Page 48 of The History Between Us

24

William Andino

It’s nearly five o’clock by the time we leave the bar, and my body is so damn keyed up I can hardly think straight, let alone get in my car and properly operate the vehicle. I’ve been on edge since the minute Colt sat down beside me. I’m surprised I was able to tame my stiff fucking erection before it was time to get up.

That would’ve been fun to try to explain to my colleagues.

“That was fun,” Colt quips from the passenger seat. I clench my jaw, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.Fun.Sure. Right. A whole hell of a lot of fun being fondled under the table while my business partner told us about his karate kicking toddler.A fucking blast.

I don’t bother responding. He’s either delusional or he’s trying to get under my skin. My guess goes to the latter, so gracing him with any sort of a response is just fueling his fire. A fire I don’t need raging between us. All I have to do is drop him off at his house, then leave, and I’ll be fine. It’s that simple.

I can do that. I’m a strong-willed man. A fucking doctor,for Christ’s sake.

So, then why are my palms sweating and my heart racing?

The radio is turned off, so there’s nothing to occupy my mind during this drive that seems to be taking forever. Colt must notice the absence of music because after a moment he starts humming. It takes me a moment to place the tune, and then it clicks…

“Is thatDust on the Bottle?” I ask him before I can stop myself.

Flashing me with a crooked grin, Colt nods. “Sure is.”

Good God. That’s one of my favorite songs.

“Do you always drive with no music on?” he asks when I don’t say anything back. “Reminds me of Whit.”

“Whit doesn’t listen to music?”

“He does, just not when he drives. It’s bizarre.”

Arching a brow, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Why is that bizarre?”

Colt scoffs like he can’t believe I’d ask such an idiotic question. “Because Doc,” he starts, shifting in his seat so his body is facing me. His hands move animatedly as he speaks, something I’ve noticed he does a lot when he’s really into what he’s talking about. “There’s nothing better than driving down a back road with the windows rolled down and the music cranked way up loud. It’s… freeing,” he adds. “And exhilarating.”

Typically, I do enjoy a good tune as I’m driving, and truth be told, I’m not entirely sure why the radio is turned off right now. I think it’s just that my thoughts are loud enough to occupy me.

“What’s your favorite song to listen to while you drive?” I ask him, although I’m not sure why. Conversing with Colt about anything personal is about the last thing I should be doing.

“Shoot, that’s an impossible question.” Making the mistakeof flitting my gaze over to him, he’s wearing a bright smile that makes his green eyes glimmer. It’s a breathtaking sight. I tighten my fist around the steering wheel as I return my attention to the road while Colt continues. “There’s no way I could pick. What about you?”

I pause for a moment. Not because I don’t have an answer, but I’m unsure if it’s wise to share it with Colt. Even if it’s just a song, it’s like letting him get to know me outside of the bedroom is a disaster waiting to happen. “Well, the song you were humming is a great one, but there’s only one right answer, especially if it’s a warm summer evening.”

“Yeah? And what song is that?”

“Sweet Home Alabama.”

Colt whistles. “Lynyrd Skynyrd, can’t go wrong there.” Then he pulls out his phone before reaching for the dash.

“What are you doing?”

“Gimme a second,” he offers, that damn smirk still on his face. A moment later, a familiar guitar intro reaches my ears, and I can’t help the grin that tugs on my lips. “Roll your window down,” he orders as he turns the volume up and rolls his own down.

“No,” I grunt, now biting the inside of my cheek to hide the smile.

Colt reaches over, smacking my thigh with his palm. “Just do what I say, Doc,” he shouts. The smile weaves between his words, and it’s enough to make me crack. Glancing over at him, putting on my best bored expression, I press my finger down on the button that rolls my window down. His smile widens. “There we go!”

Turning the volume up even louder, Colt plays the air drums—perfectly, might I add—as he sings along to the lyricslike nobody is watching. I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes on the road because the urge to watch him is much stronger. Luckily, it’s not long before I’m turning into his driveway. As soon as I put the car in park in front of his house, I shift in my seat, taking in the carefree man in my passenger seat.

The one who very much shouldn’t be there.

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