Page 37 of Get Me to the Starting Line

“I’m fine, Julien, really. Let’s go.” He waits a moment before the truck roars to life.

I finally look at him, trying to get rid of this weird tightness I feel. “How should I punish you for breaking our deal?”

“What?” His eyes go wide as dinner plates, and I have to work not to burst out laughing. Even in the dim light I can see the colour flushing his cheeks.

All the tightness in my body is gone.

Thank god.

“You promised you wouldn’t speak to me.”

His shoulders relax as understanding flashes across his face. He turns back to the steering wheel to put the truck in gear, but he doesn’t move.

“We aren’t driving yet,” he says. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You said not to speak to you on the drive.”

And we’re not driving. “Smartass,” I mumble.

When the truck still doesn’t move, I give him an exasperated look. “What are you waiting for?”

“Your address.”

Oh, right. He puts it into his GPS as I recite it as fast as possible. He keeps up with me, though, making no mistakes. When he’s done, he pauses, turning to me with an odd expression.

“What?”

He takes a breath and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but closes it and then we’re driving.

That is one of my biggest pet peeves. It’s almost as bad as starting to say something and then ending with, “never mind.” Even if it’sinconsequential, you have to say it now or it’s going to bother me for the rest of eternity.

Not an exaggeration.

I play back the look he gave me and wonder what he was going to say as we drive through the busy streets of Vancouver.

My top contenders are:

You’re a pain in my ass.

Get out.

Do you want to get dessert? (Yes. Always yes.)

How will you punish me if I speak?

The last thought crosses my mind without my say so, and I cannot help the pool of warmth that spreads through me. Where did that come from? It can’t possibly be from seeing him work out so hard I felt my own muscles getting sore by proximity.

I’ve got to pull it together, to remind myself of all the reasons I should not like this man. Remember when he almost knocked me over and then blamed me for bringing my son to a party?

Remember when he deleted my dessert ideas from the Google Doc? Yeah, yeah, I deleted his first, but still ... His was one line and mine was almost a full, detailed page. It absolutely was not the same! And he got his way in the end.

I war with myself, going over every incriminating thing in my head, trying to ignore that stupid, reasonable voice that whispers I’m being a little too pissy about it.

For most of my adult life, I’ve had to fight for what I have. Hell, I had to fight for my life last year after a car accident. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit pissy, but I can’t trust myself to let my guard down.

The seat belt has to stay on. Always.

Especially around Julien, who seems to take a sledgehammer to my heart every time he opens his mouth.

I can’t wait to get home and snuggle Levi. He’s probably asleep already—poor little guy has been with Maggie and Thomas, and they are the most energetic grandparents out there. The kids get tired before they do.

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