What the hell am I doing?

It takes two attempts to get the keys in the ignition. Ford is too close, looking entirely too sinful, and smelling way too freaking good to think clearly.

In my little car, he completely dominates the space. It’s like my brain refuses to work with him in the passenger’s seat next to me. Where he could reach out and touch me. And move his fingers to my—

“Ellie?”

“Ah!” I say, jumping back in my seat. My hands clasp over my heart as it stalls in my chest. “You scared me!”

“Saying your name?” he laughs. “What on Earth is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes in hopes he doesn’t see me blush. “Where is Sienna?”

He gives me the address, and I pull out onto the street. We drive for a few miles with no sound besides the radio quietly playing a hip-hop station Violet had on this morning.

“Do you listen to this?” he asks, turning the sound up. “This is horrible.”

“It was all Violet,” I laugh. “I usually listen to country.”

“I knew I loved you.”

Pressing a swallow, I try to let those words go in one ear and out the other. I’m sure it was just a slip of the tongue, a casual use of words people say each and every day.

I knew I loved you.

I gulp again.

A song by a popular artist comes on the radio and he taps his foot against the floorboard in rhythm. The insistent tip-tap begins to drive me up the wall.

“Okay,” I say, flipping off the radio. “Let’s talk.”

“Okay. Let’s talk,” he repeats.

“What are you? A canary?”

“A canary?” he laughs. “You mean a parrot.”

“No, a canary. Canaries talk.”

“Do they? I don’t think so.”

“Look it up,” I laugh. “We had a canary when I was little and it talked.”

He gives me the cutest, silliest look. “I’m sure it did.”

I smack him on the shoulder. That’s all it takes for the air to shift. He must feel it too because he cranks up the air conditioner.

“I’ve been hot all fucking day,” he grumbles.

I want to comment that he looks fucking hot every time I see him. I could make a note about how hard his shoulder just was when I hit him and how I’d like to roam my hands down his biceps and feel him flex his body while he’s up against mine. Or on mine. Or under mine. Or inside mine.

“Hey!” he laughs, grabbing the top of the steering wheel. “Pay attention or I’ll drive.”

The car evens back out as I feel every ounce of blood rush to my face. “Sorry.”

“You feeling okay today?” he grins. “You’re flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are,” he whistles. “I keep thinking about last night.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually,” I gulp.

Glancing at him over my shoulder, there’s a look of surprise on his face.

“I don’t know what came over me,” I start.

“I know what came over me. All over me, actually …”

“Damn it, Ford,” I blush. “Stop.”

“Fine. I’m sorry. Continue.”

He’s not sorry. Not a bit. The smirk set deep in his cheeks tells the truth.

Sighing, I take a left towards the salon.

“Look, El. I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I’m not sorry about what happened,” he says. “If you want me to say it was a mistake or apologize for something—”

“No,” I say hurriedly. “I, um, I don’t want you to apologize. I just didn’t expect that to happen, and I’m not sure what kind of signal it puts out.”

I can tell he’s grinning as he shifts in the seat so he’s facing me. “What kind of signal it puts out?”

“Yeah.”

“Sexy as hell? Does that work?”

I don’t look at him. If I do and see his eyes on me like I think they are, I might pull over and ravage him on the side of the road.

“If you’re insinuating that I think it meant anything more than you wanting something I could give you in that moment, I don’t,” he says, all teasing gone from his tone. “I’ll be honest and say I hope it means that you’re opening up to the idea of maybe spending some time with me.”

“Seems like a slippery slope.”

“I’ll have you know I’m passing a huge innuendo with that one,” he laughs.

“You have a one-track mind today,” I grin.

“That’s your fault.”

I sense movement to my right. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his arm reaching forward just before his palm lands on the bare skin of my thigh.

Goosebumps ripple from the spot, like a stone thrown on a lake. With every wave, my body comes alive.

Much to both my relief and regret, he doesn’t move his hand.

“To clarify, my mind is always two-track with you,” he almost whispers. “That’s how I know you’re special.”

As if the universe is finally giving me a break, I pull to the curb of a salon nestled in the back of a strip mall. A gorgeous blonde girl is standing in the front with an oversized pink bag and purple tips to her hair.

