Page 82 of Final Serenade

Frank finally spoke. “I need to go to Arizona for a couple of days.” His voice was a quivering murmur.

“Okay.” My fingertips reached the nape of his neck and brushed his skin. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

I knew what, or who, was in Arizona and feared the answer to what I was thinking, yet I waited for more. I waited for an explanation. But he chose to keep me in the dark. No more words were spoken. Instead, he snaked his arms around my waist and drew me into the space between his thighs, burying his face into the soft fabric of my crop top.

We were in a strange embrace, a ball of conflicting emotions and ragged heartbeats. I didn’t dare move. I was scared he’d lose the peace he’d found in this awkward hug. The hard feel of his jaw on my ribs and the soft tickle of his breath on my skin made me drunk with feelings and I was ready to hold him until the morning if that was what he wanted from me.

“Ever drive a Ferrari?” Frank finally broke the silence. His palm slid up my back and he looked up at me.

“No.” I shook my head. Our gazes connected. His was unreadable.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

“Can we take my car?”

He stood up and grabbed my hand, his height towering over mine. “It’s really easy, Cassy.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not familiar with manual.”

“It’s semi-automatic.”

Hannah was right. The man was stubborn.

He led me across the room and outside to where the Ferrari was already waiting for us. Its bright red roof glittered under the stream of virgin moonlight. I heard crickets, tree frogs, and the fierce laps of the ocean down below, the sounds crashing at me all at once.

I’d stopped paying attention to Frank’s cars a while back. There were too many to keep up with, but they made a nice backdrop because he hardly drove them. Most of the time, he was just a passenger. He wanted to be the passenger now too.

Fear paralyzed me as we climbed into the Ferrari. There wasn’t enough room for my heart inside my chest. I felt panic everywhere. In my throat, in my joints, in my mind.

“Frank.” Hands on the steering wheel, I turned to face him. “I don’t want to wreck your car.”

“You won’t.”

He adjusted his seat and began to explain the basics. His palm slid over mine carefully. Skin to skin, I followed his movements. The warmth of his touch soothed my roaring mind. There was something extremely sexy yet extremely patriarchal in the way he gave instructions. It wasn’t my father who taught me how to drive. It was my mother. And I had no idea what it would be like to actually have a father who wasn’t drunk in front of the TV, who took his time to show you the things parents were supposed to show their kids. And at this moment, I let myself pretend Frank wasn’t my lover. I let myself pretend he was someone else. I had no idea why he’d never had kids, but I had no doubt he’d make a good father one day. He was attentive and caring with a pinch of crazy, and I loved that about him. I loved every little detail, every smirk, every inhale, every moan…

We went over everything twice, then I started the car. The engine vibrated through me. It was a sudden surge of power I had no choice but to take.

“You’re doing great, doll,” Frank said. I could hear encouragement and a hint of a smile.

We drove past the property gate and down the hill until the road hit a fork. My hands clutched the wheel so hard, my knuckles hurt. I’d never driven an eight-cylinder vehicle, let alone a vehicle that cost a small fortune. And this…this felt like an achievement.

Frank reached for my shoulder, his fingers slipping to the back of my neck. We sat in front of the lonely traffic light, waiting for green.

“Relax,” he whispered. His voice hummed over the noise of the engine. It flowed through my chest, wrapping around my heart like a soft blanket. “You’re overthinking. It’s just a car.”

I drew a shaky breath and wiggled in my seat. His touch was a pleasant distraction.

Up ahead, the light changed. My foot hit the gas. First came a rumble, then came a jerk

“Take a left and jump on PCH.” Frank motioned at the signs that flew by.

My eyes never left the road, but I could sense the burn of his gaze on me. My cheeks flushed and my stomach turned over. Too nervous to speak, I stared at the stretch of highway we were running along.

“You’re a natural.” Frank laughed and rolled down the window.

Cool breeze hit the side of my face and ruffled my hair. “Is wanting to pee my pants considered natural too?” I yelled through the noise.

---