.”
This fucking woman.
Smart. Funny. Sexy as hell.
Lucy’s the total package.
And you’ve only got two more days with her.
After that, it’s business as usual.
Five days together. That’s all we get. It’s more than I’ve shared with any other woman, but I’m not convinced it’ll be enough.
I brush the thought aside. Nothing good can come of it.
It’s no coincidence love is a four-letter word.
We roll through town, and she points out a diner, a taqueria, and a wing place. I veto them all because none of them would require stepping outside her comfort zone.
