“Oh. They’re very smooth.” He turned on the engine and looked over at me. “Hear how it purrs for me?”
“No, not really.” I shook my head, and he put his hand to his ear and growled.
“You don’t hear that?”
“No, and thank God. If I heard that sound coming from your engine, I wouldn’t still be in your car.”
“Touché.” He laughed. “Okay, are you ready to eat?”
“I’ve been ready.”
“How is your knee?” His right hand reached down and touched my leg. My skin tingled as his fingertips gently brushed across my skin and to my kneecap.
“It’s okay. It tingles a bit, but it will be okay.”
“Good.” His fingers moved back up my leg and up my thigh, and my breath caught as they worked their way towards the middle of my leg. “I love your dress, by the way,” he said and moved his fingers back to the steering wheel.
“Thank you,” I said and looked over at him. “You look very dapper in your shirt and tie.”
“I’m glad you appreciate the tie.”
“I always appreciate a tie,” I said, and he looked at me with a smile.
“In all circumstances.”
“Yes,” I said, barely breathing as he gazed at me.
“Good.” He changed the gears suddenly and pulled out into the street.
“Where are we going?” I asked him as we zipped along the road with the other cars.
“I figured I’d take you out for a nice steak dinner,” he said as I adjusted in the seat and fiddled with the radio. “Anything but Top 40, please.”
“What’s wrong with Top 40? I love Top 40.”
“I don’t need to hear Katy Perry or Beyoncé screeching in my ear about how they love being single.”
“They don’t screech. And they aren’t single.” I rolled my eyes at him. I stopped on a country music station and looked at him. “Is this better?”
“Nope. I don’t want to hear about anyone taking their dog and their pickup truck to the lake to get over their ex.”
“That’s horrible.” I laughed. “Not every country music song is about pickup trucks.”
“There’s enough for me to veto this station.”
“What about this one?” I stopped it on a Spanish station and we listened to a man singing his heart out.
“I have no idea what he’s saying.” Aiden frowned. “Something about balancing?”
“No, he’s talking about dancing.” I laughed. “Bailamosis what he’s saying, not balancing.Bailamosdoesn’t even sound like balancing.”
“Hmm, I don’t mind listening to this station if you’re going to continue talking to me in Spanish.”
“Oh?” I asked him curiously. “All I said wasbailamos.”
“And you sounded sexy saying it. I have a thing for Spanish accents.”
“My accent isn’t even that good.”
