Tally leaned forward between the two front seats. “We’re not coming back until late Sunday night. We all know you like to go to bed at seven p.m. with the rest of the retirement home crowd.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked and he held his hand up like he didn’t want to hear any more from her. Then to me, he said, “Drive me around to my truck. I have a bag in there. I always take extra clothes since I work out at the campus gym. And I can buy a toothbrush in the hotel lobby. Ford got you a hotel room, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Now I was the one cocking a brow. “If you come, it’s as a road-tripper. Not an uncle. Got it?”
He pursed his lips. “Whatever. I can be fun and you know it.”
It was true. Ash was hilarious and usually bubbly. Though I wasn’t sure what this was going to be like with him and Tally in the same car. The thought of having him here did make me feel more settled. I’d never driven this far without an older relative. Not that I thought the three of us couldn’t handle it. We totally could. But still.
He tossed his chin up at Brooklyn, trying to assert his seniority. “I’m riding shotgun.”
“Nope. I’m already set up. Sorry.” But she didn’t sound sorry.
He looked back at me, annoyed. “Your friends don’t take me seriously.”
I gave him a faux nervous grin. “I think it might have something to do with the fact that they’ve smelled your farts.”
“Facts,” Brooklyn said, straight-faced.
“And your morning breath,” Tally added. “And I’ve seen you wearing an entire bucket of bull testicles. There’s no coming back from that.” Blue had done that. The same afternoon as theJane Eyreincident. It had not been one of Ashton’s better days.
“She’s got a point,” I said, pretending not to notice that his cheeks were pink. And it had nothing to do with me and Brooklyn. I gave him a backward thumbs up. “Back seat for you.”
“Fine.”
As he was walking around the front of the car, Tally leaned forward, forehead in a tight crunch. “Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to fit back here with those shoulders? Can’t we strap him to the top of the car? Let him ride in the front, Brooklyn.”
“No.” She huffed. “I’m comfy.”
Ashton opened Tally’s door and shooed her to the middle. She groaned but slid over. With our case of water bottles in the far seat, and all her crap on top, they were jammed up right next to each other.
Ashton caught my eye, frowning.
I wiggled my eyebrows and mouthed,You’re welcome.
He didn’t acknowledge that. Just glanced out the window.
Once we grabbed his stuff, we were finally on our way. Brooklyn cranked up the playlist and we sang at the top of our lungs. I didn’t know how to road trip any other way. This is how Momma and I did it.
It only took a half hour for Ashton to start complaining. “Why are all these songs by Double Dub?” That’s what we called Whiskey and Women. What everyone called them. “Don’t you have any other music?”
Uncle Ashton was very vocal about his dislike of Ford’s songs. Which was silly. Because the rest of the world had zero problems with them. But Ash had a grudge against Ford for all the attention he’d brought on our family. And all the tears Granny had cried over his “unchristian-like” ways. She was sure he was going to hell. I didn’t know about that. He was too good of a guy to spend eternity with Satan and his minions. I could see why Ashton was bugged, but there was no denying their music was really good.
“How about some Benson Boone or if it has to be country, Rascal Flatts?” he hollered over the noise.
Brooklyn cranked the music up even more. And Tally sang twice as loud, adding in an aggressive air guitar. Ashton stared at her, annoyed, for a full song before realizing she didn’t care. Finally he popped in his AirPods and tapped on his phone.
Tally peered over his shoulder to see what he was listening to. Then her eyes bugged and she gripped his arm, which made him flinch. She gawked at him like he had three heads. “You like Jane Austen?” Of course he was listening to an audiobook. Ash picked books over music every single time. But Jane Austen?
He popped one earpiece out and scowled, clearly expecting whatever she said to be derogatory. “What?”
I waved for Brooklyn to turn the music down. I wanted to hear this.
“I said,” Tally glowed, like suddenly he was someone completely different and not the stiff English professor she teased all the time. “You like Jane Austen?” The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach. But the way to Tally’s was books.
I forced my eyes on the road so we didn’t die.
“I have to teachPride and Prejudicenext semester. I’ve never taught it before,” he said flatly.
