12. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Molly
The truck engine idles beneath me like a sleeping dragon, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to wake it up in the most violent way possible.
"Okay," I breathe, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles have gone completely white. "This is fine. This is totally fine. People do this every day. Teenagers do this. If a sixteen-year-old with questionable judgment and raging hormones can drive a truck this big, surely I can—"
"Molly." Beau's voice cuts through my spiral, warm and amused. "You're not performing surgery. It's just driving. Just like you've done it before… only a little different."
Just driving. Right.
Just controlling a two-ton death machine on winding mountain roads with a gorgeous man sitting inches away from me, close enough that I can smell his soap and feel the heat radiating from his body.
Not to mention I can still taste him on my lips after that kiss.
Yeah.
No pressure at all.
"Okay, but what if I accidentally put it in reverse and we go flying backward off a cliff?" I ask, staring at the gear shift like it might bite me. "What if I hit the gas too hard? What if—"
"What if," Beau interrupts, reaching over to cover my hands with his, then staring so deep into my eyes I forget to breathe. "…you just trust me when I say I'm not going to let anything happen to you?"
His hands are warm and calloused and completely engulf mine through sheer size.
Seriously. I forget how to breathe, let alone drive.
"Foot on the brake," he says softly, his voice way too close to my ear. "Good. Now shift into drive, and let's go."
I follow his instructions and the truck lurches forward about an inch. I yelp, slamming on the brake so hard we both jerk forward.
"Jesus!" I gasp. "Why did it do that? Is that normal? Did I break something already?!"
Beau makes a sound that might be a laugh.
Or he might be him dying inside.
"You are fine and the truck's fine. Just... lighter on the brake next time."
"Lighter on the brake. Got it." I nod like he's just shared the secrets of the universe. "Light brake. Light, light brake."
"And when you're ready, just ease onto the gas. Gentle pressure."
I take a deep breath and press the gas pedal.
The truck shoots forward like it's been launched from a cannon.
" GENTLE !"
Beau's roars is deafening, his hand shooting out to steady the wheel as I overcorrect, sending us swerving toward the shoulder, nearly collecting a mailing box and a trash can.
"I was being gentle!" I protest, yanking the wheel back the other way, which makes us fishtail in the opposite direction.
"That's not— Jesus Christ, Molly —here, let me—"
Suddenly he's leaning across me, his chest pressed against my shoulder as he helps guide the steering wheel to correct the wheels. His beard brushes against my cheek and I catch that smell that makes my brain short-circuit completely.
God he smells good.
In my sexy-man-induced haze, I accidentally hit the windshield wipers when reaching out for the wheel again.
" Beau ! Why are there windshield wipers flapping now?" I ask desperately as they scrape across the dry glass, the sound created ringing in my ears. "It's not even raining! How do I make them stop?"
"Wrong lever," Beau mutters, reaching across me again to turn them off. His arm brushes against my breast and I swear I feel him tense up. Or maybe that's just me.
Focus on the road, not his forearms. Focus on the road, not how good he smells. Focus on literally anything except how much you want to—
HONK!
"WHAT WAS THAT?" I shriek, jerking the wheel again.
"You hit the horn," Beau says, and I can hear him fighting laughter at how ridiculous this is. "Christ, woman. It's fine. Just... keep your hands on the steering wheel. Only the steering wheel."
"Why is everything so complicated?!" I scream, my voice hitting a pitch that probably only dogs can fully appreciate.
I'm pretty sure I'm having a nervous breakdown, but then Beau's hand covers mine on the steering wheel again and somehow, magically, the truck straightens out.
"Breathe," he says simply. "You're doing fine."
"I almost killed us. Twice. In thirty seconds."
"But you didn't." His voice is so calm, so sure, that some of my panic actually starts to recede. "Just… try again. Gentle gas, steady hands." He looks at me and I feel his glare. "No wipers."
"Okay."
I really focus this time, and when I press the pedal, the truck moves forward at a reasonable speed.
We're actually moving, and in a straight line. Without windshield wipers or random honking.
"Oh my God," I breathe. "Oh my GOD! I'm driving! I'm actually driving this beast!"
"You are," Beau agrees, finally settling into the seat beside me. "Told you I wouldn't let anything go wrong."
For the next twenty minutes, Beau patiently talks me through every turn. It's a bigger vehicle than I'm used to, and that requires a different technique.
