Page 18 of Austin
Right.
Austin got out of the truck, came around the back and then held out his hand for her suitcase. Kristen scowled at him. He didn’t budge and she couldn’t place her suitcase into the bed of the truck unless he moved. Apparently, he couldn’t help doing the guy thing, so rather than make a point by walking around him, she relinquished the case and he set it in the bed of the truck.
She got into the cab, taking care when she stepped on the tubular steel running board, and found her safety belt. The truck smelled of leather and oil, rosin and guy. A heady mixture that stirred something in her that she didn’t want stirred. Not one little bit. She settled her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead as he put the truck in gear, wondering if this felt as unreal to him as it did to her. And if every muscle in his body was as taut as hers.
Every muscle of his very hard body.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up and the sinews in his bare arms stood out. Judging by what she could see, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the guy. Just solid muscle. There was probably a six-pack under his T-shirt.
Big deal.
Except that he smelled good.
You are in control.
Yeah. Right. Totally in control.
Okay—you can fake being in control.
Exactly.
Austin navigated through town like he lived there, thanks to the phone app that talked him onto the freeway. As they merged with the early morning traffic, heading to I80, which would eventually take them to Salt Lake City, he rolled his shoulders as if taking the kinks out.
“Sore?” She surprised herself by speaking. Surprised him, too, if the look he gave her was anything to judge by.
“I’m pretty much always sore in one way or another.”
“I see.” Because talking to him made her feel self-conscious, she sounded stiff. Formal. Cold. Exactly the way she didn’t want to sound, because she didn’t want him to call her on her attitude again.
“You get used to it.” He glanced over at her. “Did you much sleep last night?”
She assumed he was commenting on her pale face and tired eyes, but she decided to take the comment at face value. So much easier that way. “Not much. I packed. Then I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.” She glanced over at him. “How was your evening?”
“I slept.” His inflection was dry, but there was no trace of irony in his expression.
“How long to your friend’s ranch?”
“Four hours give or take.”
She directed her gaze forward, doing her best to ignore him, but that was impossible. It was as if the cab of the truck was growing smaller by the second. She stared out the window, watched the river go by, worried her hands together in her lap, then stopped when she realized what she was doing.
“Is this how the entire trip is going down?” Austin finally asked.
She felt herself start to flush. “I’m not good at small talk.” Which should have been obvious to him by now.
“Maybe you should practice.” She shot him a startled look and was rewarded with a bland smile. “What could it hurt?”
“If you have to ask, then you don’t have a shy bone in your body.”
“Don’t you mean a socially anxious bone?”
Her mouth tightened briefly. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Guilty.” He brought his gaze back to the road, making Kristen feel relatively safe until he said. “Name a topic.”
“What?”
“Name. A. Topic.”
Kristen gave Austin a pained look. “I apologized. Do you have to torture me, too?”
He gave her another look, but this one wasn’t so much wicked as hard. “Yeah. I think I do.”
