My feet move me a step closer, nearly closing the distance between us.
Humor still dances in her eyes when she meets my gaze.
She’s undisturbed by my nearness, but the problem is I don’t know if it’s desire or alcohol that keeps her from pushing me away. And that’s the bucket of ice water I need to get my urges under control.
When I don’t do or say anything - like an idiot - she glances at the vehicle I stopped us next to. “Is this you?”
I look over at the rusting minivan and raise a brow at Maddie. “Seriously?”
“What?” she looks back and forth between me and the atrocity, clearly not seeing the problem. “I don’t care if you drive a beater.”
“Icare if I drive a beater.” With a gentle push on her shoulder, I turn her to face the way we’d been heading before I stopped us.
Keeping my hold on her hand, I take us down a few more spots.
Digging my free hand into my pocket, I click the fob to unlock the doors to my vehicle, causing the headlights to flash.
“Ooo,” Maddie’s eyes widen. “She’s pretty!”
She starts to hurry, our arms extending between us, before I finally let go.
Stepping up to the hood, Maddie runs her pointer finger across the matte black finish. “I don’t know much about cars, but I can see why you made that face back there. This is nice.”
“Thank you.” With effort, I manage not to puff out my chest. “Cars are kinda my thing,” I say, parroting her words about coffee earlier.
She grins up at me, “It seems so.” Then her head tilts, “It would seem so?” She says it like a question and her brow furrows, and her cheeks go pink. “That sounds wrong, but you know what I mean.”
My own mouth pulls into a smile, “I know what you mean.”
Her shoulders sag, the smallest amount, in what looks like relief. Was she nervous I’d ridicule her?
Before my thoughts can go further, Maddie pulls her phone out of her tiny purse, “Mind if I send another picture to my friend?”
“Course not.”
She takes a step backward, presumably so she can get the license plate and the whole car in the picture, and I move behind her, ready to catch her if she stumbles.
Holding her camera up, it’s in selfie mode and she smiles when she sees me standing behind her.
“Smile, Big Guy.”
Captivated by her beautiful face reflected back in the screen, I don’t catch her words in time to comply before the screen clicks.
I step closer.
Did she just take a picture of us together? That should be weird, right? I certainly shouldn’t feel proud about that.
Maddie taps the button to turn the camera around and snaps a photo of my car, and I watch over her shoulder as she texts it to her friend.
“It really is a nice car,” she says the words quietly, and I’m not sure if she’s saying it to me or to herself. I almost launch into a spiel about the Charger, telling her why it’s my favorite of all my vehicles, but then she looks back up at me over her shoulder and asks, “So, you gonna give me a ride, or what?”
Suddenly, I don’t remember a single fact about cars.
A heartbeat later, she slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god! I didn’t…” Her eyes widen even further.
I can only manage a choked sound, because I want to laugh at her expression- but the idea ofgiving her a rideis now seared into my brain.
“I’m so sorry!” her palm muffles her words, but I still understand them.