By the time we reach the main road into town, I'm starting to feel almost... confident.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," I say, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. "Riley always said I'd probably crash. Or kill someone if I tried to drive anything except my little car."
Beau goes very still beside me. "Yeah, well. He's a fucking idiot then, isn't he?"
There's something dangerous in his voice, and when I glance over, his jaw is clenched tight enough to crack teeth.
"It's fine," I say quickly. "I mean, he wasn't entirely wrong. Did you see what just happened back there? I nearly took out a tree."
"That's called learning," Beau says flatly. "Not crashing and killing people. That's normal when you're starting out."
I can feel the tension radiating from him, and I hate that I brought Riley into this perfect moment. This is supposed to be about me and Beau, about this new thing growing between us.
About last night, and that perfect moment we shared just before. The one that keeps replaying in my mind like a movie scene I can't stop watching.
I've never felt such emotion with just a simple kiss before.
And by simple, I mean all-consuming .
The kind of kiss that starts at your lips but somehow reaches all the way down to your toes, leaving every inch between tingling and alive.
By the time we do a few more laps, I'm feeling downright cocky.
I park the truck. Okay, it's more like I aim it vaguely at the curb and hope for the best… but we end up stopped and in one piece, so I'm calling it a victory.
"I DID IT!" I announce, throwing my hands up in triumph. "I drove a truck! An actual truck!"
"You did," Beau agrees, and he's definitely smiling now. "How does it feel?"
"Like I could conquer the world," I say honestly. "Or at least the greater Stone River Mountain area."
Beau looks out the window and smiles. "And I know just the place to celebrate. Come on."
Beau helps me down the steps and wraps his coat around me, leading me across the sidewalk and into the most gorgeous little restaurant I've ever seen.
Exposed brick walls are lined with vintage photographs of the town, while mismatched antique chairs surround tables made from reclaimed barn wood. Edison bulb chandeliers cast warm, golden light over everything, and the air smells like fresh herbs and garlic.
Beau takes charge and soon, we're seated at a corner table with cushioned booth seating that's clearly been loved for decades.
"This place is incredible," I breathe, taking in every detail. "How did you find it?"
"Sarah opened it about two years ago," Beau says, unfolding his napkin. "She's from New Mexico originally. Wanted to bring some southwestern flair to the mountains."
As if summoned by her name, a woman with kind eyes and graying hair approaches our table. She's wearing a colorful apron over jeans and a flowing blouse, and when she sees Beau, her face lights up.
"Beau Callahan! What a lovely surprise." Her eyes shift to me with undisguised curiosity. "And you must be the famous Molly we've all been hearing about."
Famous?
I shoot a look at Beau, who has the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"Small town," he mutters and shrugs those huge shoulders of his.
"I'm Sarah," the woman continues, extending her hand. "Welcome to Adele & Pinto. Can I start you two with some drinks? We have a wonderful local wine from Mountain View Vineyards, or perhaps some sparkling water infused with fresh citrus?"
"The local wine sounds perfect," I say, glancing at Beau who nods in agreement.
"Excellent choice," Sarah beams. "It's a beautiful Pinot Noir, very smooth. And for food, might I suggest our winter special? It's a green chili mac and cheese with locally sourced cheese and house-made chorizo, served with fresh sourdough bread."
My mouth literally waters. "That sounds incredible."
"It is," Beau confirms. "Sarah's green chili mac is legendary around here."
"Flatterer," Sarah laughs, but she's clearly pleased with the compliment from the town's biggest grump. "I'll get that wine started and give you two a few more minutes to decide."
As she walks away, I lean across the table toward Beau. "Okay, I have to ask. How does everyone in this town already know about me? I've been here less than a week."
Beau shifts uncomfortably. "Like I said, small town. Word travels fast."
Sarah returns with two elegant glasses of deep red wine that catches the light beautifully. She sets them down, the rich burgundy liquid swirling gently in the crystal.
"Mountain View's finest," she announces proudly. "They use grapes grown right here in the valley."
I take a sip and close my eyes as the smooth, complex flavors dance across my tongue. It's perfectly balanced—not too sweet, with hints of cherry and oak that warm me from the inside out.
"This is incredible," I tell Sarah, who again preens under the praise.
"The mountain soil gives it something special," she says with pride.
We order the green chile mac and cheese, and while we wait, I find myself relaxing in a way I haven't in... God, maybe years.