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“And modest, too.” I chuckled weakly. “Well, I would be happy to let you drive, but I’ve got enough to explain to Iris.”
“Meaning?”
“You ripped off my gas-tank door!” I exclaimed.
He huffed. “I’ve been secluded for decades. The last car I drove was wound by crank. There have been some changes in technology, but the principles are the same. Besides, the gas tank is nearly full. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I doubt that,” I said. “I appreciate it, Collin, really, but I can’t—”
“You can, and you will,” he insisted. “And imagine how much faster we will get to the Hollow tomorrow if we spend this evening driving instead of resting at a motel.”
“So … skip the motel and drive on through?” I asked.
This was the perfect solution to my having to tell Collin about our money problem. And we’d arrive in the Hollow early, which would impress Iris. If Collin didn’t veer into oncoming traffic and kill us both, which would be a down side.
“And if we arrive in town early and complete my business with Ophelia, perhaps we can spend some time together.”
“We’re spending time together now,” I reminded him, keeping my voice even, despite the excited fluttering in my belly.
“Yes, time restricted by deadlines, work policies, and your reluctance to get involved with a client. I would like to see if we enjoy each other’s company without those constraints.”
“You’re worried that you only like me because you have a chauffeur fetish?” I asked, tilting my head.
He frowned at me. “Miranda.”
“It’s the saucy little hats, isn’t it? Everybody loves a saucy hat.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I am reconsidering my previous statement.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “You don’t see anything bad happening?”
“No, but that’s no guarantee with you around.”
“If you have to stop for gas, wake me up,” I told him sternly as I pulled the car onto the shoulder.
“I will,” he promised.
I slipped into the passenger seat as he jogged around the car to the driver’s side. My photo journal was propped open in the console. Collin had shamelessly leafed through it again, despite my protests of privacy. I shoved it between the passenger seat and the console and told myself that it was rude to gripe about it when he’d been so complimentary about my photos. While I’d gassed up the car earlier in the evening, he’d subtly worked in questions about when I would be returning to photography. I’d told him I had no such plans and mentioned Jason’s suggestion of taking Christmas photos at Sears for the diapered set. He was suitably horrified and dropped the subject.
“This is surprisingly comfortable,” I told him, settling into the new front-seat perspective.
He clicked his seatbelt and slid his jacket over me. “Close your eyes and get some rest.”
I smiled, nuzzling my nose into the collar. “Talk to me,” I said. “Your voice helps me fall asleep.”
“I don’t know how to take that.”
“It’s a compliment,” I assured him.
“OK, have you ever wanted to be turned?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I would do more damage as an immortal. I’m not afraid of dying … I just want some dignity when it happens. But I think we both know it’s probably going to involve a falling piano or an exotic tropical disease.”
“I think the world would be a lot less interesting without you in it,” he said. “I rather like having you around. Yes, it’s frustrating. But it’s also an incredible relief. The weight is off my shoulders. I don’t feel responsible for the safety of the people around me … except for you, of course. That’s enough to keep me busy, but it’s nice to have some focus.”
I smirked as Collin started describing his childhood in England, his mother, his brother, in a rolling baritone that had my eyelids drooping. My head sank back against the seat. My sleep was deep and untroubled.
I was standing in the middle of a crowded, smoky concert venue, one of those run-down old taverns that try to draw in the younger crowds with watered-down beer and concentrated bad ’80s rock. A mosh pit had formed around me like a sea storm of bodies, twitching and bashing against one another because the occupants were so bored with the band that being knocked unconscious seemed like a better entertainment alternative. I was battered by the waves of unwashed bodies, tempted to drop to my knees and crawl to the nearest fire exit. But that would mean touching the floor, and even in my dreams, I wasn’t going to do that.
