I dash out of the master suite and around the banister to the bedroom I occupy. It’s the same one Sly and I shared in high school, only now it’s converted to a guest room. “I’m coming now. I’ll be there in three hours.”
Tossing my phone on the bed, I strip off my pajama pants and grab a bra. It’s late May, so it’s warm enough for cutoffs and an oversized V-neck tee. I grab my cable cardigan just in case. I always seem to get sick this time of year. My aunt always says it’s allergies.
Quickly brushing my teeth, I figure I’ll grab a coffee on the road, and just like that, I’m out the back door, moving fast and fiddling with my keys when I slam into a wall of granite.
“Oh!” I stagger back, grabbing the railing of the steps.
“Damn, are you okay?”
I think I see stars. “What the… What?”
“You dropped your keys.” It’s Scout.
He’s dressed as always in faded jeans and a tee, and I watch as he reaches down to grab my keys from the grass.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was sitting around Gran’s, and I figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re not trying to cut your arm off again with a giant cock.”
His hair falls across his blue eyes, and an image of me reaching out, sliding it away, flashes through my brain.
This boy is nothing but trouble.
“I don’t need another cock.”
He grins, and that damn dimple appears. “You never know.”
“I know. Thanks.” I take my keys and start for the Bronco.
Scout’s right behind me. “Where you going?”
“Greenville. Dad has a chair I have to pick up today or he’s going to sell it.”
“Must be some chair. Greenville’s a three-hour drive.”
Exhaling my frustration, I nod as I open the driver’s-side door. “It is. Sorry, I can’t stand around and chat.”
“I’ll go with you.”
He jogs around the front of my vehicle, but I don’t move. “No, you won’t.”
“Why not? You can’t load a chair by yourself.”
“My dad will help me load it.”
He pulls open the passenger’s side door and climbs in. “What will you do when you get back?”
Standing beside my Bronco, I look across the bench seat at him. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t you have something to do?”
“I’m doing it. Your aunt sent me over here to help you.”
“Yesterday. She sent you to help Sly, who’s not even here, yesterday.”
“Maybe we got our wires crossed. Or she did.” He fastens his seatbelt and stretches a muscled arm across the top of the seat in my direction. “You’re wasting daylight.”
This is a mistake. I know this is a mistake. Scout Dunne could charm the pants off a donkey. Still… Dad is getting too old to move furniture.
“I’m going to regret this,” I mutter, climbing in and slamming the door. His hand grazes my shoulder, and I pull away. “You should take your arm down. It isn’t safe.”
He shoves a lock of golden-brown hair behind his ear and laughs. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” I turn the ignition, and we take off out of town.
A half-hour into the drive, the radio’s blasting “Please Mr. Please” by Olivia Newton-John, and we’re both singing at the top of our lungs.
Very badly.
Scout actually has a pretty decent falsetto, but I waver on the chord progressions.
We’re just crossing I-95 when I see a Starbucks sign. “I need coffee. Want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He shifts his large body to face me, lifting a knee onto the seat. “Maybe I’ll get out and walk around.”
While I sit in the drive-through, he gets out, walking to the side of the building and stretching his arms over his head. I watch the movement of his long body, the muscles of his arms rippling as he leans side to side.
He turns, and I catch a glimpse of skin when his T-shirt rises. I see the two lines of muscle on his waist, disappearing into his jeans, and my bottom lip slides between my teeth. I’m in a haze of lust when my eyes drift higher and lock on his.
His lips curl into a smile, and it’s a slam of full-force sex appeal.
“Miss?” The voice on the loudspeaker is impatient. “Can I take your order, please?”
“Oh, shit!” I jump. “I’m sorry! I just need a tall dark roast with cream. Sorry.”
“Will that be all?”
“Yes. Yes, that will be all.”
Driving around, I pull the neck of my sweater away from my throat. How did it get so hot in here? Reaching forward, I push the button for the air-conditioner.
“A/C? Really?” Scout climbs in on the passenger’s side as if nothing happened. “It’s only seventy-five degrees.”
“I feel stuffy. Must be the humidity.”
Passing the girl my payment, I take the coffee and put it in the cup holder, focusing on the road as I get us back to the interstate. My heart is beating too fast, and I’m breathing like I just jogged up a flight of stairs, which is silly. So, so silly.
“You have a great singing voice.” Scout tilts his head, looking at me.
I’m quiet a moment, then I blink to where he’s studying me from the passenger’s side. Forcing a smile, I look back at the road. “Thanks.”
“How is it you know the freakin’ oldest Olivia Newton-John song of all time?”
“My mom was a fan.”
“No way, mine too!”
“They were probably the same age. Our moms, I mean.”
I reach for the cup, and I notice my fingers tremble. So silly.
I have seriously got to get a grip. I was never into Scout Dunne. We went to one dance together at the very beginning of senior year, and after that, we were just friends until we both graduated and went our separate ways.
“How old was she?” Genuine interest imbues his tone, and he shifts around in the seat again to face me.
“What do you mean?” Glancing over, I catch his dark brow furrowed over his
