His head dropped into crook of my neck, the hair from his mustache prickling my ear. An army of shivers marched down my spine. “There’s always tonight.” The hum of his voice bounced through my chest.
Don’t turn around. Don’t even think about it.
He spun the handle until the door popped open. The tension-filled air rushed out, allowing me to exhale.
“Do you wanna just ride with me?” he asked casually, as if the ungodly amount of sexual pull between the two of us wasn’t trying its best to drown us.
“Sure,” I replied automatically. “I just need to grab a few things from my car.”
I tossed my computer and work bag onto the passenger seat, replacing it with my tan suede purse that was only big enough to hold my wallet, keys, phone, and a single lip gloss in my favorite honey-colored shade.
My Jeep was parked next to a large but subtly tricked-out black Ford Raptor, one I could only assume belonged to Stetson.
Stetson beat me to the passenger door and pulled it open, stepping aside and extending one of his hands out while the other fell to the small of my back. “A gentleman always gets the door,” he said.
The stability of his hand resting on my back filled me with comfort and I instinctively reached for his other hand as he helped me climb in.
The slam of the door released a burst of air, his signature scent engulfing my senses. Even his truck smelled good. The inside was pristine—not a single thing cluttered the floorboards, no empty water bottles in the cup holders, not even a stray piece of trash. The truck looked like it had just been pulled from the dealership parking lot.
I gazed around, looking for anything that might tell me more about this man. The chestnut leather was a stark contrast against the rest of the black interior. My eyes landed on a square picture clipped to his visor, the well-known but terribly outdated watercolor blue background signaling it was a school picture. The clip holding it in place hid the face of whoever it was, but after hearing him talk about Ruby, I could only guess it was her.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little off.”
“I’m good,” I lied.
“All right, just making sure. Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Scar! Hi!” Maggie shouted from across the bar the moment I stepped foot inside The Wheel, inviting a handful of people to bring their attention to Stetson and me.
I wanted to be mortified, but that would be a lie. Instead, I watched as eyes widened and jaws dropped while the two of us moved toward the bar.
“Hi!” I responded, wrapping my arms around her as she jumped up from Booker’s lap to greet us.
Her yellow hair cascaded down her back in waves of voluminous curls. The sparkle in her brown eyes was no doubt from the man she clearly had wrapped around her finger.
“Hey, Stetson, long time no see,” she said.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it,” he agreed, leaning in to hug her. “Hey, man,” he added, throwing his hand out for Booker.
“What’s up? How’s the album coming?”
Stetson’s body turned toward me as though looking for confirmation. “Actually, it’s coming along a lot better now.” The words were for Booker, but they were said while he stared at me. “Thanks to this one.”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve just been there for moral support,” I joked, swatting his forearm.
“Speaking of, I owe you a drink. What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a whiskey grenadine,” I said, having to remind myself to remove my hand from his arm.
He cocked his head. “A whiskey grenadine? Like that’s it? Nothing else?”
“Don’t even ask. This girl is ride or die for her whiskey grenadines. You’ll never change her mind. It’s the weirdest thing,” Maggie piped in, finding herself back on Booker’s lap.
The taste of jealously stung the back of my throat. I’d touched Stetson, but not like that, not intimately.
Focus, Scarlett.
