“Yeah.”
He opened the passenger door and stood there, waiting.
This was it. The moment. The point of no return.
I looked at Lou, who gave me an encouraging nod.
And then I climbed into the truck. Or I tried to. There were no running boards. Why would there be? He certainly didn’t need them. Before I could comment or make a graceless attempt at mounting the black beast, I felt hands on each side of my waist.
His hands felt like they were spanning my entire waist, which was impossible. What I didn’t imagine was the feel of those fingers squeezing my flesh like he was testing the yield of ripe, heavy fruit. He leaned over and buckled me in, his hand brushed along my stomach and I sucked it in, which earned me a dark look.
Don’t suck it in. Sucking it in is the universal female sign of I care what you think. I did not care what he thought.
I cared a lot what he thought.
Dammit.
The door shut with a solid thunk.
Bridger slid into the driver’s seat, taking up too much space. And what was that smell? His damn shampoo?
He started the engine.
We pulled onto the street, past the general store and the diner and the town square where his half-finished sculpture stood.
I snuck a glance at him. Strong hands on the wheel. Corded forearms dusted with dark hair. The way his jaw flexed when he shifted gears.
“How far is your place?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes of charming small talk. Can’t wait.”
His mouth twitched. “I don’t do small talk.”
“Shocking. I never would have guessed.”
“You done?”
“Done with what?” I smiled at him. “Oh, the small talk? Sorry, I’m just getting started.”
Once outside of town, he turned onto a winding road that climbed into the mountains. The road twisted and dipped, and every sharp turn sent my soft thighs sliding slightly against the leather seat. I braced my foot against the floorboards, trying not to jiggle like a bowl of Jell-O on a bumpy tractor ride.
The silence between us was not uncomfortable, exactly. Just... aware.
“What are you carving?” I asked. “In the square?”
“A bear.”
“A bear?” I repeated. Apparently, sitting next to a giant mountain man had erased by normal tantalizing small talk.
“Grizzly. For the town. They commissioned it last month.”
“That’s actually really cool.”
He glanced at me. “You think so?”
“Yeah. I mean, chainsaw sculpture? That takes serious skill.”