Was this really it? Would he never see her again?
About an hour out of the park, the silence between them became too much to bear. He reached and pressed the button to turn off the radio. Ophelia gave him a puzzled look.
“So . . .” he said.
“So?”
“Umm.” He stumbled. Fuck. How was he going to bring this up? Just say it. “What happens now?”
She leaned toward the dash and studied the GPS. “We stay on the highway for another twenty miles then—”
“No.” He chuckled. “Not that. I mean what happens when we get back?”
“Oh.” She folded her hands
in her lap and stared down at them. “I guess I’ll drop you off at home and . . .”
It felt like he was holding his breath for an answer. But why? He knew what had to be done. They had to cut ties. To do differently would be stupid—for both of them. He’d only bring her trouble. He almost laughed, thinking about escorting her to fancy parties. A guy with a Mohawk and tattoos, who stole cars for a living, had no business being with an heiress.
He didn’t want to ruin her life, as much as he wanted to be in her life. It would be selfish to think otherwise.
But still, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping she wouldn’t want to just . . . disappear.
“I guess that’ll be it,” she said softly.
He spared a glance at her, wanting to see her expression, to know if she was as upset about it as he was. If she didn’t care, would it make it easier or would it hurt more?
She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “This was a fling. We knew that.”
Knife to the chest.
“Right,” he said, eyes back on the road. “We knew that.”
***
The SUV’s stereo system played some easy-listening pop crap, just loud enough for them to hear clearly over the crackle of the fire. Ophelia danced just at the edge of the firelight, drunk on pre-mixed margaritas they’d picked up at the grocery store. Luke watched her, sipping his beer, trying to think of any woman who compared to her. Even drunk she was sexy and adorable, and she could dance, her sense of balance not suffering in the slightest. As for himself, his legs and face were numb. Too bad the booze wasn’t working on his feelings. They’d be home tomorrow, and tomorrow was far too soon.
When the song finished, she came back, falling beside him on the blanket and looking up at him with eyes that shone with more than the reflection of firelight.
“I love that song so much.”
“I wasn’t really listening to the song.”
“No?”
“No, I was busy watching a beautiful woman dance for me.”
“Who, me? Or did a beautiful bigfoot come out of the woods to do a striptease?”
“You.”
“And I was dancing for you, was I?”
“Yes. You knew it would please me.”
She laughed, and the lovely sound of it filled parts of him he hadn’t realized were empty.
Shit. He was a goner.