Page 20 of Fall Love

“Want to come with me?” I had no idea why I invited him, other than I was not ready to let him go.

There was just something about him. Something that made me bold enough to tease him about his outfit with a pinch of sexual innuendo. His easy response was playful, non-threatening, and refreshing. He never left my side earlier. He was sweet yet awkward. Nice, for lack of a better term.

Something else about him was his apparent connection to Landon, which reinforced that he wasn’t a complete stranger, and I was safe with him.

Then, there was this strange chemistry that swirled around us. One that had my curiosity piqued.

If he could handle a little intermission to our verbal foreplay, I could pick up on the other side of my mission and complete this night in a different way.

His brows lifted, forehead furrowing, but then his expression eased. “Yes. I’d love to come . . . with you.”

Ah, that teasing nature again. He was quick, and we’d been at it all night with the innuendos and comebacks.

I chuckled, and with my shoulders hunched from the cold, I tipped my head and spun for my truck, picking up the pace as the freezing temperature settled into my bones. I was visibly shivering as I set the key in the driver’s side door. The truck was old enough that it didn’t have remote gizmos and gadgets like modern vehicles.

A hand crank for the window. An actual key for the ignition. A physical gear shift.

The age also meant it would take more than a few minutes to heat up. I leaned across the bench seat and popped the button to open the passenger door.

“Holy fuck, is it cold,” he said, slipping into the passenger seat, the door creaking in the frigid air and closing with a soft slam. He blew into his hands before he asked, “How old is this thing?”

I smiled as I turned the key in the ignition, then cranked up the heat, spitting a blast of cold air into the cab.

“1975.” I tugged the gear stick into reverse to exit my parking spot. “It belonged to my dad.”

A thick lump clogged my throat; however, I forced a smile. The Ford Bronco was a washed-out green color with white trim over the wheel wells and along the roof and windows. She was a beauty, and my dad and I worked hard to restore her. I shouldn’t be driving her in the extreme cold temps and risk winter salt damage, but the night was special.

“I inherited it from him,” I further explained.

His head swung in my direction, the silence more comforting than awkward. I hated when people said, I’m so sorry for your loss, like it eased the pain. Nothing erased the absence, and I appreciated that he didn’t address it. He simply let me be.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“Worried I’d lead you to my lair and eat you?”

“Ah, so many opportunities in that question.”

A new shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold still lingering in the Bronco. Earlier, when our hands met, there’d been this weird crackling sensation in my palm and up my wrist. When he caught my fingers before I could pull them back. I didn’t want to shake his hand like our meeting had been some business arrangement, but I also wasn’t a hugger. I enjoyed a hug, but I didn’t pass them out casually like others did. Plus, a hug felt too simple for the feelings that swirled around inside me. The second I entered Fisk’s house, I’d been drawn to Driver. The attraction was almost magnetic.

“Actually.” I licked my lips. “I’m headed to the well. Are you familiar with it?”

He snorted. “Uh, just a little bit.” His eyes squinted, and he glanced out the side window.

“What do you know about it?” When I entered the party, I did not recognize him. Lovewell Landing was small, and Fisk had friends from all over. I chalked up the lack of recognition to that explanation. He was an out-of-towner, possibly a flatlander. Still, it didn’t mean he didn’t know about our famous well.

“I know it’s all superstition.” He rolled his head in my direction and smiled.

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping, superstition or not, that well gives me what I want.”

“Oh.” His voice hitches. “And what is it you want?”

“Now, you know I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’d have to kill you, and that is just too much effort. Plus, I’m not a big fan of blood or the cleanup that would be necessary.” And he’s too pretty to mess up.

His laugh was a sharp bark. Half you-are-funny and half you-better-be-joking.