Page 38 of Tangled Desires

For a brief moment, I see the concern in his gaze, something deeper than just the sunburn. I settle back into my seat, letting the silence stretch between us. A song comes on the radio—Lose Yourselfby Eminem. I glance over and notice Harrison tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. I’d never have pegged him for an Eminem fan, but now it kind of makes sense. He’s got that edge to him—maybe it’s the fire in the lyrics that matches his own intensity.

The road feels endless, but I’m too exhausted to care. I’m starving though. Isla packed an esky full of snacks earlier, and I think we decimated it while the boys were off mucking about.

Still, I’m pretty sure it barely made a dent. A proper meal is going to be a must when we get home. Surprisingly, today hasn’t been the vomit fest I expected. Not once did I have to hurl. Those ginger gummies might actually be magic. Miracles, people.

Xavier and Isla’s car has disappeared further up the road somewhere, but I’m not worried. Harrison’s old ‘80 Hilux clatters down the dirt road. I’m no car snob, but Dad taught me a thing or two. I can respect a solid piece of metal, even if it’s not some shiny new thing. But this? This bloody beast jerks around like we’re on a rollercoaster, and every bump has me bouncing like a rag doll. The road’s narrow, uneven, and full of bloody mud when, out of nowhere, a kangaroo… yes, a fuckingkangarooleaps right in front of us.

“Holy shit!” My heart shoots into my throat.

“Shit!” Harrison wrenches the wheel left, the Hilux skidding sideways. The tyres screech, then slam into a ditch with a sloshing thud. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Fuck me.”

I glance out the window. The whole tyre is buried in the mud. “Yeah, good luck with that,” I mutter, folding my arms. “You’re bogged.”

“Not yet,” he snaps, jaw tight. “I can get us out.”

“Should I call Isla?”

“No, wait.” He’s already halfway out the door. “I’ve got this.” I watch as he marches to the back of the ute, muscles straining under his shirt, hat turned backward, like he’s about to wrestle this thing out of the mud with his bare hands. My stomach flips. Why the fuck does him being covered in mud and swearing get me so damn worked up?

“Get in the driver’s seat,” he orders, voice low and commanding. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do,” he says, leaning in the window. “Accelerate slightly forward, put it inreverse, roll back a bit, then switch to drive and go forward again. Got it?”

“What, you gonna push it out with your bare hands, Hulk?” I shoot back, crossing my arms.

“You admiring my muscles, sugar?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

I scoff. “You wish.”

“Just hit the accelerator when I tell you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I’m doing. My dad taught me.”

He leans in, that cocky grin plastered on his face. “Oh, did he now? Well, let’s see if you can handle it, firecracker.”

“Watch and learn, caveman,” I shoot back, sliding the car into gear.

The way he moves? Yeah, alright, maybe I’m enjoying the show. He braces himself behind the ute, his shoes sinking into the mud, arms flexing like he’s about to save the day all by himself. I slide into the seat, hands gripping the wheel, waiting for him to give me the signal.

“Alright,” he yells over the engine, “go!”

I follow his instructions, easing the car forward, tires spinning as they dig into the mud. Then, like he said, I shift into reverse and roll back slightly, keeping one eye on the side mirror, where Harrison’s braced behind the Hilux, ready to push. “Alright, now drive!” he shouts, voice strained.

I slam it back into gear, pressing the accelerator. The engine roars, but the noise drowns out whatever he’s yelling. The rear wheels spin like crazy, flinging mud in every direction. Before I can blink, “Fuck, stop, stop!” Harrison yells, his voice thick with frustration... and mud. So much mud.

I check the mirror, trying to hold it together, but the sight of him—soaked from head to toe in thick, brown sludge—breaks me. “Oh shit, my bad,” I say, half-heartedly, but the giggle that slips out betrays me. He storms around the side, chest heaving,dripping with mud, wiping his face with a growl. But that cocky grin? Still there.

I snort. “Well, obviously, I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh, it’s funny now, is it? I’m covered in fucking dirt. I have to drive home like this.”

“Oh, please, like you weren’t going to get dirty, anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow, wiping his brow again, the grin sneaking back. “Hm. Yeah, I bet you did it on purpose.”

“Did what?” I scowl.

“You just wanted me all covered in mud.”

“Get over yourself, Harrison.” I scoff. “You’re the one who went out back. No one asked you to. I would’ve gotten the car out just fine.”

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