Jagger makes a face. "Still weird. On a holiday?"
Guiltily, I add, "New year, new deals. Besides, if it pans out, it could be major for the team too. We'd be the first to land them stateside."
Dad grunts. "Guess business doesn't sleep."
Mom looks between us, fretting, "Are you staying at Sebastian and Georgia's?"
Wyatt answers before I can. "No. The company got us rooms at a hotel."
Mom waves us off. "Well, drive safely. And swing by Sebastian and Georgia's on the way home. You can bring back her pie dish."
"Pie dish?" I question.
"Yes. She forgot her favorite one. Remember?" Mom reminds me.
I faintly remember Georgia whining about her dish. I quickly state, "Sure."
Dad's already back to his tablet. "Make it worth it, kids."
My heart pounds so hard, we could have just pulled off a heist. I follow Wyatt outside, and he opens the passenger door to his old truck.
I slip into the seat.
He leans in, close to my face, and murmurs, "Told you they'd buy it, sugar."
I push him away. "Don't get cocky."
He grins, shuts the door, then limps to the driver's side.
His truck still has the same leather seats and the dent in the back fender. As we cruise past familiar roads, butterflies start to beat their wings harder inside me.
I glance out the window. "Why are you driving toward Devil's Wash?"
He quickly glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Aww, you're taking the fun out of it."
We pass the old bar, the grocery store, and the diner we used to sneak off to when no one was paying attention.
Then he veers left at the fork toward Pecan Hollow.
Panic and memories rush me all at once. "I thought we were going to Devil's Wash."
He chuckles. "We gotta eat, sugar."
"Eat? Where? Everything's packed on New Year's Eve," I point out, on a racetrack rushing down memory lane.
His maddening smirk grows. "Don't think I forgot your favorite restaurant."
I stay silent, my heart skipping a beat.
He proudly states, "Magnolia & Oak."
"Wyatt, we'll never get in tonight. Are you nuts?"
He chuckles deep in his throat. "You should know me better than that." He pulls down another street, then parks in front of the restaurant.
The valet greets us by name, but I can't remember his, not because it's been too long but because I can't think. Wyatt's got me spinning with memories I tried to bury.
"Carlos. How's your family?" Wyatt asks, fist-bumping the valet.
