Cooper: Lucy, this is not a prank. I’m taking you on a late-night adventure.
Lucy: But it’s like 10:00!
Cooper: No excuses. Let’s go.
I keep my truck lights off, and I’m parked a few houses down from Lucy’s. It’s odd how much this makes me feel sixteen again, trying to sneak her out of her house without her parents finding out. Except, she is the parent this time, and we’re playing a game of Get Past the Brother—which honestly feels riskier, because I really like Drew a lot. I don’t get the same thrill I used to get from sneaking around, because Drew has been a great friend, and whether he knows it or not, he helped me out of a really gloomy time in my life.
But then I see Lucy slip out the door and completely forget everything I just felt. This is absolutely thrilling.
She looks side to side and folds her arms tightly around her, clearly worried I’m going to pop out of a bush. I flash my lights twice, and even from this far away, I can see her beaming smile. She looks back toward the darkened house then hurries down the path toward my truck. The interior glows in warm light when she opens the door, making her soft features look like velvet.
“Hi,” she says, sliding up into the leather seat.
“Hi.”
Her eyes scan around the cab and then up to me. “This is your truck?”
I’m not sure what that inflection is supposed to mean. “Yes?”
I’ve always been proud of this vehicle. It’s my dad’s old 1972 Ford F250, but it’s fully restored, painted in a matte, light-hunter green with blacked-out rims and baseball leather interior. This truck turned me into that guy who, when asked if he has any children, pulls out a picture of what he drives. That is, until two seconds ago when Lucy added a strange inflection and made me want to park it in my garage, cover it with a sheet, and pretend I’ve never heard of it.
She chuckles. “Sorry. I think I emphasized the wrong word. I just meant I’ve already ridden in this truck before, but I didn’t realize it was yours.”
“Oh,” I say, letting out a breath of relief that I don’t have to disown my favorite possession now. “Yeah, when Drew helped you move home, right?”
“Yep.” She gives a private smile, and I want to know what it means more than anything, but she keeps it to herself. “I like it.” Her fingers go to the glove box where she unashamedly opens it, takes a peek, and closes it again. And now she’s dropping down the visor and flicking it back up. She plucks the change from my cup holder, counts it, and drops it back in. I’m mesmerized. How long will she go on like this if I let her?
“Lucy…” I say on a chuckle, and she whips her head up, tosses her hands in the air, and lets them fall dramatically against her lap.
“I know, okay?! But I’m a ball of nerves. Why am I in here? What are we doing?”
Earlier tonight, I called this woman cute and she looked like she was going to break down in tears. Then, when she admitted she felt boxed in and set aside, I couldn’t take it. I might not be able to do anything about making her feel anything more than cute without having her brother remove any dangly parts of my body, but I can do something about her needing excitement.
My grin slants. “We’re doing something dangerous tonight.”
Her smile drops, and her eyes do that wide owl thing that is uniquely Lucy. It’s adorable, but I don’t dare tell her because I know she’ll take it like I’m saying You should start wearing oversized bows in your hair rather than You’re so adorable I want to kiss every inch of your skin.
“Dangerous?” Her voice quivers a little.
“Yep.” I hold out my hand for a low five. “You in?”
She bites her lips together and looks down at my hand. “I’m in.” And then, because she’s Lucy, she takes my hand and wiggles it.
“No, no, no. Are you insane? I’m a mom, Cooper—I can’t freaking go to jail.”
I grin and cut the engine to my truck. “You’re not going to go to jail.”
Even in the dark, I can tell her eyes are wide. “TRESPASSING IS A CRIME!”
“Shhhh,” I say, chuckling and covering her mouth with my hand. Now all I can see are her big blue eyes sparkling. “It’s going to be fine. I know the owner.”
She pulls my hand away from her mouth but, as I notice with great pleasure, doesn’t let go of it. “Then why don’t you use that handy little device there called a cell phone to call the owner and ask him or her for permission first?”
I run my thumb across hers. “Because what fun would that be? I thought you wanted to do something dangerous.”
She growls a little. “I was thinking something more along the lines of trying to eat a whole gallon of ice cream in one night and not throw up.”
“Wild woman.”