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Kaleb doesn’t acknowledge her as Noah pays her. She opens the windows again to give him his change.
“You know the offer still stands,” she says, looking at Kaleb as she hands Noah the bags of food. “Sure you don’t want to tuck me away up on the peak with the rest of the necessities you need for winter? I could keep you warm.”
I can tell she’s only teasing, trying to play.
But Noah laughs, taking the milkshakes and passing them to me, which I hold on my lap. “Yeah, only if he puts you back into the pantry the twenty-three hours of the day he’s not using you.”
“Noah!” I burst out, my eyes wide.
But the chick is way ahead of me. She flings her hand into the Coke sitting at the window, its contents spilling all over Noah before the windows swing closed again, leaving him in the dust.
Splashes land on me, soaking into the seat, and I gasp at the ice and cold as Noah growls.
“Seriously!” he whines, flinging soda off his hands. “What the hell?”
I laugh, barely noticing Kaleb lifting me up and moving me over, out of the mess.
“You deserved that,” I tell Noah, but I’m still laughing.
He groans, pulling napkins out of the bag to dry himself. “I was just joking.”
“Well, I like her,” I tease.
A horn honks behind us, and Noah scowls as he pulls off, probably pissed he didn’t get that Coke now.
Kaleb wipes my arm down with a napkin, and I stop laughing, realizing I’m sitting in his lap. I look down on the red seat, seeing a dark pool of Coke where I was sitting.
He throws the wet napkin down and picks up another, pressing it to my thigh to soak up the mess on my jeans. My breath catches, and I put my hand on his to stop him.
“I’m…”
He looks up at me, and the last time he was this close was when he had me on the hood of the car.
“I’m…I’m okay,” I assure him, sopping up my jeans.
He removes his hand, letting me do it as he circles my waist like a seatbelt and goes back to playing on his phone, holding it with both hands around me.
“I can sit back down.”
I try to move off him, but he stops me, not taking his eyes off his phone as he pats the seat to remind me it’s wet.
Continuing to scroll, he keeps his arms firmly in place, and my pulse races.
And as we drive home, all I’m aware of is him. Noah’s not in the car. There’s no music. Despite the breeze, the truck is hot inside.
At some point I look over at him, and he raises his eyes, holding mine again.
And I know then that I was wrong. I’m on his radar.
“No!” I bellow, twisting my legs away before he can get a proper hold.
But I’m not fast enough. Jake grabs my ankles as I grapple for the rip in the mat to hang onto and try to kick free of him.
He yanks me down, and I scream in the garage, breaking out in a laugh I can’t hold back.
It’s been almost two days since our episode in the kitchen. We’ve worked, cooked, jarred some fruit, stocked the pantry with supplies for winter, and bottled up some water, since I’m told the pipes often freeze.
They’ve forced me to watch the entire first season of their karate show, and I made some new popsicle treats I found on Pinterest for the horses and chickens that Noah made fun of me for, but the animals loved. I watched them for a solid hour picking at the frozen corn. It was so cute.
