Page 12 of Dash to Me
I nod, relieved that we’re finally getting back on track. The mechanic hands Atlas the keys with a knowing smile that makes me blush. Does everyone in this town think we’re a couple now?
“Coffee first,” I insist as we climb into his freshly repaired truck. “I can’t function without caffeine, especially after...” My voice trails off as memories of last night flood my mind.
Atlas smirks, starting the engine. “After what, princess?”
“Shut up and drive,” I mutter, but I can’t help smiling.
We grab coffee and pastries at a drive-thru, then head to Maggie’s Bakery where the wedding cake waits. The owner, a plump woman with flour-dusted cheeks, greets us.
“Thank heavens! I was worried when you didn’t show yesterday. The bride called twice.”
If she only knew what we have been thru. “His truck broke down so we had to stay overnight one town over. Is the cake okay?
Maggie winks. “The cake’s ready and perfect.”
Atlas helps load the three-tier masterpiece into the backseat, securing it with straps and blankets while I call my brother from Atlas’ phone.
“Where the hell are you?” Ryan’s voice booms through the speaker.
“Relax, we have the cake and we’re on our way. Tell Jenna everything’s fine. We’ll be there in—” I look questioningly at Atlas.
“Three hours if we push it,” he supplies.
“Three hours,” I repeat. “Plenty of time before the ceremony.”
Ryan sighs. “Just hurry. And Eva?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever’s going on with you and Atlas... Mom’s already planning your wedding.”
I hang up, mortified. Atlas raises an eyebrow, clearly having overheard.
“So,” he says casually as we pull onto the highway, “should I expect a formal proposal soon, or...?”
I punch his arm, but can’t suppress my laughter. “Just drive, hero. We’ve got a wedding to save.”
As we speed down the highway, I find myself stealing glances at Atlas. The morning sunlight catches in his hair, highlighting those golden strands I ran my fingers through last night. My cheeks warm at the memory.
“You’re staring,” he says without taking his eyes off the road.
“Am not.”
It feels... easy. Too easy. Nothing with Atlas has ever been simple before.
“So,” he says after a while, “are we going to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I play dumb, though I know exactly what he means.
“About how you moaned my name at least six times last night.”
“I did not!” I sputter, nearly choking on my coffee. “It was three times. Four, tops.”
We both burst out laughing, and something shifts between us. The tension transforms into something lighter, sweeter. This is what being in a relationship with the right person should be like.
“Seriously though,” he says once our laughter subsides. “What happens when we get back?”
I stare out the window at the passing landscape. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
