I adjust my hold on my jacket, coffee, and water bottle so that I can drape the leather over my shoulder. Nothing smells better than horses and tack. Maybe it makes me strange, but I think it’s one of the happiest smells in the world.
When I reach the passenger side of the truck, the door swings open before I can reach for it. Zane has reached across the middle seat to pop the latch for me.
“Thank you,” I say as I climb in.
My cowboy hat bumps the headrest and tumbles forward. Zane catches it for me and sets it on the middle seat. “Thanks,” I say as I set the bridle down on the floorboards.
“No problem. Thanks for keeping me company on the drive.”
I glance around the inside of his truck. I’ve never been in here before. Usually, if we’re riding somewhere together, I’m the one who’s driving. “Your pickup is actually clean.”
He looks at me with a sheepish grin. “I cleaned it out for you.”
My heart thumps excitedly. He was thinking of me. He wanted it to be nice for me.
There is so much I could say right now but instead, I just say, “Thanks for driving.”
He shifts the truck into first and drives the loop around the barn, then heads down the driveway towards the road.
I lean my head back against the headrest and lift the coffee cup to my lips as the truck and trailer crunch down the driveway. It sounds different first thing in the morning. The gravel is crunchier before the sun has time to bake it. Or maybe my brain isn’t awake enough to process sounds correctly first thing in the morning. I’ll never know.
Zane breaks the silence. “Did you just do all that running around with an open cup in your hand?”
Glancing down at the cup, I pick a horse hair out of it—it must have fallen from the bridle, then take a sip. “I don’t like travel mugs.”
“And why not?” he asks as he reaches for his own travel coffee in his cupholder. He picks it up and flips open the latch with his thumb, then takes a long drink.
“I spill more with a travel cup than an open cup.”
“Now that…that doesn’t even make sense.” He eyes me skeptically.
I shrug. “I don’t understand it myself. But if I run around with an open cup, I can drink all of it without spillingandwithout burning my tongue on too hot coffee.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” He shakes his head and tips the coffee cup up for another sip. As if it had been listening in on our conversation, the lid pops off and coffee sloshes down the front of Zane’s shirt.
“What the—” He slows the truck down as we’re coming to the end of the driveway.
It takes everything in me not to laugh at his predicament, and he seems to know it. He looks at me sharply. “Not a single word.”
I mime locking my lips and throwing the key away.
He glances around the truck. “Dang. I think I took everything useful out of the pickup.”
“Here.” I lean over and try to dry some of the coffee off the front of his shirt with my jacket.
He grabs my hand and helps guide me to the worst of the spill.
Somewhere between patting his left rib cage and down to his abs, I realize that he’s holding my hand, and I’m rubbing a very thin piece of fabric all over him.
I glance at his face, but he’s still focused on the spill and hasn’t clocked this weird little moment.
I swallow the lump in my throat as he presses my hand—and in turn my jacket against his hard stomach for another pass. I can feel his abdominal muscles through his shirt.I can count them.
My breath catches and I realize that I am in way over my head with this crush.
Because Zane isn’t even remotely affected by what’s going on right now.
“I think that’s most of it,” he finally says and I jerk back, yanking my hand and sweatshirt away.
