The wipers streak against the glass. With each swipe, the quickness of the last few moments dissipate, and my present situation becomes clearer.
And hotter.
And squirmier.
I reach up and turn the heat down.
“I figured you were cold.”
“I was. Now I’m not.” I point at the bakery. “If you could drop me off there, I’d appreciate it.”
“You can’t have lunch there.”
“And why not?”
He grins. “Megan McCarter works there. She’ll poison you or something.”
“Molly’s sister?” I laugh. “She will not. What would she have against me?”
He bites his lip, and I know whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to get a reaction out of me—one in addition to the way my thighs clench together as I look at his lips.
“The first thing she’ll have against you is you have a vagina,” he says. “That’s enough for her to want to maim you for life.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s true, and you know it.”
I think back on the McCarter sister’s escapades. Like how Megan was accused of sleeping with the gym teacher in high school and he lost his job. Or how Molly slept with half of the football team her senior year so she’d be crowned Homecoming Queen. Not because she wanted it, but because she didn’t want Jessica Grimes to get it.
“You might be right,” I admit.
“And the second thing,” he says with a tease in his tone, “is she wants my cock so bad she could taste it.”
“Well, I’m good to know she hasn’t tasted it,” I say.
I turn toward the door so he doesn’t see the flash of jealousy in my eyes or the way my jaw tenses at the thought of that little hoochie being with Machlan.
He laughs, his hand gripping my thigh and shaking it a little as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. A bolt of flames extends from the center of his palm down my leg, up my side and radiating out until it settles at the base of my belly.
“Ooh, did that spark a little jealousy, Had?” he teases.
“Nope. I just don’t like thinking about all the women who have tasted you.”
He roars with laughter. I bite my lip so hard I think it might bleed.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he says. “I haven’t actually slept with everyone you probably think I have. I mean, I’m a good-looking motherfucker. I get it. But Lance slept with all of them, and I don’t really like sloppy seconds.”
My lip pops free with a laugh. “I’m so glad your confidence isn’t waning.”
He grins, amused I’m playing along. It’s infectious. I find myself grinning back, my cheeks aching.
“How’s your confidence these days?” he asks.
“My confidence is fine, thank you.”
“I just thought since I shared some insight into my sex life, maybe you’d want to share some into yours.”
“Um, no,” I say. I consider riling him up but enjoy the playfulness too much to risk it. “You would actually be bored to death if I talked to you about my sex life.”
He takes his eyes off the road for a lingering moment. They’re filled with a mischievousness that really is a Machlan trademark; a glimmer of naughtiness that could go a plethora of ways. “Your sex life is my favorite sex life.”
My jaw drops to my lap. I think I misheard him, but my heart is screaming that I didn’t. I try to keep my gaze pinned to his eyes and not on the way his lips purse together. Or the way his neck has the perfect amount of scruff dotting it. Or the way his white T-shirt, covered with an unbuttoned flannel, is cut in a way that gives me a peek of his broad chest.
He flashes me a smirk before looking back at the road. “That’s the danger of Megan. She knows.”
“Why would she think that?” I fumble for words. It’s hard to say a set of words when your brain is repeating another.
“Why would she think there was anything between you and me? Oh, I don’t know,” he grins.
A heat rises to my cheeks. I’m unsure if he’s just messing with me or insinuating there is something between us.
A mixed response catches in my throat. Clearing it with a frazzled cough, I point as we fly by Carlson’s. “You just passed the bakery.”
“Yeah.”
We stop at the stop sign by the library. As we wait our turn, Machlan’s fingers tap against the steering wheel.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle. Everything is quiet and peaceful. His truck smells like his bedroom. His breathing slows my heartbeat to match his tempo. Looking at his profile as he chews on his bottom lip makes me so comfortable I could curl my legs up and drift away into an easy slumber.
On a normal day, I’d start to panic, to feel pressure of the unknown and start prodding. A bubble of alarm wants to burst and spread through my veins as Machlan turns his head. I think of Emily’s advice and pause.
“They’re having taco salads at Peaches today. You like them, right?” he asks.
