“Of course he is,” I said. “No responsibilities.”
“Sounds like you yesterday,” Wyatt said.
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “You got jokes now?”
He smiled. “A little.”
Then he did the little movement to make a stick-shift change gears.
“How do you do that?”
“Change gears?”
“Drive,” I watched his hands. “I never learned.”
“Really?” he slowed down. “Wanna try?”
“Yes!” I climbed over the divider thingy and into his lap and he stopped.
“Why have we stopped!” Hartland was so over it.
“Gimme a minute, my Hart. I’m learning me something!”
I looked over my shoulder at Wyatt and he was red.
“I-I thought we’d switch seats or something.”
“Nah,” I placed my hands on the wheel. “This makes more sense to me. Step on it!”
I always wanted to say that.
The main buildingscame into view ahead of us and he talked about how to change gears or whatever. I wasn’t listening. I grew up with chauffeurs and car services so just steering had my blood pumping.
We pulled up near the main office, gravel crunching as Wyatt slowed it down.
And Marlon was already outside.
Standing there talking to employees as they poured in. Arms relaxed, posture straight, eyes locked on us the second we came into view. I felt the earth shake when his eyes landed on the truck.
“AURORA RODRIGUEZ, GET THE FUCK OFF THAT MAN’S LAP NOW!”
A part of me wanted to take it to hell, you know, stick my tongue out, or give him the finger. But that would also land Wyatt in even deeper hot water. So I slid off when the door opened, adjusting my dress like nothing was out of place with Chewy tucked against my hip.
Wyatt cut the engine behind me and Hartland came down from the truck bed, still catching his breath.
“Yes, Marlon?” I blinked innocently.
He gripped my elbow and pulled me off to the side. “What the fuck are you doing in his lap?!”
I looked around and saw everyone looking at us. He saw it too, and he forced his shoulders to relax.
I shrugged. “Learning to drive.”
Before he could reply, I was walking over to the employees. “Good morning, everyone! How are you?”
The atmosphere around us was thick, and bit by bit, as the workers disappeared into the vineyard, we were left alone again. Marlon’s gaze moved between us. Me. Wyatt. Hartland. Chewy. The mud on the tires.
Then back to me.
