The sudden laugh surprises me, and God, the canines. I can't stop noticing them, can't stop imagining them on my neck. The laugh lasts exactly long enough to be devastating and then he shakes his head, still smiling, and nods at the seat beside him.
"Get in, Trouble."
Trouble. That's new. I bite my lip so I don't smile too hard at it, shrug like it doesn't matter, and get in.
The smell of his car hits me immediately, that new car scent still lingering, but mixed with something clean and faintly woody. His sweater is tossed on the back seat, and the whole space has that particular warmth of somewhere that's been his all day.
"Thank you," he says as he pulls away from the curb.
"I want it noted that I was fine." Because I can't let him win completely.
"Of course. Thank you for indulging me anyway."
I cross my arms and scoff, but there's no heat in it. He knows it. He knows I know he knows it.
We drive in silence. I really am close to home, which means this is already almost over. I don't know what to do with the fact that I mind, that I want more time in this car, with him.
Instead of examining that, I decide to ask him something that's been grating on me for a very long time.
"Can I ask you something?"
He glances at me, eyes wary. "Depends."
"Why out of town?"
The pause that follows is just a beat too long to benothing.
"What?"
"You go out of town. When you..." I gesture vaguely, hoping he understands. "All I hear is that you go out of town when you want to get laid or date or whatever."
He's watching the road, frowning, not answering, which tells me enough.
"So why out of town?"
"Privacy." Flat, like it's obvious. "Small town and all that."
I raise a brow. "Privacy as in Cherry whatever-her-name-is leaving your house at dawn?"
I hate how jealous I sound, but I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. It's been sitting with me for weeks, and now it's out and I can't take it back.
"No." No elaboration, no defense. Just the word sitting there like a closed door.
"There's a rumor."
He scoffs, bitterly. "I know there's a rumor."
"And?"
He exhales, deep and tired. "She planted it herself, which tells you everything you need to know about her."
He pauses, hands flexing on the wheel. "She doesn't do it for me. She has never done it for me. And even if she did..." His jaw tightens. "She's made Erin's life miserable for years. She's gone after Poppy. She's the kind of person who smiles at you while she's deciding where to put the knife."
His gaze cuts to me, so intense I brace against the seat. "I would never do that.”
I believe him. Completely, immediately, without having to think about it.
"Okay."
