Page 32 of Oz
“It’s a book on teaching driving. I found it in the study.”
“How old is it?” I marvel.
“It’s notthatold,” he says defensively.
“I bet there’s a chapter in there on how not to run over the man walking in front of your car with a flag.”
He snorts. “Shut the fuck up. I just want to do this right.”
I shake my head while melting inside. “Okay then.” I wave a lordly hand. “Proceed.”
“Thank you,” he says dryly and touches his forehead in a salute. “Okay, the first thing you have to be aware of is thatyouare in control of the car. The car is not in control of you.”
I nod. “Like BDSM.”
“Pardon?”
“Like BDSM. The person on their knees is the one with all the power, not the person spanking them.” He stares at me and I cough. “At least so I’ve heard.”
He looks at me, biting his lip before obviously deciding not to venture down that conversational bypass. “Okay, let’s start with the pedals. First, can you reach them?”
I push my foot out and flush. “Not exactly,” I say through clenched teeth. If he says how cute I am or sweet, I’ll smack him one. Most men when confronted with my size tend to think it makes me the adult male equivalent of a Pokémon.
Silas, however, is smarter. Hastily looking at the pedals, he avoids my irate gaze. “Pull your seat forwards if you want. Or backwards,” he quickly adds. “I mean if you haven’t got enough leg room.”
My lip twitches.He’s so adorable.
He watches while I grab the lever and pull the seat forward. “You can go up and down too,” he mutters.
I turn to wink at him. “I know I can. It’s one of my specialities.”
He swallows hard. “No, I mean the seat goes up and down if you can’t see over the wheel.” He falters slightly when he catches my steely gaze and settles for pointing aimlessly across the car park ahead of us as if I’d somehow mistakenly thought that I’d look out the back window when driving.
I bite my lip. “I’m just a bit sensitive about my size,” I say in a low voice. “Too many years of having the piss taken out of me or being spoken to like a child.”
He smiles at me and says hesitantly, “I think the problem, Oz, is that you look delicate but that’s not who you are. You’re actually really fierce.”
I stare at him. No man who’s not a friend has ever said that about me. “My mum used to say that my spirit animal was probably something small with sharp teeth.”
He looks me up and down. “Like a hamster?”
I glare at him. “I was actually thinking of a fox but you’re saying I’ve got a big belly and round cheeks.”
He breaks into a fit of what can only be described as giggles. To see a big bearded man giggle is oddly awesome. “Like a mutant hamster,” he gets out between laughter and holding his sides.
I shake my head, trying not to smile and failing. “If you’ve quite finished insulting me, can we get on with this terrible driving lesson? I’m sure no one at a professional driving school would have called me a hamster and made BDSM jokes.”
“Ididn’t make them,” he says indignantly. “That was you.”
“I can’t hear you,” I say loudly. “I’m concentrating on my pedals.”
He shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, back to business, Pika.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“It’s a little animal that looks like a rabbit.”
“Oh myGod.” I throw my arms up. “I don’t need second sight to know that nickname’s fucking sticking.”