“Is that Sienna?” I ask.

He removes his hand from my leg, the skin instantly feeling cold. I turn the air conditioner down.

He rolls down his window and waves at his sister. Her face lights up and she half-runs to the car.

“Thank you,” she says as she climbs in the back. “I’m going to kill Cam.”

“Where’d she go?” Ford asks.

Sienna just rolls her eyes in response. “Thanks for coming to get me, Ellie,” she says. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Cam has said you’re a pretzel in the yoga studio.”

“Things I’d like to know,” Ford murmurs before Sienna shoots him a look.

Ignoring him, I pull back onto the road. “I’ve only practiced for a couple of years now. I’m not nearly as good as your sister.”

“I think she’s getting lots of practice in contortion these days,” Sienna laughs, watching Ford for a reaction. He glares at her.

I have no idea what I’m missing, but I laugh too. “Sounds like she’s getting a workout.”

“Trust me when I say if you saw the apparatus, you’d be wishing—”

Ford silences her with one pointed look.

“Sorry,” Sienna grins, slipping back into the seat. “Oh! Take a right here!”

I do as instructed, and in a few minutes, we are sitting outside a cute little white house with black shutters.

“Who lives here?” Ford asks.

“A friend of mine,” she says, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. “No worries.”

“Should I accompany you to the door?”

This time it’s her that silences him with a look.

“Fine. Behave yourself,” he mutters. “And if you don’t hear from Cam, call me.”

“She’s fine. No, she’s more than fine,” Sienna laughs, ignoring the look from her brother. “Thanks again for coming to get me, Ellie. I really appreciate it.”

“It was nice meeting you,” I reply.

“Same here.”

With a final bright smile, she’s up the stairs of the little house. I pull away before Ford can try to catch a glimpse of the person inside. This frustrates him, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Did you hear that?” he groans, stretching his legs out in the small space in front of him.

“No. What are you talking about?”

“My stomach just rumbled.”

“Poor thing.” I swerve through traffic and hit my next turn-off.

“Definitely poor thing. You should feed me.”

Scoffing, I glance over my shoulder. “That’s no way to ask a girl on a date.”

“I wasn’t asking you on a date.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope,” he says, the last consonant exaggerated. “You’d say no.”

“Probably,” I grin.

“So I was not asking you on a date,” he goes over again, “but I was suggesting we share a non-date meal with each other.”

“So you were breaking the date ice with a drive-thru meal?”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “Let’s get a hamburger.”

Before I can respond, he’s digging in his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Fucking Graham.”

“What?”

He sticks out his bottom lip. “He’s on his way to get me.”

My giggle drifts through the car, a lightness in my soul that I want to grab on to and hold forever. “You sound like a child.”

“That’s what Graham said.”

“We both couldn’t be wrong.”

I turn left, heading back to Halcyon and away from the fast-food chains dotting the right side of the road.

“I guess we’re going to have to go on that date after all,” he says easily, like it’s the default answer.

“Or not.”

“Come on, Ellie,” he says in a faux-whine. “I’ve already had my fingers—”

“Stop!”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs. “Just go to dinner with me tonight. Let me have a moment to swoon you.”

“Swoon me?” My face is lit up with a smile so wide it makes my cheeks ache. “You want to swoon me?”

“I want to do more than that, but I’ll settle for a good swoon first.”

Pulling my car in behind a jet-black SUV, I flick off the ignition. “I can’t.”

“Don’t give me that.”

“I can’t,” I tell him. “I have plans tonight.”

“Come on!” A dark-headed version of Ford shouts from the window of the SUV.

“Fucker.” Ford climbs out the passenger’s side door. He sticks his head back in and makes one final attempt at winning me over. “I’ll take you anywhere you want. Fancy dinner? Picnic? Milkshakes and French fries? You name it and I’ll make it happen.”

“I really can’t, Ford.”

His face falls. “Okay. I’ll try harder.”

“Ford—”

“See ya later, beautiful.”

He jogs to the car in front of us, climbs in, and they take off down the road, leaving me swooning behind.