The door opens fully. Ivy emerges in fitted jeans that hug her curves, a soft cream sweater that makes her skin glow, and ankle boots. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the elegant line of her neck. She's applied minimal makeup, just enough to highlight those incredible eyes.
She's devastating.
"Ready?" she asks, grabbing a small cross-body bag.
I push off the wall, offering my hand.
"Let's go."
She stares at my outstretched palm for a heartbeat before sliding her smaller hand into mine. The contact sends electricity up my arm, settling somewhere in the vicinity of my chest.
We walk to my car in comfortable silence. The city is just beginning to wake up: delivery trucks rumbling past, a few earlyjoggers. I unlock the passenger door of my truck, holding it open.
"Such a gentleman," Ivy murmurs, but there's warmth in her teasing.
"Only for you."
The truth of that statement hits me as I round the car. I'm not this person, the one who plans surprise day trips and holds doors and stays up half the night making sure every detail is perfect. But with Ivy, I want to be.
I slide into the driver's seat, starting the engine. The dashboard clock reads 6:47 a.m.
"So," Ivy says as I pull onto the road, heading north. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"Eventually."
"Declan."
I glance over, grinning at her exasperated expression.
"You really don't like surprises, do you?"
"I like being prepared."
"What would you need to prepare for? I'm not taking you anywhere dangerous."
"I don't know what I need to prepare for because you won't tell me where we're going." She crosses her arms, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "This is circular logic."
"Welcome to a day in my brain."
She laughs, the sound filling the car and doing dangerous things to my heart rate. I merge onto the highway, leaving the city skyline shrinking in the rear-view mirror.
"Can I at least know how long we'll be driving?"
"About two hours."
Her eyes widen. "Two hours? Declan, that's…"
"Worth it." I reach over, squeezing her hand where it rests on her thigh. "I promise, Ivy. It's worth it."
She doesn't pull away. Instead, her fingers curl around mine and we drive like that with hands linked. The city falls away behind us, morning light spilling across the landscape.
The conversation flows easily. She tells me about her latest research findings, eyes lighting up as she describes neural pathways and impact vectors. I don't understand half of it, but I love watching her talk about what she's passionate about. The way her hands move when she's explaining something complex. The slight furrow between her brows when she's thinking.
"You're staring," she says eventually, catching me watching her instead of the road.
"I'm multitasking."
"That's not what multitasking means."
