Taking advantage of our proximity, Travis possesses my mouth again, the urgency in his hot lips and tongue growing with every taste of the forbidden. Flashing an ear-to-ear smile, he stands back up, closes my door, and jogs to the driver’s side.
My panties feel damp, and there’s a throb in the same location. I let out a frustrated sigh, realizing how close I am to surrendering everything to him. The more we touch, kiss, and explore each other, the more convinced I become that this is meant to be. Nothing has ever felt so right in my entire life, and I don’t know how or why I fought it for so long.
Once inside and seated, he turns the key in the ignition, and the engine fires to life, a massive, purring giant. I can feel the vehicle’s body moving with the engine’s power, and he presses his foot on the gas a few times, showcasing the dramatic torque.
“You like the sound of that LS6 454?” he questions in a rich, dark tone.
I can’t help but nod. Echoing what he’s said at least a thousand times, I add, “The largest displacement block engine ever bolted into a Chevy passenger car.”
“Yes, ma’am. Tell me what else you know about her.”
I laugh. “You realize, this is akin to brainwashing, right? And it’s not going to work.”
“Mama, you know I love it when you talk cars.”
Every time he calls me “mama,” it makes me blush. But it’s got a vintage charm to it that I love. “Alright, then. Let’s talk cars. Nineteen seventy was a pinnacle year for big-block Chevelles. Heck, it’s considered by many to be a pinnacle year among all muscle cars. Cougars, aside.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
I rack my brain. “What else? They’re highly valued, highly sought after, and fairly rare. Although nothing beats the 1969 Boss 429 Cougar for rarity.” Mic drop. There’s only one left in the world, and he knows it.
“Didn’t you promise you’d never talk like this around Calamity? You better watch out or you’ll break her heart.” Flooring the gas, a deafening roar fills the car. With a wicked smile, Travis shifts into gear, and Calamity flies.
We tear down Hollister’s Main Street to the cheering of local townsfolk. Well, some cheer while others shake their fists or canes in the air, cursing the noise pollution.
Travis doesn’t notice or care.
A couple of older women from church point me out in the car with overdramatic gestures and gasps, and I reflexively put my right hand up, trying to cover my face. I can already hear the vitriol they’ll heap into my pew on Sunday.
But then I catch myself. Instead of hiding behind my hand, I wave at them as we roar past.
We race down four eighty-eight, and he turns up the local country station, rocking out to the end of a Bocephus tune. He grabs my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine and grinning while side-eyeing me. “Did I really just see you wave at those church ladies?”
“Yes, you did, Travis.”
“I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, but I like it.”
I shrug. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I’m quite honestly tired of trying to fit the good girl mold.Or any mold for that matter. It’s hard enough being me without trying to please everyone else.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to relax and be yourself, Faith. If part of that includes having me in your life. Well, you know I’m ready for that, too.”
My voice cracks as I say, “I’ve missed you, Trav. I got so used to seeing you all the time that I started taking you—and us—for granted. I’m sorry. I never should have done that.”
“You’re already forgiven,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “I missed you, too, Faith. I didn’t realize how much my life has come to revolve around you until we stopped seeing each other.”
Tendrils of desire flame through my veins, entangling my thoughts with images of kissing at the feed store. My heart pounds out of my chest as the world races by, and he belts out the lyrics to a Zac Brown Band song in grumbly, masculine tones.
Suddenly, he turns down the radio. “We’ve spent more than a year hanging out. But we’ve never been on an official date. Is that what we’re calling this?”
I giggle, squeezing his hand. “Well, I don’t want to rush into anything. But I think after three hundred and sixty-five days of being buddies, we can safely call this a date.”
“Thank God,” he says on an exhale. “That begs the question. What should we do?”
I pause, taking in his handsome profile for a long moment. He’s always more gorgeous in person. Neither my memory nor my imagination can do him justice. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“A movie? Dinner? Drive to Mount Shasta? I’m down for whatever.”
“Hmm. Well, in that case, I want to do something fun with you, Trav. Something a little wild and crazy. You know, what you said the other day. Howl at the moon or something.”
