Page 35 of Flock
He turns to me, seeming to read my thoughts, and his grin widens. “Something on your mind, Pup?” He’s well aware of exactly what I’m thinking, but I don’t play into it.
“I’m ... Will you teach me how to drive?”
“You know how to drive.”
“No, like you drive.”
My eyes rake his face and lower. And we share a second or two, lost in those seconds in that cave. I know he’s there too. His body draws tight as I lean into him.
“Please?”
Wordless, he stands, holding me to him as he nods at Tyler. “We’re going to take off.”
Grinning, I wave goodbye to the guys before following Sean out of the garage and into the parking lot. He pulls his keys from his pocket and tosses them to me, and I catch them easily, as a thrill runs through me.
“You’re really going to let me drive?” I eye his prized possession.
“Let’s see what you got.”
Amped, I slide into his car, loving the feel of the wheel at my fingertips.
Sean glides in next to me. “Know how to drive a stick?”
I nod. “My mom had one. I learned on it.”
I check the car is in neutral and turn the engine over, giving it a chance to warm up.
I appreciate the cool feel of the bench seat beneath the material of my sundress on my thighs.
“How did you guys manage to find all these classics?” I glance around the cabin in awe of the state of it. It’s been perfectly restored.
“They were all in my family—my uncle collected them, and when he died, we restored them. That’s how we all got started fixing cars.”
“They’re so rare. Aren’t you guys ever afraid to wreck them?”
“What’s the point of having something if you don’t use it?”
“Good point,” I say, securing the ancient seatbelt around my waist and run my finger over the SS on the wheel. Doubt creeps in but Sean drowns it out, reassurance falling easily from his lips. He’s not nervous, which makes me less so.
“It’s just a car. Easy on the turns—these weren’t made for mountain roads.”
“That’s true. So why do you drive them?”
A flash of teeth. “Because we fucking can.”
I shake my head at the pride in his eyes.
“You’re such a man.”
“Thank you. Now, you’ll get used to the give on the wheel, but take your time in figuring it out.”
I nod, studying the gear shift and frowning. “This isn’t like the one I learned on.”
“Take it slow,” he says, running a finger over the hand I have on the shift, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”
I grin over at him, and my breath gets stolen by his expression, the thump in my chest a sign of growing invitation. The cabin fills with tension, the good kind, as he rests comfortably on his side of the car.
“Ready?”
