4. Chapter 4 #2
“I don’t think so,” she replied sweetly. “You can hear it for yourself. It’s right outside.”
She left without looking back to see if he would follow, but she was confident that he would. Men could not resist the siren call of her car.
And she was right. Neil was only a minute behind her. He clipped her shoulder as he made a tour of the car. She tried not to bristle when he, without asking, opened the hood to check out her engine.
Zephyr stomped over, placing a hand on his chest to push him away from her car. “You need to ask a girl to dinner first.”
“Leave the two of us alone, and I will,” he said, nodding to the car. “She looks good in red.”
“As do I,” Zephyr quipped. Was she jealous of her own car? That would be ridiculous. But…maybe?
Neil looked at her, brows lowered. “You don’t need me to tell you that.” She waited for more, bit her bottom lip to keep from fishing for it, but Neil fell silent.
She opened the passenger door, ignoring the angry ruffle of feathers that came from her cup holder.
“Get in.” Neil actually took a step backward.
She ignored him, getting into the driver’s seat.
“Finnegan, you said you wanted to hear the noise,” she sang, reaching over to pat the other seat. “I don’t bite. Promise.”
“You’re no vampire,” Neil said dryly as he shockingly entered the car. He clicked his seatbelt and stared at her familiar as Dale tweeted at the intruder from his cup holder nest of napkins. “But I think you do bite.”
Zephyr flashed her teeth at him in response.
Neil scoffed and asked, “When does this sound happen—”
They sped forward, leaving Pumpkin Hollow far behind them in just a few minutes.
THE ASSHOLE TURNED HER RADIO OFF.
“Hey!” She swiped at his hand. “Passengers don’t get opinions on the music, or anything , really. They sit and look pretty. Quietly.”
He covered the volume knob, undeterred. “I thought the point of this was to diagnose your car. Or are the Greatest Hits of the 70s more important?”
“You should know the answer to that.” She reached for the knob again, but he was unmoved.
He lectured, “Eyes on the road.”
“I know exactly where I’m going.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he argued.
“And when are you going to stop holding that against me?” she shot back.
He didn’t have a smart remark for that. Zephyr continued with her plan, following the worn roads, avoiding the potholes that still hadn’t been fixed, before she pulled off onto a dirt road that wove through a mix of empty fields and clusters of trees.
“Excuse me,” she said, reaching for the glove box.
She clicked it open, grabbed a pair of black fingerless gloves, and snapped it shut.
Her gloves unnerved him. Neil muttered, “If you brought me out here to murder me and leave me in a ditch, I’d suggest gloves that cover your fingerprints.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I promise you I wouldn’t leave you in a ditch. I’d bury you, at least.”
“Hilarious. But what are we doing here? And…” Neil watched her put her gloves on. “Did your bird just smirk at me?”
Zephyr laughed. “Dale’s a bird. Birds can’t smirk.”
“No, he’s definitely smirking.” Neil leaned back as Dale flew from the cup holder and burrowed into the pocket on the left side of Neil’s coveralls. His red head popped up from the pocket, peeking out. “Hang on—”
Zephyr interrupted, “Seatbelt on?”
“Yes, but—”
Her father had known the man who used to work these fields. She had learned to drive here, on these winding farm roads. She wouldn’t normally subject her Pontiac to light off-roading, but a man had pissed her off. And she had amazing insurance.
She drove, taking the first turn at a speed that sent gooseflesh racing up her arms. Neil’s hand landed on her thigh after that turn, unintentionally, she assumed. He was searching, panicked, for something to hold on to.
“I’m not helping you push if you get us stuck!” Neil shouted. He removed his hand, but Zephyr slapped it back into place with an exhilarated scream. “Zephyr, keep both hands on the damn wheel!”
On the next turn, the tires lost traction, and they slid over a few feet. The side of her car nearly clipped a tree. She vowed to be more careful—the nature witches would have her head if took out a tree. “You can’t get stuck if you don’t slow down!”
“That’s not remotely true!”
She could only laugh as they raced around the field and the woods. Gods, how she had missed this. Without her new fear of heights getting in the way, she felt as though the entire world was open to her. “I used to always feel like this,” she said, and she immediately regretted it.
