I shiver.
“Does your dad still love this stuff?” she asks.
I shrug, sudden melancholy weighing me down in my seat. “He does, but it’s a lot harder for him to get out and about, and when he does, he fades fast. It’s just age, you know. Inevitable. I try to take him out as much as I can, but we can’t be as spontaneous and adventurous as when I was a kid.”
A gentle hand on my leg makes me jump, but when Shelley starts to withdraw, I reach down and catch her wrist then put her hand back on my thigh. It’s warm and solid and so ridiculously comforting.
“I like it when you touch me,” I rasp.
“Do you?” Shelley sounds shy. Unsure. See, this is what I get for running away from her earlier like an idiot.
“Definitely,” I say firmly. “Please, never doubt that. Every moment I spend with you is a gift.”
There’s a shaky exhale, then her touch firms on my leg, her warmth seeping through my suit pants.
“This experiment is going well already,” she says.
My shoulders loosen. “Good.”
We wind further and further along dusty back roads, away from the built up city behind us, out into the wilds. The occasional dwellings we pass get sparser and stranger, goingfrom sturdy brick buildings to tumbledown shacks. Clouds are still thick overhead, broody and gray, but the rain’s holding off out here. For now.
“Do you ever chase storms?” Shelley asks as we pull off onto an even narrower, bumpier road. The truck rocks back and forth, throwing us around the cab, and Shelley lets go of my leg to hold on to her seat for balance. Too bad. Outside the truck, the trees have turned to spiky bushes and cacti, and the flat ground has turned to rock.
“Sometimes.”
“Do you ever get close?”
Shelley squeaks as a dip in the road bounces her in her seat. I hide a smile, wrenching the steering wheel to guide us to a smoother patch of road.
“Sometimes.”
“Can I come with you one day?”
This time I don’t hide my grin. “Sure.”
Shelley can come with me every damn day if she likes. Anywhere I go, I want her there.
“This will do.” Guiding the truck off the path, I park up between a big, dusty boulder and a prickly pear cactus. All around us are wide-open cloudy skies and empty wastes. “I come here sometimes when the conditions are right for dust devils. They’re not right today, obviously, but you wanted private… this was the first place that came to mind. There are no folks around here for miles. Just critters.”
Shelley nods, chewing on her lip as she stares out the windshield. Her eyes are unfocused, hazy, like she’s not really taking in the view. Like she’s lost in her own world, thinking.
When the sun peeks suddenly between a gap in the clouds, the sudden wash of sunshine glints gold in Shelley’s red hair. My gut tightens, and I wait with my belt unclipped, suddenly unsure what to do with my limbs.
“So,” I say at last, jolting Shelley out of her fog. She swings around to blink at me with those big, green eyes. “What’s the theory? And what’s the experiment you’re running?”
“Oh.” Shelley wets her pink lips, suddenly nervous. Like she’s surprised I asked, despite all the build up. “Well. Um.”
“I’m a man of science,” I remind her gently when she trails off, flushing. “Like you said. So I’m interested to hear it.”
Shelley clears her throat and unclips her seat belt. “Whew. Okay.”
And one minute I’m sitting wooden in the driver’s seat, awkward but eager to hear what she has to say; the next, I’m shoving my seat back as Shelley climbs directly into my lap. She straddles me, chest to chest. Face to face.
“Christ,” I mutter, hands smoothing up Shelley’s thighs to grip her hips. She’s wearing black pants, the fabric soft and thin. “I’m not—I didn’t—”
“Is this okay?” Shelley interrupts, placing her hands on my shoulders and shaking me gently.
“Yes.”
