CHAPTER 29
Finn
“I’m going with them,” I announce.
Because someone’s got to shield Emma from Summer’s potentially lethal enthusiasm.
From what little I know of Emma, she’s a city girl.
She’s probably not used to dealing with this kind of wild child.
Without someone running interference, Summer will try to convince Emma to bungee jump off a cliff face or ride a bull to the top of Mount Grant.
“Summer! Give me five minutes to sign some papers and I’ll ride with you!”
“Rock on!” Summer holds both hands in the air, pinky and index fingers extended. “I call shotgun!”
“Evander, come with me,” I tell him. “I got a horse to purchase.”
A bit later, the breeder’s rep is leaving the ranch, Joe is leading our new filly to her luxury stable, and I’m squeezed into the back seat of the Toyota Tercel with my knees up to my ears.
Summer is off the charts excited about teaching Emma how to drive.
She likes projects, whether they’re horses or newcomers to the ranch.
And she sees Emma’s lack of a driver’s license as her next undertaking.
Emma takes her place in the driver’s seat and adjusts the mirror.
She sees me in the reflection and pauses, pink flushing her cheeks.
I like that she’s quick to blush. It must be because her skin is so pale.
And I wonder if she’s pale everywhere, and if she will blush from head to toe with pleasure when she’s underneath me.
I want to see that. Touch that. Kiss it. Lick it.
“By the time you get to the DMV, you’ll know how to drive,” Summer announces. “Remember what I told you about the traffic rules. They tend to like rules at the DMV, and they will test you on them.”
Emma moans softly. “Don’t I need to make an appointment for this?”
“Not here,” I tell her. “There’s one guy who works at the local office, and he’s got a crush on Summer, so we can get whatever we want.”
“What bullshit, Finn.” Summer doesn’t blush. I’ve never seen Summer blush, and I’ve known her since she was a kid.
Emma starts the motor and puts the car into drive. I note how that her hands shake as she grips the steering wheel.
“You’re throttling that steering wheel like it’s a turkey neck,” Summer says.
“Take a deep breath,” I suggest. Emma’s shoulders rise and fall, and light shimmers in her dark hair. “Summer’s right. By the time we get there, you’ll know how to drive. And having a license will help you do your job.”
She nods, her eyes catching mine in the mirror. “But what if I’m not good at it?”
I smile at her reflection. “You can’t be any worse a driver than Summer, so no worries.”
“Finn’s a jokester,” Summer tells Emma. “He wishes he could drive like me. He crashed a Humvee in Afghanistan.”
“To be fair, I had just clipped a buried explosive,” I say.
“My point exactly. He ran over a bomb and then he crashed his ride—two stupid moves in a row! You can’t do worse than that, so just put your foot on the gas and drive. I’m in the mood for a nice midday drive through the countryside.”
Emma makes a U-turn. It takes a lot longer than it should, but she gets us turned where we need to go, then lurches down the lane. She hesitates before turning onto the main road.
“You got this,” I say.
The more she drives, the more confidence she has, and by the time we get to town, Emma is driving as well as anyone, even with the never-ending loop of driving tips Summer is kind enough to provide.
The DMV is in a squat wood and adobe building that’s over a hundred years old. Allegedly, it was a Chinese laundry during the town’s Wild West years. We pull up to see Melvin sitting in an old rocking chair on the front sidewalk.
Emma parks the car. The front right wheel is perched on the sidewalk.
“Whoops,” she says.
Summer pats her shoulder. “We’ll work on parking after you pass your test.”
Melvin doesn’t notice the sidewalk parking mishap. He doesn’t notice me or Emma, either. All he sees is Summer.
It takes a few minutes for Summer to redirect the lovesick dude to the business at hand. He’s loopy, a stunned smile plastered on his face as he fans through forms and duplicates and shuffles papers. He practically slobbers all over Summer. She’s oblivious and keeps barking orders at poor Melvin.
“We’re in a hurry,” Summer tells him. “We just need to get her a driver’s license and be done with it.”
“Who needs a license?”
Summer points to Emma.
“Oh. I didn’t see you there.”
Emma’s been standing next to me with a serious case of the jitters. Her toe is tapping. She’s biting her lip and looking around. Her face is even paler than usual.
I lean in to whisper in her ear. “You’ll do just fine.”
That might have been a mistake.
Being so close to Emma gives me an opportunity to inhale her scent. It’s clean and sensual and shooting straight into my bloodstream. It’s a punch in my gut. A kick in my ass.
I want this woman so fucking bad.
“I didn’t study for this test, and I’m not a great test-taker,” she whispers back. Her voice quivers.
“It’s pretty basic,” I assure her. “Like, ‘how many sides does a stop sign have?’”
Her eyes widen. “How many sides?” She looks up at me, frowning. “You mean like the front and back?”
I almost laugh. But she’s not joking. This isn’t a good sign.
“Oh.” She gives me a tentative smile. “They want drivers to know that there’s eight forty-five-degree isosceles triangles in an octagon. Got it.” She taps the side of her head.
Okay, that’s interesting.
She could have just said “eight” and been done with it. But instead, her brain went to the details. That means in addition to being beautiful, sweet, and a badass in the kitchen, Emma is a smart cookie. But I don’t think she’s formally educated. I’m not sure what picture that paints.
But I am sure I will figure it out. I’ll discover what makes Emma Clark tick.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” My face still hovers just inches from her ear.
She turns to face me, dark eyes flashing. She places both hands on my upper arms and squeezes. I want to lower my mouth to hers. I want to leave a trail of kisses down her throat, across her breasts and belly, and flick my tongue…
“I’m doing this.” She lifts her chin and looks into my eyes. “I’ve wanted a license forever, and there was always a reason I couldn’t or someone who told me I shouldn’t. But I’m here now and I have an opportunity. I’m going for it.”
Her determination—and how she’s grabbing on to me—makes my dick as hard as cryptographic algorithms.
I’m about ready to ravish her right here in the Sweetbriar, Nevada, DMV, and I’m pretty sure that would result in a hefty fine. But it would be worth it.
I can’t, though.
Summer’s working awfully hard to get Melvin to bend the rules. I just heard the man agree that our vouching for Emma is all he needs. To hell with all those silly rules about proof of identification and residence.
So I don’t ravish. Not here and not now.