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Lia’s jaw drops before she clasps her hands together. “Oh, Jake. You finally got the truck.”
Like a sap, I fucking beam when she runs a slim hand almost reverently over the gleaming, candy-apple-red fender of the 1948 Ford pickup. She puts her head through the open window and smiles as she glances around.
She continues her perusal around to the other side of the truck. “I can’t believe you actually found one like you wanted.”
“My dad bought it for us to work on. But he got sick and never got to work on it.”
Her eyes soften as she looks over the hood at me. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
With a sigh, I look down and push away the memory of the last time my dad and I had a conversation about the truck. “It’s fine. I was able to finish it to my liking.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. “So what do you think of Santa having a truck instead of a sleigh?”
She stops and looks over the hood at me. “Are you serious? This would be amazing!”
“Yeah, I’m serious. I’m sure the mayor—I mean, Santa—won’t mind riding around in it.”
She rounds the hood and leans against the driver’s side fender. Arms folded over her middle, she tilts her head, a pensive look on her delicate features. “You finally started restoring cars?”
“Yeah, it’s what I always wanted to do.”
“I remember.”
She holds my gaze until I break the stare.
Lia’s quiet for a moment then glances over her shoulder. “Well, you did a beautiful job. The white leather interior with red piping is perfect.” She pauses and looks back at me. “But I can’t use it. It’s too special.”
I shrug. “It’s just gathering dust out here in the garage. I try to take it out and drive it once in a while, but I’ve been busy lately. Haven’t had time for a joy ride.”
She rolls her teeth over her bottom lip and looks over the truck again. “It really is perfect for the ideas I have.”
“I know.”
Her eyes meet mine. “And you’re sure about this?”
“Absolutely. I’ll check it over in the next few days and make sure everything is in top working condition. Then we can move it out front of the store once we get everything in place. Then use it in the parade. Whattaya think?”
A smile, one that isn’t forced or practiced, lights up her face.
God, she’s beautiful.
“It’s perfect.”
Before I can think of the consequences, I close the short distance between us. Her smile falters and she leans farther back on the fender.
I reach out and trace her jaw line, her skin soft and warm beneath my finger. She shivers under my touch.
Lia Gray can say what she wants, but she isn’t immune to me either.
When I come to her chin, I lift it up so that she can’t help but look at me.
Those blue depths are full of doubt and uncertainty.
“What are you doing, Jake?” she asks, her voice a soft whisper.
Probably fucking up this tenuous truce we’ve agreed on.
“I’ve wanted to touch your skin all day.”
