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“What? Where?”
He juts his hand out impatiently. “Just come with me, Adelina.”
Instincts have me placing my hand in his and allowing him to help me put on clothes. Once he’s grabbed both of our effects, he wraps a blanket around me and leads me quietly back downstairs, where he grabs the container with my apple pie cookies. Then, he turns toward the front door.
“You want me to go outside?” I ask, surprised I didn’t figure it out when he threw the blanket over my shoulders. My eyes flit toward Todd who is snoring loudly in his recliner. Doesn’t look like he heard anything, thank goodness.
He continues toward the front door, sparing me a quick glance over his shoulder. “It’s fifteen feet to a car I’ve already autostarted, meaning it’s warm.”
“But—” I start but stop when he levels me with a look I haven’t seen since senior year of high school when Mom asked if I had a date for Homecoming.
“Fine,” I groan, bracing both myself and the thick fabric around me before shoving into the night when he opens the door.
Outside, the wind is quiet, but freezing, seeping inside everything, covering me in seconds and soaking into my bones. I shiver the entire fifteen feet, my teeth clattering comically the entire way. Elliot’s long strides put him in front of me despite my speed walk, and he opens the passenger door so I can climb inside.
The moment I’m in the seat, I’m assaulted with Elliot’s clean, earthy scent, the warm air eviscerating the outside as soon as he shuts the door.
My pulse thrums in my neck as I watch him stride around the hood and enter the driver’s side. As long as Elliot and I lived under the same roof, we never rode together. Being seniors with our own cars, there wasn’t ever a reason to. Now, I’m almost grateful I didn’t have to endure it, because the temptation would have been that much worse.
The space is dark, almost intimate, courtesy of the all-black interior, and his relaxed posture with only one hand on the wheel and the other lax over the gear shift is enough to send a shiver through me.
As though he can read my thoughts, he spares me a quick glance before smirking and putting the car in drive.
We ride in silence for a few miles, and even avoiding looking over at him, my libido takes in every minute detail. The slow pace of the car, the twitch in his pinky, the three times he readjusts in his seat. Every time, my heart trips, images of him touching me invading my mind. It isn’t until we turn onto the main street leading to the back of the neighborhood that I look directly at him.
“There’s nothing this way. Just Old Hook’s Cliff.” I point out, shifting in my seat to look in the rearview.
He nods once. “I know.”
My brows pull together. “I can’t be outside again, Elliot. So if you’re taking there to throw me off or something—”
The sound of his low chuckle sucks the air from the cabin of the car. It’s such a rare and smooth sound, flowing over me and settling into the deepest corners of my soul. “I’m taking you to my house.”
Confusion steals my features. “There are no houses up there. Never have been. I don’t even think the land is for sale.”
He grins, a cockiness to it that’s hotter than it should be. “It wasn’t, and there didn’t used to be.”
My lips part to ask more questions, but when he turns into a small strip of road, whatever question I had is answered.
Only a few meters past where the trees split, a large two-story house comes into view. Its all-black front is made entirely of slates of dark wood and iron. The only reason it’s distinguishable in front of the midnight sky and haunted woods behind it is because of the lights positioned along the roof and driveway perfectly. It’s breathtaking.
“This is yours? Why did no one ever mention this?”
He nods, pulling into the circle drive that runs in front of the stoned entrance. “It is. And because I asked them not too.”
“It’s massive. Don’t you ever feel alone?”
Elliots put the car in park and shrugs. “A large section belongs to my shop, plus my own collection of cars in the garage. There are only four rooms. One is mine, another a guest room, and the others are offices.”
“Why two offices?”
He smirks, but there’s another emotion playing in his eyes. Something else causing him to drag his lip through his teeth. If I didn’t know any better from his lack of emotional display, I’d say he was nervous. “I’ll show you, but first, there’s something else I need you to see.”
Without another word, he exits the car, comes around, and opens my door with a hand extended. Again, I place my hand in his and hoist myself out, following him to the garage. I shiver as he unlocks it with his thumbprint on a keypad and waits the first few seconds for it to lift before he guides me inside.
The garage is massive and, like Elliot says, likely takes up a third of the bottom level of his house. The floor is slate gray, not an oil or grease stain in sight, and is home to eight cars, one of which draws my eyes almost immediately. It’s the sixty-seven Impala he drove in high school, and laying eyes on it again—even for a moment—has something sticky melting over my chest. It’s bittersweet seeing it again.
Still, my feet lead me toward the car, which has been shined to a beautiful mirror-like quality. My fingers reach out, trailing along the hood in a whisper of a touch, memories I thought were long forgotten springing to the forefront of my mind. I don’t intend to grab the handle, but when my fingers curl around the sleek metal, Elliot’s hand closes over my wrist.