Neil acted as if he hadn’t heard her. He complained, “You drive like a maniac.” He squeezed her thigh for emphasis.
Zephyr stuck her head out the window, face turned upward to the sky.
Gray clouds rolled in, and a static in the air tickled her skin.
She finally slowed down, nearly satisfied.
Without the threat of her driving keeping it there, Neil’s hand left her thigh.
She mourned the loss of warmth, the touch of another, and, of course, blamed the weakness on her ex.
She pulled back onto the main road, the only way out of Pumpkin Hollow. Neither of them spoke until she parked again, this time after taking a gravel road to a popular picnic and hiking site.
With the stormy weather, the parking lot was almost deserted.
There were only a few empty cars, belonging to the intense hikers who didn’t care about getting rained on or about having a good time.
Zephyr parked and immediately hopped out.
She eyed a wooden sign, finding the marker for Witch’s Leap, and climbed the short trail until its end.
Her parents used to free-climb this cliff—adrenaline junkies, both of them.
Zephyr toed the edge of the white stone, leaning over to peer into the drop that was covered by branches painted with orange and red leaves.
She just hovered there, her breath coming fainter and fainter until an arm snaked around her waist.
She needed the anchor, but she hated that Neil knew that.
The laps in her car had brought back that old rush, that surge of freedom and confidence that flying used to give her.
She had hoped looking over the ledge would have the same effect.
Instead, her stomach sank like a stone, and her head grew dizzy.
She was afraid of falling. Falling ! An air witch couldn’t have a more shameful thought than that.
Neil huffed into her ear, her annoyed savior. “We need to get back to the car. A storm is on the way, and I can’t call it off. Mother Nature doesn’t like to bow to magic, and she rarely makes exceptions for men.” He pulled Zephyr gently from the edge until she was back on the trail.
“Good for her,” she mumbled.
Neil eyed her, and she suddenly didn’t feel as victorious as she had hoped. She wanted to break through his white-knuckled mask, not give him even more insight into her mental state. “I haven’t been to Witch’s Leap since I was seventeen. You know this is just a make-out spot, right?”
“ What ?” She hadn’t known that. Her teenaged years had been spent training. Flying. Preparing for a future that hadn’t lasted as long as she had hoped.
He nodded. “Is that why you brought me here? You’re a decade too late.”
She snorted. He was funny. Especially delivering quips in that even voice of his. “So, it’s only my timing that’s off. Good to know.”
He stopped short of her car. “What the hell is all this about? You pretend your car needs maintenance—”
“That might be true now.”
“You nearly killed us in a field—”
She rolled her eyes. “Exaggeration. I’m an incredible driver.”
“And now, a cliff? It’s dangerous standing on the edge like that. Even for someone like you. What are you doing, Zephyr?”
“ I don’t know .” That admission was too honest, and she hated herself for it.
Dale peeped sadly, still half in Neil’s pocket.
She continued, “I was pissed at you. For being right. I don’t want to slow down.
I never have. I want to keep moving, but I’m stuck and you’re the only one in this town that…
that…sees that. I want you to stop looking . ”
Unexpectedly, Neil flushed a pretty pink after hearing her demand, and she took it as a victory. Finally, she had made him feel something .
“Do you really want me to stop looking?”
She nearly missed his quiet question. She rubbed the back of her neck as she considered. “There’s not much to look at anymore.”
“I don’t believe that you believe that,” Neil said. “Keep tormenting me—hells, you can even hex me, but don’t say that again. You’re the cockiest witch I’ve ever met. Don’t argue—take it as a compliment.”
His no-nonsense voice, atonal as it was, made such declarations sound final. She wanted to agree with him—he was waiting for that. But the storm was making her old injuries ache, and she was gods-blessed tired.
The minutes passed awkwardly. Neil looked uncomfortable as he asked, “Do you want me to drive back?”
That snapped her out of her melancholy. “Gods, I’m not that wretched.” She shooed him away from the steering wheel and took her rightful place in the driver’s seat.