Page 51 of My All American Girl

Sarah got in the passenger seat, awfully quiet now. It was all fun and games when she knew there was nothing I could say or do to call out her flirting. But now, it was just the two of us.

“What is it with men and big trucks?”

I chuckled as I started the engine, the familiar rumble soothing my nerves slightly. “Some men like the power, the strength. Makes them feel like they can handle anything that comes their way,” I replied, pulling out of the parking lot.

Sarah leaned back in her seat, her eyes focused on the passing scenery outside. “You know,” she began, her voice low and sultry. “I think it’s more about compensating for something they lack.”

I shot her a sideways glance. “Maybe for some guys. Keep in mind, my other car is usually a jet, so this truck isn’t much compared to that.”

Sarah laughed. “Good point.”

She leaned forward, turned on the radio, and cranked it up. Then she rolled the window down, kicked off her shoes, and stuck her bare feet out the window. The wind rustled the skirt of her dress, pushing it back and revealing more thigh than I could handle.

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to seduce me or if this was just her being her and the seduction was a side effect. She was a vision of temptation, carefree and languid in the humid Mississippi evening.

She glanced over at me, her lips forming the words of the song playing on the stereo. She caught me staring, and instead of pulling her dress down, she pulled it up further, showing off a bare hip and the strap of a thong. I wanted to rip it off with my teeth.

I fixed my eyes on the road, gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary. This was Mo’s daughter.

“Have you always been such a stickler for the rules?” Sarah asked, her voice teasing.

I didn’t answer. Following the rules was drilled into me when I was her age. Following the rules had kept me alive. But I’d never wanted to break them more than I did right then. It would be so easy. And so good.

And so wrong.

“Pull the truck over,” Sarah said suddenly.

I shot her a look. “What?”

“Pull. The truck. Over.”

I hit the brakes and took the dirt road that led into the woods. I had no idea if it was a driveway, a park, or a road to nowhere. It seemed like nobody was around for miles. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, she unclipped her seatbelt and turned to face me.

“What are you doing, Sarah?” I asked, my voice strained.

“Nothing.”

“Sarah, you have to stop this,” I said with very little conviction in my voice.

“Stop what?” She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my cheek. “What do you think I’m doing, Dean?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” I growled.

She smirked, her eyes dark with desire. “I thought you got your kicks breaking barriers and testing new things.”

“Sarah, this is different. You’re my student. I’m your mentor. This is⁠—”

“Wrong?” she finished for me.

I shook my head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Enough is enough. This can’t happen.”

She leaned back, frustration and disappointment flashing across her face. “Why not? Because you think I’m just a kid? I’m not, Dean. I know what I want. And I know you want it, too.”

I looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of her words. “It’s not about that. Your father trusts me.”

“Oh, it sounds like you’d rather be in this truck with him right now.” She shot me a look.

“You know that’s not true,” I said.

I could see the struggle in her eyes, the conflict between her desires and the lines she knew she shouldn’t cross. It was an alluring sight, but I knew I had to put an end to this before things went any further.

“Sarah, we both know we can’t do this.” I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Technically, you would be taking care of me. I have a little ache. I think you could make it better.”

“Sarah, this is not a good idea,” I said, even as my resolve faded.

She leaned over once again. “Do you know how many bad ideas have turned out to be very good? I mean, think about what you do for a living. You push aircraft beyond what people say the limits are. Is that a good idea? Definitely not. But does it work out? Do you get a thrill when you accomplish something incredible? Something you probably shouldn’t have done?”

“It is not even the same thing,” I said with a shake of my head.

“You’re right.” She laughed. “Me and you doing whatever this is, isn’t going to result in the loss of a ninety-million-dollar jet and potentially your life. I mean really, put it into the grand scheme of things.”

She was killing me. How could I argue with her reasoning? We were here. We were both ready and willing.

“Dammit,” I muttered.