32. Dane
32
DANE
The car stalls. Reese dissolves into laughter, the sweet and husky notes filling the small space as she struggles to stop. “This is why manuals are being phased out.”
“That’s because people these days have no appreciation for how a car is meant to be driven,” I retort, and amusement tugs at my lips when she tips her head back and cackles harder.
Her eyes have a glittery quality to them as she finds my gaze. Her cheeks possess a healthy glow. Her mouth spreads into a wild grin when the seconds slip by without either of us looking away.
At last, she swivels forward and starts over. With her hand on the gearshift, she shifts into first gear only for the engine to abruptly stop turning again.
“Baby,” I say, “release the clutch slowly.”
“Are you talking to me or the car?” she teases, then bursts into giggles when I run my hand across the dashboard in a slow caress.
“She doesn’t understand what we’ve been through, baby girl,” I drawl, and my girl huffs out a snort.
“Shall I leave you two alone?” Reese asks dryly.
“How about we get her to the other side of the parking lot?” I lean back and smirk at her. “Now, release?—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her brows knit with concentration on her next attempt, and suddenly, she shrieks. “ I did it !”
“Fuck yeah, you did!”
“Your bike’s next!” Reese sings, beaming so brightly that I’m momentarily transfixed by a specific crinkle forming around her mouth. It remains there as she takes a ridiculously slow lap around the abandoned lot.
I chuckle. “You should worry about getting your license first.”
“That’s almost a month away,” she reminds me. “It’s only the written test this weekend.”
“Soon, you won’t need me to drive you home,” I remark, and she shakes her head.
“I mean, I still have a bus pass,” she says matter-of-factly. “Oh, before I forget, thanks for trusting me with your baby girl .”
“Everybody should know how to drive a stick shift,” comes my immediate response, and she snorts as she takes the vehicle out of gear and switches the engine off.
Before I can say a word, something drops in my lap. My peripheral vision observes her shoving her hand back into her coat pocket and feigning interest in the material of her dress underneath.
“An early Christmas present.” Her voice is a notch below a whisper. “It’s nothing flashy.”
I pick up the Hot Wheels: a Chevy Nova painted in a familiar yellow-green color. I automatically lose the fight against my crooked smile.
“It’s a thank-you gift for everything,” she continues, letting out a soft exhalation. She still won’t look at me. She’s tracing a star on her knee. “I know it’s not a convertible?—”
“I’ll keep it on me.” The toy car is pocketed within a heartbeat, clanking against my janky phone. “I’ll take it everywhere I go.”
“You don’t have to.” She glances over. “It’s nothing special.”
“It’s from my Reese’s Pieces,” I say. “Therefore, it’s pretty special to me.”
Her breath hitches as her features soften into that sweet, shy smile.
“Unfortunately, what I have for you isn’t on me,” I continue, and I’m met with a frown. “Figured it’d be a good way to celebrate you kicking the final’s ass, too.”
Technically, the semester hasn’t ended yet, but there’s no point in bringing that up. Not when she’s peering at me with those starry-soft eyes.
“Really, Dane.” She leans over and presses a gentle kiss to my temple. “You don’t have to get me anything. Especially if it’s a back tattoo . Teaching me how to drive is more than enough.”
I don’t get a chance to respond when she pulls away and hops out of my Mustang. Without having any trouble with the handle. There’s a first for everything.
Releasing a sigh, I exit the vehicle and catch her in my arms before we can trade back seats. My lips find hers before she can even blink, stealing her gasp with an urgent and incessant kiss. Her fingers twine in my hair, and she giggles when she finds herself caged beneath me on the hood of my car.
“For your fiesta.” I gesture broadly while Reese takes in the lobby with wide eyes. Red and gold ornaments glitter on a massive two-story Christmas tree in the center of the room. The walls are adorned with tinsel. Above us hangs a crystal chandelier. It’s not my scene by far, but I knew Reese would get a kick out of it.
“My fiesta is gonna have so many amazing pictures,” she agrees, tilting her phone back to capture the star on top of the tree. Then she leans even further back to snap a photo of the chandelier.
Instinctively, my arm hooks around her waist and tugs her to me before a kid knocks into her. The place is crawling with people trickling in and out of the place, which isn’t a surprise. The Westbrook Resort has always been one of the fanciest joints I’ve ever stepped foot in.
Her breathing is a little unsteady as she gives me a sheepish smile. “You didn’t just bring me here to take pictures, did you?” She’s not exactly subtle when she sneaks one of me.
I pluck her phone, blatantly take a photo of her while she splutters, and pass it back. “Nah. We’re here for what’s outside.”
“The beach?” She lifts a brow. “We’re not skinny dipping.”
“Aw, fuck, I should’ve thought of that.” My hand goes to the small of her back. With a gentle nudge, I steer her toward one of the exits. “In fact?—”
“It’s December. We’re not risking hypothermia,” she hisses, only for her eyes to go wide a beat later.
“But any other month is fine?” I tease, but she remains rooted to the spot.
Finally, she swivels toward me, her mouth falling ajar as she meets my gaze. “An ice skating rink?”
