Page 20 of Quietly Falling
“It’s fine,” I say, my mantra for the foreseeable future even though my blood pressure is rising just thinking about this arrangement.
Not unlike my dick.
Fuck, I’m not gonna make it.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Ella says, slipping into the cab as I do the same, setting my phone in the cupholder and clutching my coffee cup in my hands.
She waves at Sorren, and I ignore the way he can’t quite keep a straight face as he watches us leave.
Bastard.
I swallow my sigh because Ella is an innocent party in all this. The anxiety fucking ping-ponging around the truck is all mine.
“What kind of music do you like?” she asks, glancing from me to the road, her eyes a mix of amber and brown with flecks of gold.
They’re beautiful.
Just like her.
“Whatever you like is fine.”
“Bodhi, look,” she says slowly, “we are going to be together a lot, and I don’t want to spend it with me talkin’ at you and you being pissed I’m doing it.”
“That’s not it.” I press my lips together and try to slow my racing heart. “I’m just quiet. You can talk or not talk.” Glancing at her, I add, “I don’t mind.”
She blushes, her cheeks heating, and I have to believe it’s more because we’re in this situation than because of me.
Ella’s gaze slides to me again. “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”
“Work for what?” I ask even though I have a pretty good idea.
“Getting to know each other,” she says brightly. “We could have done this before, but you gave me one-word answers, and nowI have your undivided attention. Plus we have the time; Ipromiseit’s gonna be fun!”
* * *
Four hours.
Four hours we’ve been on the road, with the smell of her perfume invading my senses and driving me half out of my mind. It’s sweet and seductive and I have had to count back from one hundred more than once.
And that’s not even counting the fact that, despite her initial claim, she has notstopped talking. Story after story has her practically bouncing in the driver’s seat, her energy and enthusiasm for absolutely everything unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with.
Holland’s unending questions included.
“…and my first car was this beat-up little Mazda truck—stick shift of course—with a Descending North CD stuck in the CD player. I’d never heard them before, but I didn’t care, you know? I worked and bought that truck outright so it was like a happy little bonus. I saw them play in Nashville one time. Garrett North issexyon stage.”
She fans her face and my hand crunches around the water bottle that replaced my empty coffee cup.
If she hears me, she doesn’t mention it, her babbling continuing despite her focus on the road. The sky is dark and ominous and the rain has started to fall. The storm is no longer a threat; it’s upon us.
“Mason and I saw them play at an outdoor show one time,” I say, surprising us both. Ella jerks the wheel a tiny bit as she looks at me, obviously startled as my heart drops into my stomach at the sudden movement.
“Stop grabbing theoh shit bar,” she growls. The fact that my knuckles are white, wrapped around the handle above my door, is something I didn’t even notice until she mentioned it.
“Sorry.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
