Chain’s hand was already on the wheel, steadying it, steadyingme, his fingers brushing over mine in a way that sent heat shooting up my arm. He leaned in close, his body crowding the space between us without pressing, just close enough that I felt the warmth of him everywhere, all at once.
“Easy,” he murmured, and the word sank deep into my bones. “It happens. Everybody stalls their first time.”
His breath touched my cheek—warm, slow, too aware. I forced myself to look at the dashboard instead of him, but that only made me more conscious of how near he was, how his arm was curved around me, how his thigh brushed mine when he shifted.
“I thought I was doing okay,” I whispered.
“You were,” he said, giving me a big smile. “You just got excited.”
Embarrassment flushed hot through me. “I didn’t mean to mess it up.”
“You didn’t mess nothin’ up.” He kept his hand on the wheel a moment longer, fingers loosely covering mine, not pushing, not directing—just a warm, solid presence. “You feel how the truck reacts? That’s all part of learnin’. She’ll tell you what she needs.”
“She?” I asked, a small, breathless laugh escaping.
Chain chuckled, a sound deep enough that it rolled through me. “Yeah. Trucks are ‘she.’ Don’t ask me why. They just are.”
His voice softened even more. “Turn the key again.”
I did. His hand stayed over mine as the engine rumbled back to life, the vibration humming through my palm and straight into the center of my chest.
“Good,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against my knuckles before he pulled his hand away. The touch was nothing—and somehow everything. “Now try again. Slow this time.”
I nodded, breath catching as I pressed the gas with more care. This time the truck rolled forward smoothly, the motion fluid, confident, controlled.
Chain leaned back finally, giving me space, but the echo of his warmth stayed pressed against my skin like a memory I wasn’t ready to let go of.
“There you go,” he said, pride threading through every word. “Knew you could.”
Freedom unfurled inside me—bright, startling, wild.
And in the passenger seat, Chain watched me like he felt it too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LARK CLIMBED OUTof the truck with that bright,stunned smile still soft on her mouth, and hell, nothing in my life had ever hit me the way that look did. Not a fight. Not a crash. Not territory blowin’ wide open under my boots.
She stepped down careful, like the ground wasn’t even yet, like she was tryin’ out the feel of freedom one slow breath at a time.
I stayed in the cab longer than I intended, hands loose on the handle, breath lodged somewhere in my chest like it had forgotten how to move. Watching her through the windshield shouldn’t have done a damn thing to me.
But it did.
She looked free. Not all the way. Not yet. But close enough to spark somethin’ loud and certain inside me, somethin’ warm, somethin’ I wasn’t ready to examine head-on.
I exhaled slow. My pulse didn’t follow.
Teachin’ her had been a simple idea. A good one. A way to give her somethin’ she deserved while gettin’ closer to her. But the second she stalled and I covered her hand with mine on the wheel—yeah. That had been the start of somethin’ else.
Not a mistake.
Just dangerous. For me.
Because the way she’d looked up at me when the engine died—eyes wide, breath caught, cheeks pink with embarrassment and pride—Christ. That look went straight through my ribs and buried itself somewhere I didn’t have shields for.
And when she laughed? Fuck me, I never stood a chance.
I shut the truck door harder than necessary and came around to her. She was standin’ by the bumper, hands tucked close like she wasn’t sure what to do with pride when she felt it. Her eyes were bright—sun behind glass—and it damn near stole the breath I’d just fought for.
