“Okay.” He blinks, looking so unsure I want to—nope. No hugging Jonah.
I turned back to my task. “We need to get ready before your dad and my mom start banging on the wall for us to hurry up.”
We have to wait for the auto parts store to open, so we can’t leave as early as yesterday. Mom seems a little better today. She has more energy.
Mom and George stay at the hotel and finish their breakfast, while I go with Jonah to fix the wipers on the van. The fuse was blown, so that’s a quick fix. We don’t even need the tools Jonah apparently stashed in the back.
Jonah decides we also need to change the wiper blades. His hands are sure as he works, and that stupid competency kink comes roaring back. It’s inconvenient. When Jonah looks away, I adjust myself.
“All done. Can you check they’re working?”
“Sure.” I jump in the driver’s seat and realize I don’t know which knob controls the wipers. He doesn’t rush me, and after turning the lights on and off again, I find the right switch. The wipers jump to life, and Jonah and I grin at each other.
He opens the driver’s side door, and my heart leaps. What is he doing?
“Need to fix the window.”
Right.
He pulls the glass up and adjusts it. Trying to get it on its track or something. He finally gets it working and it rolls up and down. “It might not last, but at least for now, we’re good.”
“You’re pretty handy to have around,” I say, joking with him.
He tilts his head and our eyes lock. “Am I?”
“You are.” I feel lightheaded as I lean my arm against the steering wheel.
Hooonk!
Shit. I jump back. And Jonah laughs. But this isn’t the normal Jonah laugh. Not the one he gives me anyway. This laugh is warm. Inviting.
“Ready to go?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
He leans his arm over the door and grins. “Are you driving?”
“No.” I scramble out of the van, brushing against him in my hurry to get out of his seat. God. He smells amazing. “Excuse me.”
Rushing to the passenger side, I try to ignore my jumbled thoughts and hard cock.
I’m able to get control of myself before we get back to the hotel. It’s not long before everyone’s once again loaded in the van and we’re back on the road.
Stretching my legs, I lean my head back. “Welcome” by Fort Minor plays in my earbuds. The familiar song helps soothe my nerves.
This is the best seat in the van. I don’t have to share with anyone. Or talk to anyone.
George is driving, and Mom is once again in the passenger seat. This time, I got the back, and it’s nice having so much room. The sun is out, but George checks the wipers more than once, and they seem to work fine.
When we reach the interstate without anything breaking, I close my eyes and try to lose myself in the music.
But my eyes don’t seem to get the message. They keep straying to Jonah.
He’s playing with Maisy—and Bell—keeping her entertained. He’s such a good guy. That’s always irritated me. But I’ve never really examined why. Is it because it highlights how different we are? Or because he’s usually a nice guy to everyone but me. Like I’m not worthy.
I know that feeling well.
It’s getting harder and harder to hate the guy. Which feels way too dangerous. After a while, my music is distracting, and I turn it off so I can hear Maisy’s happy voice and Jonah’s laugh.
