Page 36 of Swift and Saddled

“Not while you’re in neutral.” Got it. I lifted my foot off the clutch slowly, and there was a point where it felt like there was more give on the clutch. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So when you feel that sweet spot, you’re going to give more on the gas,” he said. “A little give and a little go.”

“Are you”—I looked at him, knowing a smile was working its way up my cheeks—“quotingHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Days?”

A blush crept up Wes’s cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he said. I laughed like I did that first night at the bar, and felt my shoulders drop a little. “Does quoting Matthew McConaughey help or hurt?”

“Helps,” I said truthfully.A little give and a little go.I could do that.

“All right, all right, all right,” Wes said with a weird drawl in his voice, and I laughed again.

“Isthatyour McConaughey?”

“Obviously,” he responded, somewhat deflated.

“That is—quite literally—the worst McConaughey impression I’ve ever heard.” I might have been exaggerating a little bit, but it really was bad. Weston’s jaw dropped, and it was so fucking cute I couldn’t help but laugh some more.

With every exhale, I felt lighter.

“All right, smartass,” he said. “If it’s so bad, I’d like to hear you do better.”

I cleared my throat, not even having the chance to wonder when I became so comfortable with Weston, and wrestled up my best McConaughey: “All right, all right, all right.”

Weston let out a laugh that felt like when you go out to bask in the sun after being in an air-conditioned space for too long. I could feel the warmth seeping into my fingers and toes.

And so I laughed too.

We laughed together, and the more we laughed, the harder it got to stop.

I kept trying to catch my breath, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t long before I felt tears pricking at the sides of my eyes and my stomach started to hurt. When Weston laughed hard, apparently he got one of those weird silent hiccup laughs. He had his head on the dashboard, and his upper body was heaving. He reminded me of a bug, and that made me laugh harder.

And when I snorted a little, Weston hit the dashboard with one of his hands and threw his head back and laughed some more.

This was so fucking stupid, but I couldn’t stop. We couldn’t stop.

I thought back to that night at the bar, how he made me smile, and how he’d made me smile every day since—even when I wasn’t kind to him.

He was like the sun. No matter what, he would keep coming up.

I didn’t think that my ears had ever been so far from my shoulders.

“That was so bad,” Weston said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You are the worst impressionist that has ever lived. I am not kidding.”

“No, you are,” I said.

“At least I know how to drive a manual,” he said with a wink. Christ. I thought the dimples were bad.

“Well, my teacher kind of sucks, so…” I shrugged.

Wes shook his head. “Start the truck, Ada.” He was smiling, and so was I. I felt more relaxed than I had a few minutes ago—like I could actually do this and be okay.

“Neutral, clutch, gas?” I said out loud, looking at Wes.

“You got it.” He nodded, and I started the truck. James Taylor started flowing through the speakers again. I put the truck in first gear and prepared myself to let off the clutch and press on the gas.A little give and a little go.

I started to let the clutch out, and when I got to the spot I’d felt earlier, I pushed on the gas pedal. Probably a little too hard, because the truck lurched forward, jolting all three of us.

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