I smile down at the ground as we walk. I could get used to this. I give him a squeeze back and rest my head against him as we walk.
Hank stops as a crowd begins to form around a juggler on stilts. He doesn’t let go of me but moves to stand behind me, wrapping his arms over mine, with his forearms just below my chin.
“Timber Forge feels different than it used to,” I say.
“Good or bad?” he says just below my ear. It sends a shower of goosebumps over my skin and a shot of heat to my core.
I let my eyes fall closed, sinking back against him, despite the juggler in front of us.
“Good, I think.” I nod, and he tightens his grip on me. I can feel the beat of his heart on my shoulder blade. It’s strong and steady, just like him. “California seems a world away on a night like this,” I whisper.
I feel him nod and then press a kiss to the side of my head, just behind my ear. It makes me shiver, and I lean further into him with a smile.
“Ok, you’re freezing.” He turns me around so I’m facing him, but he keeps his arms around me. So, I press my cheek against his chest. He runs his hands up and down my back. It feels so damn good. “Should we get out of here? Go for a drive?”
“Can we go to your place?”
He looks down at me, his eyes searching. “You want to?”
I nod.
“All right, Wren. Let’s go to my place.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
hank
The air seemsto have been sucked out of the cab of my truck. I don’t know if it's the darkness making this situation more intimate, or if it’s because we’ve been touching each other in small ways all night, but now that I’m alone in the truck with Wren, I’m nervous as hell. I was actually pretty surprised when she asked if we could go to my place. I couldn't get back to the truck fast enough.
I glance at her now, and the smell of strawberries and vanilla floats my way as I watch her unwind her hair from that bun I’d like to pull on.
I was so sure of myself at the festival, when there were a bunch of things to distract me. Now, she’s sitting within literal touching distance with nothing but the dark road ahead, and I can’t fucking breathe.
My eyes drop to her legs, where the tiny cutoffs she’s wearing ride up well past the point of short. The truck drifts and I jerk my eyes back to the road, correcting course slowly.
“Do you want some music?” I ask, hoping she can’t hear the wobble in my voice.
“Sure.” She nods, shaking out her long blonde hair. “What does Hank Hayes listen to these days?”
“A bit of everything, I guess.” I reach forward to turn the radio dial, but it falls off and goes rolling across the floorboard under my feet.
A little snicker comes from her side of the truck. I may have taken good care of her granddad’s truck over the years, but I never did get around to replacing that dial.
“I’ll get it.” She scoots forward on the seat and leans so close that her hair falls across my thigh.
And now I’m thinking about road head. Perfect.
Get it the fuck together, Hayes!
When she finally gets her fingers on the knob and sits up, I hope I’ve schooled my features into something other than aroused panic. She slides closer on the bench seat to reach the radio and pushes the power knob back into place. She starts flipping through stations, and it startles me when a hand grips my bicep.
“Do you remember when we lost the other knob and had to listen to mariachi music for, like, ever because we couldn’t change the station?” she asks with a laugh.
I struggle to pull air into my lungs because, my God, the feel of her touch on my bare skin sends another jolt of lust straight to my groin.
I clear my throat, happy that she seems completely oblivious to what is going on south of the border.
“Do you mean the timeyoulost the knob and we had to listen to mariachi music for, like, ever?” Smirking, I cock a brow and shoot her a sideways glance.