I nod.
He motions for the car on our right to pass through the intersection. “No onions, no beans. Extra olives. Right?”
I nod again, this time with the biggest smile.
He nods too and settles back in his seat. I’d normally comment on how smug he looks, but this time, I let it pass. I’m probably a little smug too.
Fifteen
Machlan
The brown paper bag holding the Peaches take-out crinkles under Hadley’s fingers. She sits quietly beside me, the taco salad on her lap, and gazes across the soybean fields at the rainbow stretching across the sky.
Nana told me a story once that a rainbow is God’s promise not to flood the world again. I remember sitting on her lap on the porch and having her read me this story from a little green-bound book she had. I don’t know why that stuck with me all these years, but it did. Every time I see one, I think of her. I don’t think of her long today because I can’t think of anything besides Hadley sitting in my truck.
I hate that I like it so much. The way I feel calmer with her around is something I crave. I don’t feel this way around another person or in another spot. Just with her.
I tell myself it’s because I know she won’t hold anything I do or say against me. Not really. If she would, she would’ve stopped speaking to me years ago.
She should’ve.
She could’ve.
I would’ve had the roles been reversed.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I steer the truck in the opposite direction of Crave and the apartment.
“You got somewhere to be?”
“No.”
“Okay then.”
She looks at me, expecting clarification or a reason, but I don’t give her one. She’ll assume it’s because I’m being a dick, because I usually am, but this time, she is wrong.
I don’t answer because I don’t know where we’re going.
All I know for sure is I saw her leave the apartment and didn’t think too much about it. Then it started raining, so I went after her on the small chance I’d find her stranded … and I did. And here we sit in the cab of my truck filled with her perfume, the heater on low, the music switched from my usual rock station to some country channel she loves.
Heaven and hell don’t work together, but it damn sure feels like they do.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she says. The bag crinkles again. “And for buying my lunch.”
“No problem.”
Easing up on the accelerator, I run my hand down the front of my jeans. We’ve been in this situation so many times—her in the front seat of my truck while I drive around town with nowhere to go. It’s how we killed many Friday nights back in the day.
Back in the good old days.
The silence fills every nook and cranny. The two of us are the sole occupants of the truck, but it feels like there’s no room left. It’s almost too crowded to even breathe. I need to say something, anything, but come up empty. So, like a dumbass, I keep driving and leave George Strait to do the talking.
“You need a haircut,” she says. “Getting a little long back here.”
Her fingers brush against the back of my neck, ruffling the too-long strands that do need a trim. My neck flexes against her fingers, trying to deepen the touch. The warmth from her touch trickles through my body. I can’t remember when someone touched me like this—without an end game or to get something. Just because she actually cares.
It fucks with me.
“I can’t believe Nana hasn’t said anything,” she says.
I fiddle with the cruise control button to keep my hands busy so I don’t reach for her. “Oh, she has.”
“I bet. Do you remember when Peck let his almost turn into a mullet?” She throws her head back and laughs. “I thought Nana was going to have a coronary.”
“Oh, yeah. How do you forget that? The harder she rode him about it, the harder he fought against cutting it.”
“The best was when he would wear a bandana and push it all back like they did in the eighties.” She looks at me with the sweetest, simplest smile. “You boys put her through a lot, you know that?”
I regrip the steering wheel. “Yeah, well, I think we put everyone through a lot. Don’t ya think?”
The truck turns toward Bluebird Hill. The tires hit the gravel, the sound ripping through the air as we slow. Hadley rolls down her window and takes a deep breath.
“Like the smell of wet gravel?” I laugh.
“It’s the smell of my youth.” Even she laughs at that. “I have Peaches take-out, gravel, the grass still wet from the rain … and you.” Her smile fades. “That was a really weird thing to say.”
Weird? Yes.
True? Also, yes.
Awkward? Hell, yes.
My stomach sinks with that heavy, uncomfortable sensation that won’t budge. It just sits inside you and makes you miserable. I shift my weight in the seat and loosen the white-knuckle grip I have on the steering wheel in hopes of releasing some of the stress.