Page 177 of The Night Shift
“This is ridiculous.”
I rest my chin on the top of her head. Her back is straight as a ruler, shoulders practically glued to her ears. My thumb drifts under the hem of her hoodie, tracing lazy circles against the strip of skin at her waist.
“Relax, Holly.”
“Iamrelaxed.”
I press down on the accelerator. The car rolls forward. Holly keeps the wheel straight with knuckles as white as bone.
“Loosen your grip.”
“Itisloose,” she snaps.
“Holly, you’re not fighting off a pack of wolves. Keep your touch light.” I guide one of her hands just enough for her to feel the difference. “The car moves with you, not against you.”
“Is that what they taught you at the Driving for Morons University?”
I kiss the back of her neck.
She exhales through her nose, adjusting her hold. Less white-knuckled, more fluid.
“Good girl.”
“Shutup.”
We keep moving, slow and steady. Holly’s grip evens out, but she’s still hyper-focused, almost like she’s waiting for the car to suddenly turn on its own and throw us into a ditch.
My hand rests lightly over hers, guiding only when needed.
She feels warm against me. Her weight shifts with every bump in the road. She molds into my lap. I lean in to subtly inhale the scent of her hair. “You’re doing great, love. You’re a natural. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Stop patronizing me.” Her whole body remains locked up tighter than a vise. Every time the car so much as hums beneath her, she flinches like it might explode.
“Love,relax.”
“Iamrelaxed!”
“You’re gripping the wheel like you’re landing a 747.” I nudge her fingers apart gently. “No one is trying to wrestle it out of your hands, Hollister.”
“Don’t call me that.” She lets out a huff, but her hold relaxes.
“That’s my girl.”
She eases back against me. “You’re a horrible teacher.”
“Only because I have such a magnificent student.” I press the brake gently, slowing us to a crawl. “Want to try a turn?”
“Aren’t we still on the freeway?”
“We can try there.” I nod toward an empty parking lot just off the freeway. It’s perfect. No cars, no pressure. It should help her get a bit more comfortable.
I steer us into the lot. Holly is still on my lap, warm and solid against my chest. “Ready?”
“What do you mean, ready? What am I supposed to do?” She stiffens, fingers twitching against the wheel.
“Holly.”
“If you tell me to relax one more time, I am going to gut you like a fish.”
