Something stirs inside me, something I buried years ago.
I swallow the feeling down like a bolt that’s too big for the thread and hope it doesn’t strip something critical on the way.
“You hungry?” I ask abruptly.
She blinks. “What?”
“It’s past nine. You should eat. Spur and Spoon stays open late.”
She beams. “You’re asking me to dinner?”
“No.” Absolutely not. That would be…dangerous. “It’s food,” I clarify. “Fuel. You need fuel.”
She bites back a smile. “Okay. Fuel.”
But the way she says it makes it sound like more. Like sheknowswhat she’s doing to me.
I grab my truck keys. “We’ll come back, get a baseline diagnostic. Then I’ll make a plan.”
Her smile softens. “A comeback plan.”
“Yeah.” I open the passenger door for her before I think about it. “That.”
She climbs in, her hand brushing mine as she settles.Electricity.Again.
This is just a ride to the diner. Just a meal. Just helping a girl fix her grandpa’s car.
Nothing else.
Right.
I start the engine and grip the wheel like it’s the only thing tethering me to common sense. Because one thing has become very clear…
Hope smells like her.
And I’m already inhaling too fucking deep.
Chapter 4
Sally
Nolan takes corners like a rally driver, which is impressive, given that the thing is basically a square rolling on four squeaky bolts.
I grip the handle above the window because my survival instincts are alive and well, thank you.
He notices. “Relax. I drive better than you think.”
“I haven’t seen you drive at all,” I shoot back.
“Exactly.”
I stare at his profile, his square jaw, stubble, ridiculously long lashes that would make a mascara ad weep, and decide this man is allergic to unnecessary words. Or smile lines.
The truck bumps into the Spur and Spoon parking lot. The neon sign in the window flickers like it’s about to call it quits, but the smell offried heavenwafts through the cool night air, and my stomach wakes up screamingfeed me, or I’ll eat you from the inside.
I exhale. “I love this place. Smells like angels took up grilling.”
He nods. “Burgers are good.”
