Page 42 of Our Long Days
He grunts in response, ever the caveman.
“You ready to go?” I ask while admiring my new jewelry.
“Huh?” He bends at the knees, brow pinched.
“Oh, sorry.” I ensure he can see my lips. No hearing aid today. “Are you ready to go?”
He nods. “Yeah, let’s get going.”
We move toward his pickup, and I speak more clearly. “How come you’re not wearing your hearing aid?”
His steps falter, kicking up stones. “Forgot.”
“I could set a reminder. Or maybe we?—”
“Florence, it’s fine,” he cuts me off, frowning at the ground.
I open my mouth, but he throws me a warning glare, preempting my apology. The guilt for prying quickly flees when he presses the keys into my hand and rounds the hood, opening the passenger’s door and climbing inside.
Hooking my arms through the open window, I duck inside. “You’re in my seat.”
“Nah. That one’s yours today. Get in.”
I blanch. “Does this have auto-pilot suddenly? Because in case you forgot, I can’t drive.”
He twists his big body, knee knocking into the dash to face me fully. All playfulness disappears when he pins me with a thoughtful look. “Yet. But you will soon enough. Don’t make abig deal out of it.” His voice is gruff when he spies my watery expression.
I press my lips together, staving off the tears. “Quit doing sweet things for me then, lumberjack.”
“Listen, if you’d rather not learn, then?—”
“No!” I rush out. “It’s not that…”
He waits for me to fill in the blanks.
“Dad was going to teach me the summer after I turned fifteen, but I kept getting in my head about it. Plus, I had three brothers who chauffeured me around. By the time I felt ready to start lessons, I was sixteen.” I blow out a breath, tapping the metal. “He died a few weeks later.”
Dex nods slowly.
“After that, the idea of driving lessons felt tainted.”
“And today?”
I smile. “Today, I want to give it a try.”
His expression mirrors mine. “Get in then.”
Giddy and vibrating with the urge to kiss this sweet, sweet man, I open the door and settle behind the wheel. I grip the leather, warm from the morning sun, and position my hands. “Ten and two, right?”
He smirks. “You watch too many movies. Scoot over.”
I do as he says and stop breathing when he slides across the bench, crowding me against the door as he points at the dials and levers.
“Learning to drive stick might be more complicated, but after this, you can drive anything.”
“I already know how to handle a stick.”
He deadpans. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
