Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AS WE SETTLE INTO ALEX’S SUV, he hands me an iced coffee. “Grande cold brew, vanilla cold foam, light ice.”
I take the cup from him, staring in awe. “How did you know?”
“You only go through a dozen a week.”
The gesture tugs at my heart. And now I feel like a complete ass because I have no idea what he drinks. I hold up my cup. “Cheers.”
He grins, picking up a venti iced tea, and taps my coffee. “Cheers, August. You ready to hit the road?”
“Let’s go,” I say eagerly.
His eyes crinkle at the edges, that same smile taking me back to the day he got his license and took me and Charlie for a joyride in his clunky Civic.
Alex looked so mature behind the wheel, the wind rustling his dark hair.
The next two years involved nonstop fantasies of him taking me for rides without Charlie.
Finding a deserted spot and climbing into the backseat together.
Making out. Doing other stuff. I choke on a laugh, immediately covering it with a cough.
I had no idea what kind of other stuff. I was beyond clueless about sex.
Bless little fourteen-year-old Junie’s heart.
“You all right?” Alex asks, merging onto the freeway.
I nod, but the moment he accelerates, the familiar vibrations begin their devious crescendo under my lap.
Shit.
“Tell me about your other job,” I blurt out, desperate for the distraction. Because if I’m left alone with my thoughts for the next three hours—especially these thoughts—every bump and divot is going to drive me to the edge of oblivion without release.
He glances at me sideways, a hint of challenge in his voice. “You really want to know?”
Obviously. I’m dying to know. I nod vigorously. “Yes. Tell me everything.”
“Okay.” His eyes crease with amusement. “For the past two years, I’ve been working as an epidemiologic field officer. When there are disease outbreaks, like clusters of measles or West Nile or chlamydia, I’m the lead investigator.”
I can’t help but notice the wide smile that splits his face.
“I trace the exposures and meet with the affected parties. We talk about risk reduction and ways to stay safe. I can’t say too much more because of confidentiality and HIPAA, but I really love working with people. And helping keep their communities safe.”
Wow. From his first medical mission, I always knew Alex would do great things with his life. Even when we were younger, he was always helping people.
He glances in the rearview, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“I have a presentation Tuesday night. I’m a little nervous.
Not only will all the bigwigs from the county health department be there, but I just got word that someone from the CDC is Zooming in.
My boss put a call in and told them that I’d applied. ”
My jaw drops. “That’s amazing!” I reach over the center console, giving him a playful shove. “Isn’t your boss going to miss you when you leave?”
He shrugs. “She knows this is what I’ve been working toward. Like I said before, pipe dream.”
And that pipe dream is surely going to be a reality.
It’s not a question of if, but when. Because when Alex puts his mind to something, nothing can stop him.
As happy as I am for him, I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the prospect of him moving so far away.
I know it’s dumb, but I actually thought we might have had a chance this time.
I push the thoughts down. He deserves nothing but my support.
“So Tuesday, huh?” I say tentatively. “You ready?”
“I guess? I finished the presentation a few weeks ago, then went back through it once I heard about the Zoom request from Atlanta.”
A car swerves into our lane, and Alex slams on the brakes. He throws his arm out in front of me, bracing me as I lurch forward. It’s so primal, it makes my breath hitch.
“You okay?” He glances at me, his forearm now hovering in front of me, still close enough to feel his body heat.
I’m so stunned, I can only nod in response. I thought I was turned on before, but now I’m fantasizing about straddling him in the driver’s seat.
Dammit, June. Get a grip.
He lowers his hand, returning it to the wheel, but then he squints at something up ahead and eases on the brakes.
“Hang on,” he says as the SUV hits a series of defects in the road, making the car bounce and buzz in a staccato rhythm that feels dangerously close to the highest setting on my vibrator.
Oh, god. I’m not going to make it. I need a distraction. A big one.
“You want to practice your presentation?” My voice comes out huskier than a phone sex operator.
His eyes light up. “Really?”
God, yes. Listening to something as nonsexual as disease outbreaks is exactly what I need.
I nod eagerly. “If you want, I can drive so you can pull up your slide deck.”
I’m not prepared for the blissful moment that follows. Alex looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. For a glimmer of a second, I’m not Charlie’s little sister, the annoying tagalong. He’s really seeing me.
His fingers grind against the steering wheel, then he brings his gaze back to mine. “That would be great.”
