When the song ended, she watched him for a reaction.
“That was good, but I think mine is better. This will get you all hot, for sure. It sets your mind wandering. I’ve heard it so many times on the radio in the barn,” Marshall said, speaking into his phone. “Play‘Far From Any Road’ by The Handsome Family.”
As the haunting melody began, Colette was captivated. This was definitely makeouty, and if she had been on a sofa with Marshall, things would get physical. Colette closed her eyes and leaned back on the headrest, letting the visceral reaction run through her. Marshall was playing hardball.
“Pull over,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I said pullover, dammit,” she insisted. With no other cars around them, he parked the truck on the shoulder of the road, biting his lip with a satisfied grin. Colette lifted a leg over the console, sitting right in his lap.
“Don’t let this go to your head,” she said in a breathy voice, reaching her hands behind his head and licking his lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she melted into their kiss, tilting her head and swiping her tongue in his mouth. She needed to get closer, deeper, become part of him, if only for a moment.
Breathing heavily, he pulled away. “This is one hundred percent going to my head,” he said and chuckled. “Because I win.”
Colette groaned as she tilted her head back with a dramatic eye roll. For good measure, she rubbed her core against him. Teasing. Heightening the friction building between them. With a last press of her lips against his, she gave a frustrated growl.
“Yes. You. Win,” she said, punctuating each word with a kiss. “But I’ll get you next time.” Colette reluctantly pulled herself off him, returning to her side of the truck, seatbelt buckled.
“I love winning,” Marshall said with a cocky smirk. “There’s no way you’re gonna get me.”
Her hand reached across to grip his thigh, wandering over his heated leg and sometimes grazing his crotch. It was nice to torture him. For their next song, she picked a catchy, popular tune, also one of her favorites. This one might not make you thirsty, but its synth beat was impossible not to dance to.
“Not part of the competition, but ‘Take On Me’ is a classic. Good luck not moving to this one. It’s so damn catchy.”
The lights of the town appeared ahead of them, and she bobbed to the music in her seat, letting the music flow through her. Once the operatic lyrics began, Colette had a moment. One of her favorite songs was making her sad.
The love song was marked by the temporary nature of the singer’s words.
“I love this song, but it’s kind of sad,” she said, her thoughts spilling out of her mouth.
Marshall was quiet as he listened to the lyrics. “Because he leaves?”
Her eyes cast down, and Colette brought both her hands to rest in her lap. “Yeah,” she said in a small voice.
“Maybe it’s a have-fun-while-I’m-here kind of song,” he suggested with a shrug.
Her shoulders lowered, a small smile on her lips. “You think?”
“Yeah,” Marshall said, taking her hand and putting it back on his leg. Colette marveled as he parallel parked the truck one-handed on Main Street.
She would sure as shit have a panic attack if she attempted to park this huge truck.
Most of the shops were closed, but the local restaurant, The Golden Horseshoe,was bustling. It reminded her of the night that had changed everything. When they had both been brave enough to be honest about their mutual attraction. Holding out his hand as she stepped from the truck rather ungraciously, they ran across the deserted street, into the warmth of the restaurant.
“I reserved their most romantic table,” Marshall said, catching his breath. He waved to the server, who gave a flirty grin upon seeing him.
“Hey, Sadie,” he said, giving the host a courteous smile.
“Hi, Marshall,” she said, shuffling a few laminated menus in her hand. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here.”
Marshall nodded, grasping Colette’s hand. Sadie’s eyes darted to their hands, and Colette’s cheeks heated at the intimate movement. He did it so carelessly, staking his claim and making people at the other tables turn and watch. They seemed to turn back to their dinners quickly enough, but if Colette knew anything about small-town gossip, she knew tongues would be wagging. The ladies at The Buttercup Bakery would have a field day.
Maybe she didn’t mind so much.
If other women knew Marshall was taken, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Especially that Jessica Lansbury.
