Playfully leaving the mirror down an extra second, he winked in the reflection before flicking it up. “Hey, you’ve seen me naked, it’s only fair.”
“Ha. All you’d get to see are flailing legs and maybe a glimpse of my very practical panties.”
Eyes on the road, he snorted a laugh. “Why would your legs flail? What do you plan on doing back there?”
Flashing him a glare he wouldn’t see, she forcefully unzipped the suitcase and went for her new favorite denim skirt, thus reducing the chance of flashing. She tugged the skirt on over her slacks and slid the unsexy cream slacks out from under the skirt. The sweater was actually a favorite, a light knit and soft for the long drive, so she kept it. Ditching the ballet flats, she switched for her knee-high boots.
Shuffling forward, she set both hands on the center console. Shit. The climb back over was going to be neither graceful, nor flattering. “Would it be dangerous to ask you to close your eyes while I get back into my seat?”
He flicked the mirror back down. “You got yourself into this mess.”
“Hey. I’ve covered for enough of your messes.”
“Yeah? Think I never covered for you?”
“Okay, so maybe—“
“Finn’s house, this late at night? No, she’s over at Pippa’s…” he said, lifting to a half grin as he teased her via reflection. “The cookies are all gone? That was me, I got hungry last night—“
“Okay, I get it,” she said, moving forward and wedging herself between the front seats. Snug with her shoulders not quite stuck, she growled, “The whiskey is missing? I wanted to try it, I’m sorry.”
Knees on the center console, she climbed further, knowing the flashing was imminent.
“Give up? We could go all night with this, and I’ll win.” She egged him on so she didn’t think about the fact that he was about to see the granny panties she wore so they didn’t show through her work slacks.
Voice a little hoarse this time, his body shifted over so she had more room, Cole gripped the wheel. “The sparkly silver thong with the clever straps on the laundry room floor? Totally mine,” he said.
Her mouth gaped open and she gave up on grace and flopped into the seat.
His wicked, cheek-biting grin was aimed right at her.
“Wait, what?”
“I’mstillcovering for you, apparently. That was this morning,“ he said, quickly shifting his gaze back to the road. “I ran into Ellen in the laundry room, and she was holding up your new panties, and I didn’t know her eyes could open so wide. I was worried she was going to have a heart attack. With all her worrying over you losing control and having a wild and reckless affair with a not-nice boy, I had to. So I blushed and stammered like they were mine and stuffed them in my pocket.” Already laughing, he reached into his pocket and dangled her risqué thong from the tip of his fingers, glimmering a glance at her that was hotter than the microscopic panties.
She quickly stuffed them in her own pocket. “What did she say?”
“Nothing. Not a word. But I felt the disappointment burning in her lowered eyebrows.”
“Ugh. I’m sorry. I know she thinks I’m either a late bloomer on the rebellious phase or early on the midlife crisis, and I’m one knee-trembler away from losing my sweetness. For your sake, however, she also doesn’t need to think you’re fucking some woman with wicked appetites. Seriously, you should just fess up that they’re mine.”
“Are you kidding? If I admitted that I could identify your panties, it would be so much worse than if I happened to have someone else’s panties, and I honestly panicked and it was obvious that I recognized them. Either way, she should get used to the fact that tighty whities and granny panties don’t turn either of us on.”
Trace’s stomach rolled as she pictured her mother’s face. Supportive, yes, her parents always had her back. But some people didn’t do change, and Trace knew she came by sticking to her comfort zone naturally.
Skimpy panties. Miniskirts. Flirting with Cole, who they protected as fiercely as they did her. They knew she was raging to break out of her comfort zone and be the person she had repressed for so long.
Maybe she should cool things down with him, stop flirting, stop wishing she had the guts to kiss him, to let him see those panties while she had them on. Too much all at once, it was probably stupid to even consider a thing with him, while she was still working on her and he was still working on him.
“And if she figures out that they’re my panties, and you claimed they were yours?”
“Then we hope to hell they are okay with it.” He gripped the wheel tighter, his brow low. “I can’t hurt them.”
Watersprayedhigharoundthe tires as he drove through another freeway puddle. Rain pounded the car from every angle, the road, flooding incessantly until the air hazed with moisture. Sunset was a few hours away, but the clouds were so engorged, it may as well be midnight. Cole gripped the wheel tightly. Even this car could hydroplane in the lakes pooling on the road.
Trace had gone quiet in her seat, tapping her thumb on her lips and looking pretty much everywhere but at him.
He’d blown it. Too many attempts at kissing her, flirting and talking about blowjobs and panties and thinking about her naked.
