Page 50 of Wren's Winter

“Right. Forty-eight hours,” he echoed, his voice flat. “We’ll have to make them count.”

He let go of his grip on my hips, letting me climb back over the console and grab our clothes from their various places strewn around the inside of the truck. Once dressed, the silence between us was thick. The click of the key in the ignition and Adrian’s hand behind my head as he backed up.

On the other side of the road, the cliff side edge didn’t seem as daunting as we made our descent. The radio was nothing but static. Bringing up how much time I had left was a mistake. Now he was probably worried I was vying for a commitment from him.

I hated long awkward silences, always had. Even when I knew the smart choice would be to not say anything, my mouth opened, and out came ridiculous words. “You know, next time, we’ll have to go in the back seat. It looks a little roomier.”

“Next time?” A small smile quirked on the corner of his mouth. “How many times do you plan on having sex in my truck?”

“How many times will you let me?” I asked back, giving me a casual smirk. The question was far more loaded than I wanted to admit, but I hoped my tone was casual.

I can be cool. I can be fun.

“I’ll pull the truck over right now for a round two.” He mimed jerking the steering wheel to the side, and I laughed.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“What girls? Before you, I’ve never defiled my truck with sex before.”

“Defiled?” I slapped a hand over my heart. “Is that what you call what we did?”

He glanced over at me, his eyes that earnest blue green. “No, what we had was consecrated.”

The thump of my heart was ringing in my ears, my chest suddenly too tight. How could he say these things so easily?

“Well, I might have thrown in a few holy names in the throes of passion,” I admitted.

This time, when he reached over to take my hand, the tension was gone.

Halfway down the mountain, we passed a truck in the ditch; the back tires lifted in the air, and the front tires spun useless against the snow and gravel mixture. Apparently, this was a common enough thing because Adrian let out a low chuckle and pulled to the side to park beside them. Two young boys emerged from the old SUV, red-faced and frowning.

With a squeeze to my thigh and the promise that I’d stay in the truck to stay warm, Adrian climbed out.

They must have been students of his because both boys visibly relaxed when they saw Adrian shaking his hand. On my knees, I twisted in the seat to watch as Adrian and the two teens assessed the situation, gesturing and laughing. The blond one pantomimed what must have been the moments before they hit the ditch. After a few minutes of talking, Adrian shook his head at them, frowning, and then went to the bed of his truck to retrieve a chain.

He directed the boys to various spots, pointing out where they needed to be and how they could help him. First, he crouched down below the tailgate of their truck, attaching the tow rope to something I couldn’t see. Then he popped back up to attach the other side to his own truck. The truck swayed and moved as he jerked the pieces into place.

When he saw me standing outside the truck, he frowned. “You don’t have to wait out here. It’s warmer in the truck.”

If he was working in the cold, it was silly for me to sit in front of the warm heater and watch from the safety of his leather seats. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

That got me an incredulous glare, but he didn’t argue.

“I didn’t know Mr. Winter was married,” the dark-haired one said.

Damn, it was cold out here. My coat was warm, but the icy sting of the snow kicking up from the ground was enough on my cheeks. “He’s not.”

The kid blinked, assessing me. Obviously, this kid was old enough to drive, at least sixteen, but that didn’t make him that much younger than me. I could have been his older sister. A brief glimpse of how weird it must be for Adrian to teach people, some only ten years younger than him, must be.

“Oh, so you’re, like, his girl?”

Teenagers were not my thing. I wasn’t even sure I liked them when I was one. Small children, sure, babies, give me their chubby little tummies and squishy cheeks. These kids, taller than me but missing half a prefrontal cortex. No, thank you.

“We’re friends.”

The kid laughed. “Glad to hear Mr. Winter’s getting it. Didn’t know Teach had the skills to snag like that.”

Incessantly blinking with a frown, I tried to decipher his words. Opening my mouth to respond with…what? No clue, honestly, when Adrian walked up, slapping his hands together in their thick leather gloves.

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