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“Excuse me?”
“You start off all nice and sweet, but then…” He gestures with his hands. “There’s a lot of shouting in other languages. Not only Spanish. I’ve heard French, Romanian… I swear you spoke Arabic once.”
My cheeks heat and I purse my lips. “It was one time. A few words I learned from Tara in school. I can’t even remember them anymore.”
He snorts. “Yeah, well… can you blame me for being hesitant?”
“Come on, don’t be a baby,” I taunt him. “I’ll teach you.”
“Alright. But if this leads to tears, I want it known that I was hesitant.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t cry.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.” He cocks an eyebrow.
I circle around to the passenger side while he climbs into the driver’s seat. It’s a big truck; my feet almost dangle off the floor. I give Ethan a short rundown of what to do, how to slowly release the clutch while pressing the gas.
He stares at the gear shift. “So I have to press the clutch, release, then move the gear shift?”
There’s a little crinkle between his eyes that I half want to kiss, half want to rub away. “Not quite. You have to press the clutch, move the gear shift, then slowly, slowly release.”
Ethan blows out a breath. “I think I need to try it.”
He starts the pickup, gets it into first gear…
Stalls immediately.
“What’d I do?” he asks, running his hands through his hair.
“You released the clutch too fast. Try it again.”
Ethan restarts the engine, moves the stick shift into first gear, releases the clutch and…
Stalls.
“Argh,” he grumbles, uttering a few more choice words.
I sigh, shaking my head. Ethan is your trademark “learn by doing” kind of person; it’s one of the qualities that’ll make him ace culinary school. His muscle memory is something else, and once he knows how to do something, it’s incredible how perfectly he can duplicate that action.
“Okay…” I say. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” My cheeks are warm as I undo my seatbelt and come around the truck. Open the driver’s door. “I’m going to show you how to do it. Just mirror my movements.”
I kick off my flip-flops, climb into the seat with him, and sit squarely on his lap. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised or affected by how close we are right now; he only adjusts me so I’m comfortable on his thighs.
I try my best not to notice the way his warm, cozy smell makes me want to curl up against his chest and take a nap. I clear my throat and straighten up, a little lightheaded by the feeling of his body against mine.
Ethan places his arms around me loosely, all business.
“So what do I do?” he asks. His breath on the back of my neck sends shivers across my skin.
I remind myself to stay focused. My spine is ramrod straight as I firmly grasp his hands and put one on the steering wheel, the other on the key. “Let’s start the car.”
I press my feet into his so he’s pushing down on both the clutch and the brake. Then, we start the engine.
“Good,” I say. “Now, let’s shift into first gear.”
