My arms wind around her stomach. ‘Then that one would be my favourite. Keep up, Roberts. You’re supposed to be the smart one.’
I could hold her like this for days. The only other time we’re this close is when she unknowingly cuddles into me in her sleep. That’s my favourite time of day, when I stir for a minute or two and find her snuggled against my chest, all inhibitions gone. Come morning, the spell’s broken and she’s halfway across the bed again.
She tilts her head back against my shoulder. I can practically feel her mind churning. ‘You think I’m really smart, don’t you?’
‘Sure I do, Little Miss Private School who ran a business and articulates herself with meticulous elocution,’ I say, enunciating the crisp consonants like a posho.
She pauses. ‘What would you say if I said I think you’re smarter than me?’
Er, lol. ‘I’d say you’ve got a good sense of humour.’
‘I’m serious! You’re one of the smartest people I know,’ she insists.
‘You can’t know many people then.’
‘Jack!’ She reaches around to smack my shoulder. ‘You study people. You watch other drivers in a way my dad never did. You understand how Micah operates so his mind games can’t affect you.’
‘That’s not smart, that’s being good at my job.’
‘A less smart person wouldn’t know to do that. Was school an issue, is that where underestimating yourself comes from?’
Underestimatingmyself? I’m more aware of my limitations than most. Not that I feel like having a psych exam, but if it’ll make her happy: ‘I hated school. I messed about a lot. All I wanted to do was drive or play football.’
She nods like I’ve confirmed her suspicions. What happened to doing nothing? Why can’t she quietly read her book while I nap?
‘You also help the mechanics,’ she offers, ‘feeding back on?—’
‘That’s practical, not smart.’
‘You’re helping me,’ she says quietly, laying her hands on my arms. I give her a squeeze.
‘None of that’ssmart. I can’t do algebra, I don’t know the historical dates of anything, my?—’
‘Not book smart, maybe, but that’s not the only kind of intelligence. Logical, spatial, interpersonal, emotional. Most intelligence comes from curiosity, not textbooks. And you, Jack Bowden, are curious.’
No one’s ever called me smart before. If she believes that – and I’m not positive she isn’t just being nice – then she sees me as a better man than I do. It makes me feel… big. Like I’m not some dumb adrenaline junkie done good, or deep down I’m not still a latch-key kid with bad grades and distracted parents. To Minnie, I’m more.
She stretches her legs and puts her Kindle down, her head still leaning on my shoulder. I bury my face in her hair; it smells like shampoo and sun. I’m turning into an addict. I get antsy if I go too long without inhaling her.
It’s so peaceful out here in this green oasis. I can’t hear the town or beach nearby, just the pool’s water filter and birds chirping in the olive trees.
‘Tell me a secret,’ she says, voice all dreamy like her eyes have been closed too.
I consider telling her about Ted and immediately push the idea away. I don’t know what’s stopping me. She’s trustworthy, I know she is – she’d be pregnant if she wasn’t. I just need a bit more time. I go for something safer. ‘I failed my driving test first time.’
Her head snaps around to look at me. ‘WHAT?!’
‘It was so stupid.’
‘You’ve been driving since you were eight!’
I shake my head remorsefully. ‘I lived in Italy, but I took my test in England.’
‘Oh no…’
‘I went the wrong way around a roundabout. Who knew that’d be an instant fail?’
‘Um, everyone?’
