We watched the carousel start spinning, neither of us willing to speak. Luckily, the airport was noisy enough to drown out the awkward silence.
My suitcase, with a price that would make Colton gag, came around. I stepped forward to take it down, but Colton puthis hand out to stop me.
“What kind of man would I be if I let you lift that heavy bag?” He said with a tiny wink.
I could think of a few of my snotty city friends who would throw a feministic fit over that line, but I couldn’t help but be grateful for the gentlemanly gesture. “Thank you,” I said as he easily lifted it off the track.
I reached for it again, but he lifted the handle himself, his fingers brushing mine as he swept the rolling suitcase away. “It’s kind of heavy,” I apologized.
He shrugged, and for half a second, I thought I smelled cologne gliding through the air. “I’m tough,” he assured me. “Come on, Mamma’s worried you’ve been kidnapped by a different set of hicks.”
I let out a soft chuckle.
My rehearsed scripts to keep Colton Nash at a distance were already starting to feel like a very thin shield.
Chapter Sixteen
The first ten minutes of the drive were completely silent.
Almost–if it weren’t for the roar of the ancient red truck and Colton shifting the rusty gearsevery once in a while.
He had led me to a different truck than the one I rode in Utah, with a NASH1 license plate, carefully put my bag in the backseat, and opened the passenger door for me.
The truck was just what I had expected from someone who lived on a ranch. It was dusty, had worn saddle blanket seat covers, and smelled like a dying air freshener. Two boxes of peppermint gum sat on the middle console, along with scattered wrappers.
Colton got behind the wheel, not meeting my gaze, and merged onto the interstate. The urban sprawl of the beautiful Oklahoma City began fading into rolling hills of rust-colored earth. After a few quiet minutes, Colton took off his surprisingly clean hat and set it on the dashboard.
“That’s not botherin’ you, is it?” He asked suddenly, shooting me a quick look.
I was gripping my briefcase with white-knuckled hands. “Oh, no, not at all.”
He leaned back, popping a piece of his gum in his mouth. “Do you want some?” He asked, offering the box.
I looked at it. “I’m fine, thank you.” I couldn’t help butstare at his sharp jaw as he chewed his gum. He was clean-shaven, his skin begging me to feel the softness.
He set it back down, and it felt like you could pop the awkwardness with a pin. “So…ya know, I don’t actually know that much about you. Where are you from?”
I stared at the horizon; the intense flatness was surprising after the endless Utah mountains. “I work in Chicago, have been there for a long time, but I am originally from Texas.” I stole a glance in his direction and, to my surprise, he was looking right back at me, and smiling.
“That’s good news,” he said with a chuckle.
“It is?”
He popped his gum. “That means Jimmy owes me five bucks.”
“Why’s that?”
“He bet that you were originally from the city, but I knew there was country deep in your roots.”
My heart fluttered, and I had to fake a laugh to loosen my tight lungs. “You know me so well, don’t you?”
His eyebrowsraisedin concern. “I hope we didn’t offend you.”
“No, of course not, I live in Chicago,” I laughed. “I am just curious why you know I’m a…” The words felt thick on my tongue, but I let them out anyway, “…a country girl.”
“You’ve got the heart,” he said casually, unaware that he was making my knees quiver. “No city girl is as nice as you.”
I looked out the window to hide the heat rushing to my cheeks. “Then you obviously haven’t met my mother,” I joked, pushing the topic off of myself. The briefcase on my toesbrought me back to why I was here, what I was here to do. “So, I’ve been noticing this…thing you do after your rides. You kind of tap your head and point to the crowd. Can you tell me a little bit more about that?”
