Page 21 of His Saving Grace

Chapter 5

Gracestoodinthe seedy parking lot of the bar and watched Simon’s taillights fade into the distance. Shit. What was she going to do now? She didn’t even get a chance to tell him she didn’t have a license. Yeah, she knew how to drive, but if they got pulled over, she was screwed. Damn Mason and the way he distracted her.

She waited a beat, and then another. For what, she didn’t know, because he wasn’t coming back. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirt and chewed on her lower lip. She had two choices: get in the truck and just do it or… Damn, she didn’t know what else to do at this point.

Think about it, Grace. If you get pulled over, you can just tell the officer you don’t have a license but you’re driving your drunk friend home. It’s better than letting him get behind the wheel. Right? You know how that turns out.

Yes, yes, she did, which was why she needed to do the right thing. Okay then, decision made. She just needed to make sure she didn’t do anything to get pulled over for and everything would be fine.

She turned back to Mason, who still leaned where Simon had left him. “Where are your keys?”

Another of those dazzling smiles. “In my pocket.”

“Get them.”

“I can’t,” Mason said. “You’ll have to do it.”

The implications of what he was suggesting hit her, and she felt her eyes widen. No way. After what had just happened inside the bar, there was no way she was putting her hand in his pocket. “Umm, no, that’s not happening.”

Mason gave an over-the-top shrug and then made a show of trying to slip his hand in his front pocket. He was completely useless, but whether it was because he was drunk, or he was pretending, she didn’t know. But this was getting them nowhere.

“It’s too hard.” He threw back his head and laughed at his terrible double entendre.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Her eyes rolled so far back in her head she was surprised she didn’t get a glimpse of brain matter. “What are you, twelve?”

She stepped up to him and slid her hand into his pocket. His intoxicating scent was even more pronounced in the fresh air, where it wasn’t competing with all the others in the bar. She held her breath, hoping to stop from doing something idiotic. She would swear she was the one who’d drunk themselves into a stupor.

The heat in his pocket was like reaching into a furnace, and her fingers twitched, ready and eager to explore. Her hand closed around the keys and she pulled them out, stepping back before she gave in and did something regrettable.

Disappointment wound through her, which was stupid because rubbing on the drunk Major in the parking lot was even more stupid than kissing him in the bar. Pushing her idiotic reaction aside, she moved over and unlocked the passenger door. She pulled it open and indicated he should get in the truck with a sweep of her hand.

With a groan, Mason climbed inside and sagged against the leather seat. He closed his eyes and his head lolled to the side.

Great, he just passed out.

Sighing, Grace grabbed the seat belt and leaned across him to fasten it. She reached for the buckle and her hand brushed against his hard thigh.

“You’re very beautiful, you know.”

At the rough, quiet words, she turned her face toward him. Deep, intense heat glowed in his eyes. His fingers skimmed across her waist, and she jumped. The touch burned through the fabric of her t-shirt, almost as if it was branding her. She wanted so badly to lean into it, everything else be damned.

The buckle clicked into place and she stepped back, away from his heat and his scent and his touch. Sanity returned. Thank goodness for good old common sense. She closed the door and stalked around to the driver’s side.

She climbed into the cab and sat behind the wheel. Mason’s legs were so much longer than hers, she couldn’t even reach the pedals. She was like a little kid pretending to drive her daddy’s truck. It took a bit of fumbling, but she finally managed to move the seat up enough so that her feet touched the floorboards.

Mason watched her the entire time. The pressure of his gaze from across the seat made her skin prickle. Why did he always make her feel like a specimen under a microscope? She glanced at him, and he smiled that lazy, sexy smile he’d been flashing in the bar. She loved how relaxed the alcohol made him. He was normally so intense, it was refreshing to get a glimpse of the other end of the spectrum.

She shook her head—mostly to dislodge the not so bright idea of crawling across the seat and into his lap—and fumbled with the seat belt. Then she turned the key, and the truck roared to life.

“No one, other than me, gets to drive Blue. Ever.”

“How come?” She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful vintage truck. She could understand his reluctance to let anyone near it. A touch of unease trickled through her. Not only was she about to drive his prized possession, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d driven a stick. This might be interesting.

She put her left foot on the clutch and popped the truck into reverse. She shoulder-checked out the back window and pressed her right foot on the gas, pulling her left foot off the clutch. The truck stalled almost immediately.

“You released the clutch too fast.” Mason pointed at her feet. “A little slower and you should be okay.”

She followed his instructions and managed to get them out of the space. She pressed her foot on the clutch again and shifted into first gear. The truck shuddered, but they managed to make it to the road without another stall.