With a huff, I squeezed myself over my overstuffed organization caddy and into the passenger seat.
He turned off the car, grabbed something from the floorboard, then did something outside, behind the tires.
Phoenix slid into the driver’s seat beside me, taking up every inch of space like he was built for the truck and the truck for him. The moment I sat down, I was engulfed by the scent of fresh rain and something unmistakablyhim—clean, masculine, and impossible to ignore.He looked massive behind the wheel—shoulders brushing the seat back, forearms flexing as he gripped the steering wheel.
I felt small next to him. Not weak—just… protected.
He started the engine, threw the truck into reverse with effortless confidence, and within seconds, we were gliding back onto the road.
“What did you put under the tires?”
“Your car mat.”
“Mywhat?”
“I’ll get you another.”
“Those were special-made.”
“I don’t doubt that. Where’re we going?” He glanced at the GPS.
“Wearen’t going anywhere. You drive yourself home, and then I need to get somewhere. Fast.”
“You’re not going to make it.”
“How do you know I’m not going to make it?”
“Forty-five minutes. It’s been forty since you hung up with whoever called you.”
It was the first time I’d considered that Phoenix had heard my end of the conversation with Andrew. I looked at the clock. He was right. Andrew would leave for his poker night in five minutes.
I was in a pickle.
Following the Italian female voice directing him through the speakers, Phoenix hung a left.
We drove for a moment in silence, then?—
“What exactly did you hear while I was on the phone?” I asked.
“We’re here.”
He turned next to a red-brick mailbox that matched a small, brick home a few yards from the road. Manicuredshrubbery hugged the house, matching the green shutters and garage door. It was the quintessential “newlywed’s beginner house,” if not for the tie-dye curtains that were pulled tightly against the front window, and the two mismatched folding chairs encircled by empty beer bottles on the front porch. A bachelor pad, by all counts. No cars were parked outside and the house was dark except for a dim light outlining the curtains. Phoenix parked in front of the garage.
I set my purse in the back seat. “Stay here, I’ll be right?—”
The driver’s side door slammed shut.
“You’ve got to be kidding…” I muttered as I jumped out, my heels stabbing into the wet earth. “Hey.”I tip-toe-jogged around the hood. “I said,hey.”
Ignoring me, Phoenix walked up the porch steps.
“Listen, you don’t even know whose house this is, or why we’re here. Go sit in the car and wait. I’ll be five minutes.” Gripping the handrail, I jumped up the steps and fisted the back of his wet coat. “Phoenix.Go backto the car.”
He finally graced me with his attention and turned, blocking my access to the front door.
“No.”
“No?”
