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“You should be punished.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She giggled.
His gaze raked over her face, only this time it was different. Sure, there was lust there, burning bright like the sun. But something else flickered in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Her heart thudded in her ears. Was it possible that this trip had left more than one thing tattooed on his heart?
28
Link
Link stretched his legs out in the passenger seat, yawning. Glancing at the clock, he grabbed his water bottle and took a sip. He’d been out for two hours. His gaze flicked to the reason he’d needed said nap. Emma’s small hands gripped the large steering wheel as she drove them along the highway in whatever part of Nebraska they were in now. A few stray blond, pink, and blue hairs blew against the side of her cheek. He couldn’t resist tucking them behind her ear.
“Have a good nap?” She sent a warm smile his way, her eyes lighting up mischievously.
“Yeah. Maybe you can pull off at the next rest stop and I can drive?”
“No way. I finally got my chance behind the wheel of this Chevelle. You’re gonna have to sit back and enjoy the ride.” She shook her head.
“What if I have to pee?”
She motioned to his water bottle. “You got everything you need in here.”
He chuckled. “What if I’m shy?”
She arched one of her eyebrows, shooting him a look that told him she wasn’t falling for that. “Really? That’s what you go with? You’re gonna pretend your cock wasn’t eight inches deep in my throat last night?” She lifted her hand to her jaw, rubbing it. “I’m kinda sore from just how not shy you were.”
He stretched out his arm, laying his hand on the back of her neck and massaging while stroking behind her ear with his thumb.
“Mmmm.”
“If I remember correctly, my mouth was pretty engaged too. You don’t hear me complaining about a pulled tongue muscle,” he joked.
She rolled her eyes. “How did this get turned on me? You were the one who said you were shy, and I was just pointing out it was bullshit.”
Laughter erupted from his gut, spinning up in his chest and pouring from him until he couldn’t breathe. Emma’s light giggling followed his. When was the last time he’d laughed this hard?
After he’d caught his breath, he took another sip of his water before returning the bottle to the cup holder. Emma cleared her throat, a nervous tic. “What are your plans with the shop?”
He sighed, turning his focus to the sloping countryside whipping by. “Just keep doing what we’re doing, I guess. Although, I might try to take on some more custom work and hire an actual secretary since Dad isn’t here to do that part anymore.”
A moment of silence passed between them before Emma spoke. “You know Geo is gone for a while. We could use a guitarist and singer.”
A heavy anvil crashed onto his chest; his breathing stilled. His shoulder muscles bunched and tensed, rising to his ears as he kept his gaze locked out the window. What was she trying to ask him? “What exactly happened with him? How did he end up in prison?” He changed the subject.
Emma sighed, turning the blinker on and switching lanes. “He got drunk, and there was one paparazzo in particular who liked to hound us, but especially Geo. Got in his face I guess—it was an accident. And now the pap is dead, and Geo is in prison.”
“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “If you guys are having that kind of trouble, and after what happened with us at the karaoke bar, you should have bodyguards or security—something.”
She scoffed. “I don’t think we need to go to that extreme yet. We got out of there just fine. And the worst that would happen is I’d have to sign a bunch of autographs and snap selfies.”
Was she really that naive? She could have been crushed. Or what if someone grabbed her and assaulted her? His hackles rose.
“Why didn’t you ever pursue music?” she asked.
So, she wasn’t going to drop it. “It was just fun. Kids messing around.”
She shook her head, and he caught the tilt of it in his direction from the corner of his eye. “No, you’re good, Link. Amazing. Your voice, and your ability on the guitar. Seriously, you could make it.”
He clenched his jaw. Yeah, he’d wanted that at one time. But then he’d seen his father struggle, popping painkillers for his arthritis and wincing with every step. He’d come alive when he’d worked on this very SS Chevelle. Restoring classics was his true calling. “Dad needed the help at the shop. His arthritis was getting worse, and you were off doing tours.”