“Do you know how to skate?” I ask and smile crookedly when she offers me a tiny head shake. “Perfect.”
“How is that perfect?” Her attention pivots back to the attraction. The glow of the lanterns strung above the beachfront rink shines like stars in her eyes.
“Two hours of a pretty girl clinging to me sounds like a perfect time. Fantastic, even.” With a grin, I steer her straight to the gate.
Once we’ve swapped our shoes for rental skates, I help her onto the ice. Her arms shake the whole time.
“You know how to skate?” she marvels, and a startled yelp escapes her when she wobbles.
“Who doesn’t?” I tease, eliciting an exaggerated scowl from her. “Played some hockey when I was a kid.”
“You played hockey?” she gasps. “Why did you stop?”
My shoulder hitches in a shrug. “Got pretty hurt one year and didn’t feel like it anymore.”
She nods, then sucks in a breath when a few kids nearly careen into us coming from the opposite direction. I think she’s cutting off circulation in my hand with the viselike death grip she’s got going on.
“You won’t die if you fall on the ice,” I tell her. Never mind, she’s definitely cutting off the blood flow in my fingers now.
“I wouldn’t fall on the ice if I weren’t on the ice,” she wheezes.
“I won’t let you fall.”
“Swear on your life.” Somehow, she squeezes me even tighter as I guide her toward the center where there’s less traffic.
“I swear on my life, my bike, and my cars,” I say. “Here, let me teach you the basics.”
Her bottom lip worries between her teeth as she peers up at me. Soon enough, her hesitation gives way to an unwavering amount of trust. It steals across her face as she allows her fingers to flex and slip from mine.
A startled shriek breaks free as her arms immediately flail. My reflexes kick in instantaneously, and I catch her by the elbow.
“See?” I steady her and offer her a half-smile. “You’re a pro already.”
“Wait.” She whips her phone out. I don’t get a chance to blink when the flash goes off.
“You know, I’m curious here.” I readjust my hold so that I’m not wrinkling her coat sleeve. “What do you even do with all the photos you take of me? Because I know it’s not going on your fiesta, where your sister might see it.”
“I don’t post every picture I take,” she states. “Most of them are just for me.”
“Got it. They’re all going into your personal spank bank.”
She nearly topples over, but I catch her again and bring her body closer to mine.
“ No .” She pockets her cell and spares me a tiny frown. “I just like having them. They’re memories of things I can always come back to. And it’s nice to have pictures of you looking…”
“Sexy?” I supply.
“Happy.”
My breath stalls in my lungs, and my heartbeat echoes in my ears as she carefully straightens herself.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I’m ready to knock my teeth out when I fall.”
My voice is gruff when I find it. “You won’t fall.” I clear my throat. “I won’t let it happen.”
Slowly, I let her go. For the next half hour, I show her the ropes. Catch her by the elbow or the material of her coat if needed. Spin her around once like we’re a pair of figure skaters. I even demonstrate how to properly fall and lose the fight against my grin when she breaks into a husky peal of laughter as she lands ungracefully on her ass.
She’s still giggling when I skate backward, showing off some impressive skills for someone as rusty as me. Skidding to a stop the instant I’m on the other side of the rink, my arm stretches wide.
“Come on, Mini Reese! Let’s see you fly!”
I’m unable to keep the corners of my mouth from tipping up at the sight of her moving at the speed of molasses. She’s fucking cute.
“I’m doing it!” she shrieks. Her pace barely picks up by a small margin.
“Fuck yeah, you are!”
There’s the sweetest beam I’ve ever seen on her face as she comes within reach. At once, her smile falters. “Wait, how do I st?—”
She smacks into me. Instinctively, I brace my arms around her and let myself fall backward. My ass hits the ice first. My head thumps against the cold surface next.
“Oh my God,” she wheezes, prying her cheek from my chest to find my gaze. “I’m so sorry.” Her expression is nothing but worry as she searches my eyes. Her body goes stock-still when the rough pad of my thumb runs across her temple.
I brush the loose strands of hair out of her face and register her soft intake of breath.
A stupid grin breaks across my face as my hand slides to the back of her neck and tangles in her wavy tresses. Lanterns twinkle behind her, bathing her in a warm, atmospheric glow.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, and she lets out a shaky laugh as I draw her in.
“I think you have a concussion,” she protests with a smile, and her nose brushes against mine before our mouths slant together.
I tug her closer, and she melts into me. My other arm barely circles her waist when a chorus of high-pitched heckles startles her, and she pulls away. Children scatter when I shoot them a withering glare.
“Damn brats,” I grumble as she sheepishly untangles herself from my embrace. The fragrance of her coconut shampoo lingers while she carefully rises to her full height.
“Can you teach me how to stop this time?” she asks, and I look up and find myself ensnared.
I wish I could grab her phone and capture a picture of her at this very moment, with the lanterns still backlighting her in a hazy-soft glow and her eyes glittering more beautifully than the night stars above us.
Instead, I memorize every little detail, push up to my feet, and skate a lazy circle around her. “You got it.”