Page 59 of The Wild Card
With a groan, I toss the manual back in the glove box and slam it closed. “Can we pretend I never said that?”
“No, we cannot. And don’t avoid the question. What’s in your glove compartment, Molly?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you. Also, it’s weird you call it a compartment. It’s a glove box.”
“I think it can be both. Don’t try to change the subject. Should I be scared of what you keep in your glovebox?”
“Maybe.”
“I think if we’re going to consider this whole fake relationship thing, we’d need to know personal things about each other. Like what you keep in there.”
I feel a flush creeping up my neck, and I’m glad the darkness hides it. Because … he’s actually thinking about it? I sort of assumed this drive was a way for him to let me down easy.
“Is the idea still on the table? I thought you vetoed it.”
“Did I say that?” he asks, again shooting me a quick glance. Both his look and his voice have a flirtatious edge to them.
“You didn’t say anything, actually. I thought you wanted to take this drive so you could let me down easy.”
Collin only hums as he turns the car from a main road to a gravel one. If I were with anyone else, I’d be concerned at how isolated we are. But something about Collin makes me feel innately safe. Cared for. Protected.
“For the record, my car is kind of a mess,” I admit. “The glove box probably has some snacks, which may or may not be expired; an extra hairbrush and makeup bag; an assortment of takeout menus; napkins, which should be the glove box baseline; and some pens that may or may not still work. Definitely no car manual. Now you know. Is this a dealbreaker, Mr. Biceps?”
Collin pulls the car to a stop next to a fence, then parks and turns to look fully at me. Under the intensity of his stare, I find it hard not to fidget. He’s just so … handsome. His face has its own gravitational pull, at least where I’m concerned.
“Not a dealbreaker. Though I am curious about your car manual. Where do you keep it?”
“I threw it away.”
He blinks, looking stunned. “What do you do when one of the dashboard lights comes on?”
“Ignore it? Or I do this fancy thing called Google it.”
Collin narrows his eyes at me. “Google, you say? Never heard of it. Maybe you could teach me?”
“For a price.”
“How much?” he asks. “I have a feeling you’d be a really great teacher.”
We’re talking about incredibly silly things. Half of what I’ve said is pure nonsense. But there is something about the way Collin’s looking at me, something about the rough timbre of his voice that makes this the most flirtatious conversation I’ve ever had. My body is responding like it too, with a swooping feeling in my belly and the tiny hairs on my arms standing up like miniature satellites, all tuned his way.
“How much?” Collin repeats.
My brain is totally in sync with my body because the price it wants to give Collin is a kiss.
Since I’m definitely not going to saythatbut also don’t know where to go from here, I instead point out the window to where a cow has ambled up to the fence and is watching us. Rather nosily, I might add.
“By the way, where are we?”
“Oh.” Collin’s demeanor shifts in an instant, and he looks suddenly cagey. “Just … driving. It’s a random field.”
“And a random cow? Hm. He seems friendly.” I’m out of the car before I have time to overthink it.
I need a little breathing room after Collin sucked up all the oxygen in the car.
Approaching the fence slowly, I hold out my hand like I would to a dog to sniff. “Hey, Mr. Cow. Are you friendly?”
It continues chewing whatever it’s got in its mouth. Maybe cud? I never understood the whole concept of multiple stomachs and regurgitating grass to eat it again. Gross.
