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“Okay, your teeth are chattering now. I’d take off this wet T-shirt and give it to you, but I don’t think it would help.”
“Oh, it would definitely help.”
He pulls me back to his chest again. Into that little nook below his chin where I fit just perfectly. Like he was made for me. And he runs his hands down my arm. Faster this time. “What do you say we make a run for the car?”
The friction brings enough heat to make me admit that I’m freezing. Part of me wants to suck it up. To stay in this perfect romantic bubble where there’s no ticking clock. The other part is very aware that Dax’s T-shirt is no longer leaving anything to the imagination. And the faster we get out of here, the faster we can get out of these wet clothes.
“You grab the basket. I’ll hold the cheese.”
Dax dumps all of our drenched picnic gear back into the basket, then reaches for my hand.
“We go on three?”
I nod, eyeing the rain still pouring down in sheets.
“One.” Dax squeezes my hand. “Two.” He weaves our fingers together. “Three.”
We race straight through the grass to the parking lot. By the time we reach the car, I’m so drenched that it pains me to get inside.
Dax’s Toyota may be getting on in years, but it’s meticulously clean. He holds the door open with a pace and ease that ignores the rain teeming around us. I ease my way in, trying hard to touch as little of the seat as possible as Dax runs around to the driver’s side and climbs in beside me.
“I’m sorry, I’m squishy and wet.” There’s a literal pool of water at my feet.
He reaches over and brushes a stray strand of hair from my forehead. “I’m sorry our night went to shit.”
“Picnic may have gone a little south, but the night is savable. I’m still having a lot of fun.”
“Me too.” Dax leans across the center console, and I’m treated to another chaste kiss.Oh, dear lord.If these sweet little pecks are driving me this wild, I’m going to be in trouble later on.
Reaching into his jeans, he pulls out his keys and inserts them into the ignition, but when he turns, all that happens is the dreadedrun-na-nun-ahsound.
He tries a second time, then a third, and when still nothing happens, he coaxes the engine with a “Come on, baby,” gently rubbing the leather dash.
For a moment, I’m convinced it’s going to work. If Dax rubbedme like that and whispered those sweet words, I’d be turned on in an instant. But nothing happens.
“Shit.” He leans his head against the leather steering wheel, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I always thought Toyota Avalons were immortal, but I guess everything has its breaking point.”
Dax doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. And I swear I hear him whisper, “This is the last thing I need right now.”
I reach up and squeeze his shoulder. It’s the same comforting gesture he gave to me the night of the grocery store rescue.
Dax rolls his head toward me, his temple still on the wheel. He reaches across the console, grabs my hand, and laces our fingers together.
“Any chance you have CAA?” I ask.
Dax lets out a long sigh. “I did until about a month ago when I let it lapse.” He lifts his head and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a phone. “I’ll text Dougie. He’s got a guy who hopefully won’t hose me.”
Ten minutes and two phone calls later, we have a tow on its way to get us.
“Sorry again, Gemma, I really—”
“Hey.” I hold a finger playfully up to his lips. “Enough apologizing already. You can’t control the weather or when your car will die. And if you could, I would have a much bigger problem I would need your help to tackle. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I was having fun. And I still am. I like hanging out with you.”
Dax brings his hand to my cheek, then brings his forehead to mine, so they’re touching. “Where on your list is making out in a car?”
I debate how honest I should be here. “Somewhere north of fifty, as cars were like eighty percent of my high schoolmake-out experience. But I am still very much up for it if you’re offering.”
