Page 122 of It's About Time
I was a cocky kid with so much still to learn.
But I think I’m finally starting to see the light, to understand what’s important in my life—something real.
And Dilynne Marie Clark is about as real as it gets.
She’s unapologetically herself. She knows who she is and doesn’t cater to other people’s expectations. Hell, even the way she stood up to my father has made me respect her in a way I didn’t know was possible.
But what really sealed the deal for me over the past month is seeing a side of her that most people don’t get to see.
The instinct to protect the soft, feminine, sensitive woman she is on the inside makes me want to suit up for battle and defend her to the depths of the earth—the same way she showed up for me when all I did was try to push her away.
And so, I’m just trying to prove to her that she can trust me, and with time, I hope she will.
“So, is that what we’re going to do on this road trip, Elliot? Tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets?”
I glance over at her and shrug. “If you want.”
“Ha. No, thank you,” she jokes, but I can tell the topic has made her uncomfortable.
“Maybe later then.” I reach for the bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, pop it open, and hold it out to her. “Want some?”
“Hell yeah. These are my favorite.” She slides her hand inside the bag and takes out a handful.
“I know.”
Her eyes meet mine, asking so many questions without ever speaking a word.
“I also got Sour Patch peaches, and some shortbread cookies from Bites & Bliss.”
She arches a brow. “Any special messages on them?”
I pop open the box and read them out loud since she’s driving. “Eat Me. Pull my hair. Bend over.”
She rolls her eyes and glances back over to me. “I’m beginning to sense a theme with your baked goods.”
Closing the box, I put it back in the bag. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who started this, weren’t you?”
Dilynne keeps her eyes forward, not bothering to look at me now at all. “I did. But I also find it interesting that you brought most of my favorite foods on this trip, besides…”
“French toast,” I finish for her, and that makes her peer over at me again. “Have you forgotten that we’ve known each other for almost nineteen years, Dilynne?”
She huffs out a laugh. “No, Elliot. I most certainly havenotforgotten that detail.”
“Good. Now, tell me about Motorlux,” I say before popping a Dorito in my mouth and mentally patting myself on the back for my small wins so far.
My grandfather would be proud.
I offered to drive instead, but she wasn’t having it, and I figured letting her have control in this situation would make it easier to get her to open up in the long run. Besides, she’s driving her Camaro, the same one we had sex on the hood of, so hopefully the memory will offer some introspection as well.
She finishes eating her chips and then wipes her hands on her denim shorts. “Well, the team will be here on Tuesday to pick up the Porsche so it can be delivered to California before we get there.”
“Your brother mentioned that detail at the winery this past week.”
She nods. “Which makes me nervous because after I get this gauge, I have less than forty-eight hours to finish every last detail on the car. And I feel like I’m forgetting something, even though I know the chances of that are slim to none.”
I reach over and rest my hand on her thigh, watching her shiver under my touch.
Fuck, if I didn’t think she’d freak out if we fell behind on time, I’d tell her to pull over right now so I could fuck her along this bench seat and mark every inch of this car and her body.
