Megs started to sweat as she took off her backpack and dropped into his lap. His breath whispered against her neck, which was not helping her current hot flash. He reached around and took her pack, setting it next to his on the floor at their feet. Now she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
The tractor groaned beneath them, and as they lurched forward, she grabbed onto the armrests only to find them warm and softer than she imagined. She was holding onto Gideon’s forearms.
Megs sucked a breath and let go, then jostled and grabbed back on so she wouldn’t tip.
“Here!” Gideon shouted. He pulled her hands down to hold onto the edges of the seat, then wrapped his arms around her waist.
Megs immediately felt grounded. Solid. She drew a deep breath and tried to force herself to relax.She was sitting on Gideon’s lap.His arms were around her, and her back was pressed up against his chest.
And that chest was inviting. He was warm and strong. Solid. Was she too heavy? She pushed up on the floor with her feet to try and take some of the pressure off his thighs.
“Stop. You’re not going to hurt me.” Gideon called, his lips inches from her left ear.
Megs nodded and sank back into him. The tractor cab smelled of hay and turned earth, but she still caught a whiff of whatever it was that Gideon wore. Lotion? Cologne? She still couldn’tdecide, but it was subtle and almost smoky. Woodsy and sweet. Like the cigars Frank smoked sometimes.
She felt lightheaded. Drunk on this feeling of him wrapped around her from shoulders to calves. It took everything in her power not to lean into him and drag her hands over his thighs. Megs clenched her jaw and forced herself to look at the dashboard. Out the window. Anything that distracted her from her insides liquifying with each breath Gideon took.
Their driver wore muffs over his ears, and yet still insisted on turning and trying to talk to them. Megs felt responsible for carrying on this one-sided conversation since Gideon’s face was smushed up against her back.
The man’s bushy gray mustache bounced, and his arms gesticulated as they lumbered down the road toward town. Megs caught the words “chickens” and “fox” at one point, and her mind ran wild with how they could be related to each other. Every possibility didn’t end well for the chickens. She focused so hard on reading his lips that she could almost convince herself that that wasn’t Gideon’s breath against her neck.
Then Gideon shifted his hands, and his arms brushed against her ribs. Megs’ heart lurched in her chest, and she prayed Gideon couldn’t feel it. He turned his head and brushed against her hair, then moved his leg and she slipped a bit deeper into his lap.
Gooseflesh prickled her skin.This was torture.She knew what those hands felt like on her body as more than a seatbelt, and all she’d have to do was lean back and—
Megs clung to the seat for dear life and focused wholly on the farmer. His eyebrows looked like they hadn’t been plucked in a decade. His jowls jumped in perfect unison with the engine rumble. She still couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, but she gritted her teeth and concentrated on the stitching of his overalls.
It wasn’t until they stopped and the tractor sat idling that the man turned and yelled, “Convenient that they lay eggs and poop out of the same hole! Gotta love the cloaca!”
Megs plastered a grin on her face and nodded emphatically, pretending she’d been thrilled by his speech over the past ten minutes and not imagining stripping Gideon’s shirt off and running her fingers over every contour of the chest pressing against her back.
"Learn something new every day," Megs yelled back as she launched herself out of Gideon’s lap so fast, she almost hit her head on the ceiling of the cab. She reached for her bag, but Gideon stopped her.
“I’ve got it!”
Megs nodded and made her way down to the ground. Gideon followed, holding both their bags. He shook the farmer’s hand as Megs worked to get her breathing under control. The man nodded, then shut the door to the cab as Gideon dropped off the steps and stood next to her.
Megs ran her hands through her hair, sweating more now than she had on their hike. Gideon started toward the gas station as the tractor continued on its way. Megs’ ears were ringing, so it took her a moment to realize Gideon was laughing next to her.
“What?”
He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “That was . . . something else.”
Something else. That was one way to describe it. “Youdidn’t have to pretend to listen to that guy’s chicken stories.” Megs set her pack on the concrete and stretched out her arms to avoid undressing Gideon with her eyes. His shirt was slightly askew, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He looked like he was about to chop wood or offer to fix someone’s radiator.
Gideon exhaled. “Was that what he was talking about? I could see his mouth moving over your shoulder.”
Megs’ looked anywhere but directly at him. “Do you think there could’ve been a normal vehicle coming down that road? Did we have to choose the tractor?”
Gideon held up his hands. “All I’m saying is that we’re here in town and we didn’t have to walk two miles.”
“Great point.” Every moment over the past hour swirled through her head. What had he been saying on the road? He was half happy? Suddenly, she was dying to know what would fill that void. Megs looped her thumbs in her backpack straps. “Thank you, Gideon.” She caught herself, and her cheeks heated. “I mean, thank you, Professor Adams. I’m sorry, I—”
“Gideon’s fine, Megs.”
Megs nodded and pursed her lips. She looked down at her watch just as a silver Corolla pulled into the station and stopped by the pump.Almost one o’clock.“Is it my turn?”
“Your turn for what?”
