Page 6 of Major Love

I feel my heart flutter. “Just tonight.”

“I need to fill the tank up at the gas station,” he says. “But then we’ll floor it up the mountains.”

“Until we hit the state lines?” I whisper.

“Pedal to the metal, baby.”

His forehead nudges mine and my heart soars in my chest.

“No hitting the brakes?” I ask breathlessly.

He brackets my jaw in his hand. “No hitting the brakes.”

I sniffle and nod my head, relief and gratitude coursing through my chest.

Just Jason and me, hitting the road, all night long.

He’s always known exactly what I need.

He twines his fingers through mine and walks me quickly to the passenger side of his truck, opening the door and helping meup, before waiting with his forearm on the roof as I strap myself in.

Then he’s rounding the hood and dipping inside, meeting my eyes as he tugs on his seatbelt.

His irises flicker as he watches me for a beat, and then he leans over the centre console, making my heart thunder beneath my dress as he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.

Molten heat pools low in my belly, and I swallow quietly as I squeeze my hands above my thighs.

He pulls back an inch and brushes one of my curls with his coarse fingers.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs deeply.

Then he settles into his seat and eases his boot down on the pedal.

He takes my hand in his.

And then he drives.

Chapter 1

Sunday

Present day

I drop my carry-on beside the truck as I take in my brother Casey’s front porch, the rustic cabin looking cosy in the January afternoon light.

It’s Casey’s part-time hideaway for when he’s in his off-again period with his wife, Haven. Then, when they’re on-again, he moves back into the gorgeous American craftsman that he bought for her when she first became pregnant with their son, Tucker, until it’s time for Case to re-deploy, and then who the hell knows where he and Haven stand.

My eyes roam over the neat porch railing, the richness of the wood complimenting the pine trees surrounding the cul-de-sac, towering way above the small slanted roof, until you’re looking up so high that you can almost see the Phoenix Falls mountains.

I don’t know the names of all of them but I do know a few, and even though the snowfall is imminent I might take a drive up the passes before it hits.

I want to see what I’ve been missing for the past decade and a half.

Which reminds me.

I purse my lips and slide my eyes over to Casey’s truck, an enormous black Ford that’s perfect for Phoenix Falls winters.

The kind of car that evenI’llbe able to drive safely in.

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