“You sure I can trust you to drive me home?” she asks as we reach my truck.
She’s teasing, but there’s uncertainty in her eyes. The thought of making her nervous sends a sharp pain through my chest. We just met, and she shouldn’t trust me. But I want her to.
“Have I been anything short of a gentleman tonight?” I ask.
I open her door and help her step up, then rest my arm on the open door as I wait for her to respond. She looks up after fastening her seatbelt and seems surprised that I’m still standing here.
“Well?” I prompt.
Her large brown eyes look me over and I find myself shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. I adjust my stance so I’m not caging her in. Placing one foot on the running board, I rest my arm across my knee.
“What happened to your hand?” she asks softly.
I look down at it. It’s a little bruised, but not too bad. I’m actually surprised that she noticed unless she saw the bandage in the parking lot. But I’m more surprised she hasn’t already heard all about my fight with Grayson. Everyone else in the world seemed to know before I even made it to the doctor to have my hand looked at.
“It’s nothing. And don’t think I didn’t notice the subject change. You comfortable giving me your address so I can take you home now?”
She offers me a polite nod, and I’m sure it’s all I’m going to get, so I close her door and make my way over to the driver’s side. I recognize the street name she gives me, so I pull out of the parking lot.
“You live down the street from Wyatt and Rayna?”
“Yeah. Next door actually, so no funny business.”
I snort out a laugh. I’ve been trying to figure her out all evening. She was the picture of fun, buying drinks and dancing to almost every song. I don’t know how to explain it, but that wasn’t what drew me to her. It also wasn’t the way she yelled at me for hitting her car. It was the hint of something beneath the surface. Something I get the feeling not everyone gets to see.
“No funny business,” I agree. “I didn’t realize you lived next to Wyatt. But I still would have volunteered to drive you.”
“Oh? Why?”
Once again, she’s analyzing me. I can feel it. The alcohol hasn’t knocked down all her walls, not that I would take advantage if it had. I decide to use a play from her book and change the subject. She doesn’t need to know that I just wanted a few minutes alone with her.
“Grayson and I got into it this morning. We don’t really get along,” I say, breaking the silence as I head down the dark country road. “You asked about my hand…”
Now it’s her turn to laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard you two don’t get along.”
“You heard that, but not about our screaming match that ended in me nearly breaking my hand on his jaw?”
Her eyes are wide as she looks from my eyes to my hand resting on the center console. She’s so goddamn pretty I wish I could stare at her instead of at the road. It’s dark but I can still make out the shape of her eyes, her perfect nose, and the lips I’ve been doing my damnedest not to kiss all night.
Returning my attention to the road, I begin questioning my sanity. I volunteered to go out of my way to take her home, but of course, it isn’t going the way I hoped. I’ve done something to fuck things up, and I have no idea what. I let out a startled gasp when I feel her fingers brush against my hand.
“Sorry,” she says quickly.
“No need to apologize, sweetheart. I just wasn’t expecting your touch.”
She returns her fingers to the back of my hand, gently stroking and inspecting the best she can in the dark. It’s a simple touch. It isn’t suggestive, or sexual in any way. It’s just my hand. But the unhealthy things my heart is doing in my chest would suggest otherwise. I let out a ragged breath as I allow her touch to soothe me.
“Did I upset you?” she asks after another long moment. “You almost seemed on edge when you suggested it was time to go.”
“What?” I glance at her before looking back at the road. “No. It’s just been a long, shitty day and I wanted to get you home before I gave in to my thoughts.”
“What thoughts?”
I don’t answer right away. We’re on her street, and I’d rather look at her when I answer that question. Plus, I need a minute to decide just how much I want to say. I pull into her driveway, put my truck in park, and then turn to face her.
“That getting lost in you is exactly what I need after a long, shitty day.”
She opens her mouth to speak then closes it without a word. Her hand is resting on mine, and I find myself terrified she’ll move it. Now that I’ve experienced her touch, I need it. It’s not the same as when we were dancing. That was fun. Casual. The way she carefully caressed my hand is personal. And at complete odds with our first interaction.