It turns out that simultaneously dealing with shitty drivers, colossal traffic, and listening to details about disease symptoms, outbreaks, and interventions is enough to take anyone’s horny away, regardless of the road vibrations. My nether regions are completely disengaged.
Though we’re only forty minutes east of San Diego, there’s been nothing but farmland for the last twenty miles.
When we reach the small college town of La Crenata, it’s like we’ve entered another world.
The main drag leading up to the campus looks like an honest-to-goodness old-fashioned Main Street, though it’s called Oak Creek Road.
There’s a diner, something that can only be described as a general store, a lodge, and at the end of the road, the campus.
Alex glances out the passenger window and eyes the diner. “Want to stop for lunch?” As if on cue, his stomach rumbles. “I’m starving.”
I check the dash clock. It’s a little before two. “What time are we supposed to meet the professor at Cain?”
“Not until three.”
“Sure, we have time.”
I pull into the small parking lot for the café. There are only three other cars in the entire lot.
When we enter the diner, a waitress leads us through the empty restaurant to a large booth, and the vinyl squeaks as we slide in.
She drops laminated menus on the table and returns a few moments later with two waters and an entire basket of pickles. The pungent sourness hits me right in my gag reflex, and Alex stifles a laugh.
“I forgot how much you hate pickles.”
That’s a colossal understatement. I never want to yuck anyone’s yum, but seriously—barf.
I pick up the menu. I don’t know how I missed it, but their logo is a pickle with arms and legs.
He looks like Mr. Peanut’s less refined cousin.
My brow furrows as I glance around the restaurant.
It’s loaded with pickle decor. Pickle wallpaper.
Pickle curtains. The green barstools are even painted to look like pickle chips.
Dear god, this is my own personal hell.
The waitress circles back to our table. “Y’all ready to order?”
I’m ready for Alex to order pickles to the extreme, like he and Charlie always used to do when we were kids.
I can already hear him: I’ll have a burger with extra pickles, pickled relish, and a side of fried pickles.
Would it be possible to get a glass of pickle juice? That would really hit the spot.
I glare at him, and he flashes me a knowing grin. His lips part and I brace for impact. But to my surprise, he hands the basket back to the waitress. “We won’t be needing these.”
My jaw slackens, shock no doubt written all over my face.
The waitress deposits the pickles on the table behind us and readies her order pad.
“I’ll take a cheeseburger, no pickles,” Alex says, handing her back the menu.
Seriously? Who is he?
“Same.” I smile and she nods, collecting the basket as she departs.
“You don’t like pickles anymore?” I ask skeptically.
“No, I do.” His lips curve, but before I can savor the gesture, he shrugs. “Just don’t want you puking all over the table.”
Charming.
We finish lunch and head up the lone road to the campus. Back in the driver’s seat, Alex checks the university map on his phone, then pulls into a spot near the school of public health. “Do you think we need a parking pass?” he asks as I exit the vehicle.
“No?” I swivel my head in every direction, but there’s not a soul in sight.
“It’s like a ghost town here.” A gust of fall air rolls through, and it chills me through my jeans.
I rub my hands over my bare arms. It’s a lot cooler down here than in LA.
I wish I had brought a jacket. “Where is everyone?”
“Fall break,” Alex says, trudging up the dirt walkway that leads to the quad. “The professor is doing us a huge favor by meeting us today.”
I glance up at the towering pine trees. It smells so fresh out here, something I’ve never noticed living so close to so many freeways. It’s just different here. Like we’re off the grid. Another brisk breeze curls through the air, and I hug my arms tighter around myself.
Alex gives me a once-over. “Shit, you didn’t bring a jacket, did you?”
I shake my head, and he peels off his green sweater, leaving him in a dark gray T-shirt. A very form-fitting, obscenely hot gray t-shirt.
“Alex, no. I don’t want you to be cold.”
“I’m fine,” he says, handing me the cozy garment, still warm from his body heat. Another chill rushes through me, but this time, not from the weather.
It’s. So. Soft.
It takes all my self-control not to rub my face on it.
And fuck, it smells just like the sweatshirt in its prime.
I slip it over my head, sharply inhaling while my face is hidden under the fabric.
Fresh detergent and a hint of cologne. I tug it down over my hips, and just like when I was twelve, it’s huge on me. “Thanks.”