“Nothing,” she says.
My grin widens. The pinch of her narrowed eyes, her furrowed brow, and her terse pink lips are a recipe of adorableness. Plus, the fact that she hasn’t threatened to unalive me yet is significant progress.
I start the engine and signal our way out of the museum parking lot. Kate stares fixedly out the windshield, more than reluctant to break the silence.
I bite back another laugh.
Kate hates silence almost more than being alone. I make a bet with myself that she cracks within ten minutes.
She only makes it to eight.
“Are we—” she starts, but I raise a hand to cut her off.
“I’m gonna stop you there, Katie Cat. If you start this early with the whole ‘Are we there yet,’ I might have to ditch you on the side of the road.”
Her lips twitch in my peripheral vision, and a familiar heat pools proudly in my stomach at cracking her mask. But irritation quickly rides the coattails of my pride. Because Kate has made it clear that she doesn’t wantme.
She’d rather date a walking coma like Tanner over me.
So what am I even doing?
I grip the wheel, channeling my focus on the southern-bound interstate.
Tom’s cabin is five hours away, and I cringe at how long this travel day is going to be. But we’ve gotta get him to sign off for Amantha to use his mural in the exhibition.
Kate continues, still trying not to smile. “As I wassaying, are we gonna stop for lunch?”
I laugh. “Kate, it’s barely eight a.m.”
“I need something to look forward to if I’m gonna be trapped with you.” Her smirk is almost playful—an expression I rarely get to see these days. She neatly folds her legs beneath her and rests against the headrest. Kate has on those dangerous black leggings again with striped crew socks pulled up over the cuffs.
Sexy, somewhat sporty, and entirely too tempting.
The conversation fades. Snow borders the highway, but the roads are clear. Hopefully it will stay this way, because navigating Chicago traffic on slick roads sucks.
“Are we really gonna just sit here?” Kate says.
“What, did you wanna chit-chat?” I waggle my eyebrows. “Reminisce?”
I get a flat-handed palm for that one, but a tiny laugh slips out of her.
“No,” she says, “but I’m gonna go crazy just sitting here. Don’t you have music or something?”
Before I can stop her, Kate pushes a button on the control panel ofmy car. “Past the Lights” by Accidentally On Purpose floods the speakers. It’s on myTuck & Brando 4-Evaplaylist and is the same song I performed for the elderly women on our first date.
Kate’s hand freezes. A half second later, she snaps out of it, shutting off the song like the knob burned her. Flame crawls across her cheeks as she again pins her beautiful eyes on the road.
The silence is unnerving. A million words hang between us, yet there’s nothing to say.
I grimly reach out, turning back on the music and flipping to another song on the playlist. Tuck’s favorite hiking song comes on, and it’s pretty mellow. Something about sunrises and treetops. The music pulses in time with Kate’s chest.
“You good?” I ask quietly.
“I’m fine,” she says, snatching her purse to her lap and rifling through it. She yanks out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. But thanks to her sloppy movement, the mysterious paperback book falls onto the center console.
My eyes widen at the cover as I pick it up. “The Blacksmith and The Orchardess?”
The heat in Kate’s face increases tenfold. She grabs for it and misses.
