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With a quiet ‘thank you’, she slips into it. When she struggles to free her hair from the back of the neckline, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I’m tempted to help her. But if I touch her hair right now, I might just completely lose my marbles and kiss her.
Geez—how am I any better than the creepy tow truck driver?
The truth is that, sitting here watching her wearing my sweatshirt has suddenly made her ten times more irresistible to me. But she’s not mine anymore. So resisting her is the only option I’ve got.
Carefully, I maneuver us back onto the road. I’m relieved when the first responders on the scene give us the go ahead to safely drive around the debris.
As I drive, I can’t help but notice that Alana keeps staring down at the sweatshirt, delicately running her fingertips over the soft beige fabric that’s swallowing her up and making her look tiny.
“You okay?” I ask after a few minutes of this.
She turns, her eyes locking onto mine. “I bought you this sweatshirt…”
I blink, my attention shifting to the garment.Again, shit.
Embarrassment rises into my throat, but I try to act unfazed.
I return my focus to the road. “You did?” I pretend to be ignorant, when in reality I remember it all. She got it for my birthday. She even put it in one of those glittery gift bags and everything.
Now it seems silly that I kept it. I’ve always stashed it in my car for those days when I leave the house without a jacket. I’m not sure why, but it just seems embarrassing now.
Alana looks lost in thought as she trails her fingertips over the soft, worn fabric again. “Yeah, I gave it to you for your birthday, the same year I got you that watch you always wanted.” She smiles softly, staring distantly at the way the too-long sleeves cover her wrists. “I said I bought you that sweatshirt because it…” Her words trail off.
You said you bought me that sweatshirt because it made me look like a big muscly teddy bear, and that it made you want to climb into my lap and lick every inch of my skin.
I shouldn’t still remember that conversation word for word. And I shouldn’t have kept the damn sweater. And it sure as hell shouldn’t be lying around in the back seat of my car like a talisman of my failed marriage.
Fuck. This is going to be a long drive.
8
ALANA
Itiptoe around the bathroom stall, doing a funky dance I’m glad no one can see as I try to change out of my stiff, wet jeans.
Davis pulled over at the first diner we came across, suggesting that we stop for a change of clothes and a bite to eat.
I’m finding it hard to yank my dry, cozy leggings up my thighs with the way my hands are shaking. Ironically, the shivering has very little to do with getting drenched in the rain on the side of a highway and more to do with the fact that I’ve been trapped in a car alone with my ex-husband.
It’s pure torture.
I manage to pull on my leggings without allowing my bare feet to touch the sticky tile floor. I would be damn proud of myself for the accomplishment if I wasn’t so stressed about my current circumstances.
Davis’s familiar scent filling my head, his broad chest steadily rising and falling in the seat next to me, those strong hands clasping the steering wheel. All of it is bringing back all these sweet memories of the way we used to be. Being this close to him…it wreaks havoc on my senses…it blurs the line between the past and now.
* * *
“Is this seat taken?”
The unfamiliar voice makes my tummy clench and my head bolts up from where I’ve been scribbling speedily across my assignment sheet, hurriedly finishing up my English homework before class.
When my gaze connects with piercing silvery-gray irises, my breath hitches and I make an embarrassing gasping sound.
I awkwardly clear my throat. “Uh, no. It’s not taken.”
The boy gives me a smile and deep dimples puncture his smooth, blush-stained cheeks. My tummy clenches tighter, and now I’m blushing, too.
“Thanks.” He drops his backpack to the grubby classroom floor and regally lowers into the desk in front of me.
