Page 28 of Drive
“You okay?” he asked, reaching forward and opening the passenger side door forher.
She gave him a tight nod. “Mmm-hmm.”
He watched her slip into the front seat, but instead of looking back at him, she kept her eyeshidden.
Jacques shut her door, his head crowded with thoughts. He’d seen her look that way the first time she rode with him. Tense. Preoccupied.Afraid.
He made his way to the driver’s side, slid in beside her, and fired up the engine. After he backed out and put the car into drive, Jacques braked, reached for her left hand, and clasped it inhis.
“You don’t like cars. They scare you.” He met her eyes when they shot to his, clearly stunned. She said nothing, but she looked wary. “I don’t know why they scare you, but I want to tell you I’m a really good driver. I’ve never had a ticket or anaccident.”
She blinked up at him, and he squeezed herhand.
“You’re safe withme.”
The wary look in her eyes changed. He watched her mouth work, but she didn’t say anything. Finally, she nodded and squeezed back. Whatever had happened to her, it wasn’t something she could discuss, and he didn’t want her to feel like he expected herto.
“What should we listen to?” heasked.
A tentative smile played on her lips. “Surprise me,” she said. “You’re good atthat.”
“Okay.” He thumbed through his library before making a selection and hitting the gas. As they rolled down her street, the opening guitar and synths built up the beat, welcoming thedrums.
“What’s this?” she asked, her hand tightening around hisfingers.
“Bad Suns’ ‘We Move Like theOcean.’”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with recognition. “I’ve heard ‘Cardiac Arrest’ on Spotify, but I don’t think I’ve ever listened to thisone.”
Jacques grinned, glad again he’d given her a song she’d neverheard.
“It’s good,” she added a moment later. She’d lost most of the tension that had stymied her when she approached his car, but Jacques could still see a contrast between the Rainey who sat next to him now and the one who’d hugged him in her home only minutes before. She’d told him earlier that she didn’t eat out often, but if Jacques’s guess was right, she didn’t go out much. Period. She was a little homebody who loved her music, books, and herdog.
A beautiful, funny, brave homebody who’d agreed to go out withhim.
As he drove, Jacques was filled with the sudden need to prove himself to her. He’d told her she was safe with him, but he wanted to give her more than that. Yes, keeping her safe was paramount, but he wanted her to feel secure and enjoy herselftoo.
After turning onto Jefferson Street, he found a spot across from Pho’tastic. The Vietnamese restaurant had only been open for about a year, and because it was small and located downtown, he knew they might have to wait for a table. But it was a Tuesday night, and when they stepped inside, Jacques was relieved to see the place wasn’tcrowded.
They chose a booth along the side wall, and since Rainey said she was hungry, Jacques placed an order for winter rolls that he knew would arrive inminutes.
“What can I get you guys to drink?” their server asked, smiling at him. The wait staff at Pho’tastic was also a small group. He’d had the server with the septum half hoop before, and he’d seen her at a few of hisshows.
Jacques glanced at Rainey to see her eyeing the shelves on the bar lined with sake sets. She looked back athim.
“Do you like sake?” she asked. From the look in her eyes, it was clear shedid.
“Please bring us an order of sake and two waters,” he told their server, watching Rainey smile as hedid.
“Thank you,” she said when they were alone again. She pulled the menu toward her. “What do you usuallyget?”
Before he could answer, a couple approached their table. Jacques looked up to see Casey North, the lead singer of Ripple Effect and a Grade-Aasshole.
“Damn you, Floyd,” Jacques muttered under hisbreath.
“Heyyyy, J-man,” Casey said, coming at him with an extended hand. Clenching his teeth, Jacques had no choice but to offer his back or risk Casey clapping him into a manhug.
“Hey,” he muttered, giving a nod of greeting to the woman on Casey’sarm.
