Page 11 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

“Where are you going? Why? When?” Cash asked, crowding me with that imposing body. It was a classic Greer intimidation tactic and once upon a time, it would have worked. But I’d become immune to the way they hovered and glowered to get their way.

I was a woman in charge. After all, I’d been taking notes from Carol for years.

I poked a finger in his chest, sending him back a step, and held up my chin. “Today. And I’m not sure exactly where I’m going yet.”

“Huh?” Gemma asked at the same time Easton said, “I thought you were going to Oregon.”

“Yes, eventually I’ll get to Oregon. But Carol stopped by this morning and gave me an idea. So I’m going to explore before I go see Aria. I’m going to flip a coin and see where it takes me.”

Easton shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s dangerous.”

“But you’re fine with me driving to Oregon? It’s the same trip with a few more turns along the way.”

“It’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” I was still going on a trip. Alone.

“Well, I love it,” Gemma declar

ed.

“Didn’t Grandma do that with her dad once?” Cash rubbed the beard he’d grown over the past month.

“Yes, she did.”

He hummed, his eyes darting to Easton and Gemma’s house. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Go for it.” Easton waved him inside.

Cash squeezed my shoulder as he walked past. “Don’t leave yet.”

“Okay.” I’d expected some sort of objection to this trip, but maybe he’d hug me goodbye and that would be the end of it. That was a good thing, right? If Cash wasn’t worrying about me, thinking about me, then I could go and attempt to not think about him.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Easton said.

“I think it’s great.” Gemma jabbed her elbow into his ribs, hissing, “Be supportive.”

Easton’s shoulders fell. “Drive careful.”

“I will.” I gave him one last hug, then did the same with Gemma.

Easton held the driver’s side door open as I slid behind the Cadillac’s smooth, white steering wheel.

The matching leather seat wrapped me in a buttery hug as I inched it forward so my feet would touch the pedals. The interior was impeccable and smelled like polish and pine—Easton’s doing, no doubt. When I turned the key, the engine purred. The moment the temperature was above seventy, I was lowering the convertible top and driving with the wind in my sable hair.

This Cadillac was a dream. Londyn had done the restoration right, maintaining the car’s classic appearance while enriching it with modern touches. It was hard to believe this was the same car that had been parked beside Gemma’s and my tent. The rust and wear were gone. The doors closed without squeaks. The windows were uncracked.

It was a masterpiece.

Easton pushed the door closed, shutting me inside.

I rolled down the window and let my palms rest on the wheel, excitement bubbling through my fingertips.

“I love this quarter flip,” Gemma said, crouching as low as she could next to the window. “I wish I could go with you.”

“Next time.” I smiled as Cash emerged through their front door. I did a double take as he jogged down the porch stairs.

Why was he carrying a backpack?