I climb in, adjusting my skirt carefully so it doesn’t ride up too far. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of everything. How the pink blouse hugs my chest just a little tighter than I meant, how the black skirt shows off my curves in a way that feels bold, and how my black boots match his a little too perfectly.
Great. Now we look like a fake couple coordinated on purpose.
I glance sideways, half-expecting a comment.
Nothing.
Except for the way his gaze lingers on my legs a second too long before he shuts the door.
He rounds the front of the truck and climbs in, the cab filling again with that maddening scent and his solid, easy presence.
“You look nice,” he says, like it’s just an observation.
But the way his voice dips makes me wonder if he means more.
I clear my throat and look out the window. “You clean up alright yourself.”
He chuckles and shifts into drive. “Look at us, already finishing each other’s compliments.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling before I can stop myself. This is a bad idea. But it’s already happening, so why fight it?
“So,” I ask as the highway opens up in front of us, lights from town fading behind us, “what’s on the agenda tonight?”
“Agenda?” Liam glances over at me, that smirk already forming. “Honey, this isn’t work. This is us getting to know each other.”
My brows knit together. “But wedoknow each other.”
“Do we?”
I nod, confident. “Yeah.”
He leans back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually across the console. “Alright then. What’s my favorite color?”
“Black.”
“Easy one,” he mutters, then glances at me again. “What was my old dog’s name?”
“Yeller. Because you named him after the movie, not realizing how it ended.”
He winces. “Still haven’t forgiven my dad for letting me watch thatafterI named the dog.”
“I wouldn’t have either.”
I mean it, too. His father is an asshole and apparently always has been.
Liam’s eyes narrow playfully. “Alright. Who’d I take to prom?”
“You didn’t. You went alone because you said, quote, ‘no girl at that school could keep up with me.’”
Liam barks a laugh. “Damn. Okay, hotshot. Your turn. Ask me some.”
I tilt my head, smile curling. “What’s my favorite color?”
He squints like he’s trying to cheat off the sky. “Red?”
I shake my head slowly. “Pink.”
He makes a face. “Pink? Really?”
