Page 22 of Drive Me Wild (Owl Creek #2)

I follow Caleb’s truck down the winding coastal road to Port Stratton, my hands tight on the steering wheel. Even though we agreed to take separate cars to avoid raising suspicions, now I wish I was riding with him, stealing glances at his profile as he drives.

The sun is setting over the water that emerges to my left as we near town, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that remind me of the flush that spread across my chest the last time he touched me.

Heat pools in my belly at the memory of his mouth on me, his hands gripping my thighs. I force myself to focus on the road.

My heart skips when we pull into the gravel lot behind a weathered building. The restaurant looks exactly like something I would have chosen – small and unpretentious, with twinkling lights strung along the wooden deck that overlooks the water.

Caleb is waiting for me before I can grab my purse, and the sight of him leaning against his truck in dark jeans and a fitted henley makes my mouth go dry. His smile when he sees me sends warmth spreading through my chest.

“Hey, beautiful.”

He pulls me close enough that I can smell the hint of his cologne mixed with the cool late summer air. “Found this place last time I was picking up a load of parts. Thought you might like it.”

“It’s perfect.” I let myself lean into him slightly, savoring the solid warmth of his chest against my shoulder. Being able to touch him openly, even if only here in Port Stratton, feels both thrilling and terrifying.

Inside, the restaurant is cozy and dim, with mismatched wooden tables and paintings of ships in the port on the walls. Our server leads us to a corner table near a window, where the last rays of sunset filter through old glass panes.

“So,” Caleb says once we’re settled with drinks – a local beer for him, white wine for me. “This is weird, right? Actually being out together?”

I laugh, feeling some of my nervousness dissolve. “A little. Good weird, though.”

“Very good, weird, Angel.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and I feel that now-familiar flutter in my stomach.

“Angel? Definitely not,” I laugh. “I already told you we’re going to have to work on your nickname game.”

“Alright, I tried and failed. You look amazing, by the way. That sweater is doing things to me.”

I glance down at my oversized cream sweater, worn off one shoulder. I’d chosen it on purpose, hoping he’d notice the way it slips to reveal more skin. “Maybe that was the plan.”

His eyes darken. “You’ve been bolder lately. When did you get so bold?”

“Maybe I’ve always been like this. Just needed the right motivation.” I take a sip of wine, letting the glass hide my smile as his gaze tracks the movement of my throat.

“Is that what I am? Motivation?”

“Among other things.” I set down my glass, suddenly serious. “You make me feel safe. To be myself, I mean. And that means the world to me, Caleb.”

The confession hangs between us for a moment. Caleb reaches across the table and takes my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles in a way that makes me shiver.

“I like yourself,” he says softly. “A lot.”

Our server appears with bread and oil, breaking the moment, but my skin still tingles where he touched me.

We order food and fall into easy conversation about our days.

I tell him about the work I got done on the business plan and a custom order for my digital downloads, carefully leaving out how distracted I’d been by the lingering scent of him in his apartment.

“Speaking of work,” he says, tearing off a piece of bread, “did I tell you about Mr. Henderson’s car?”

“No, what happened?”

“Brought it in today thinking it needed new brake pads. Turns out an animal had been sleeping under the hood and shredded half the wiring.” He launches into the story, and I find myself mesmerized by the way his hands move as he talks, remembering how those capable fingers had felt against my skin.

Our food arrives, and I realize I’m hungry – I’d been too nervous to eat lunch. The fish I ordered is perfectly cooked, and Caleb insists I try a bite of his steak, holding out his fork for me. The casual intimacy of it makes my heart squeeze.

I take another sip of wine, sliding my foot against his under the table. “You know what’s kind of exciting?”

“What’s that, Princess?” His voice has that gravelly quality that makes my insides melt.

I tilt my head, studying him. “Why do you keep trying out nicknames?”

He looks caught off guard for a moment, his usual confidence wavering.

“I...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’ve never done this before.

The actual dating thing. I keep thinking there are these rules I’m supposed to follow, like having a special name for you.

Kind of like Cole has for Renée.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m probably doing it all wrong.”

The admission makes my heart squeeze. “Hey,” I reach across the table and take his hand. “That is not what makes a relationship work. This—what we’re doing right now—that’s what makes it work. Enjoying each other’s company. That’s what I want.”

His fingers tighten around mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And if you find some cute nickname to call me, then I know I’ll love it. Though ‘princess’ is still definitely not happening.”

His smile returns, softer this time. “Noted.”

His eyes follow the exposed line of my collarbone, and I feel my center warm, moisture pooling.

“Keep looking at me like that, and we might have to worry about giving the other diners a show.”

“Maybe I like that you can’t do anything about it right now.” The words surprise me as they come out, but I feel braver after seeing his vulnerable side. “That you have to sit there and behave yourself.”

“Behave myself?” He leans forward, dropping his voice. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, Zoe. I’m planning.” His foot hooks around my ankle. “Every single thing I’m going to do to you later.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away. “Tell me.” I pause, realizing how much hearing my name on his lips is more intimate than any pet name he comes up with. “And when you do, call me by my name. I’ll never stop loving hearing you say my name.”

The rest of dinner passes in a haze of loaded glances and casual touches that feel anything but casual. By the time we finished eating, the restaurant had filled up around us, and the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses created a cocoon of privacy at our corner table.

Outside, the night has turned cool, and the deck lights reflect off the dark water. Caleb pulls me close, his hands settling on my hips.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” he murmurs against my hair.

“Thank you for asking.” I turn in his arms, tilting my face up to his. “Even if we had to drive to another town to do it.”

“Worth it.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Though now I really want to kiss you, and I probably shouldn’t right here on the deck. I don’t think I could stop at just a kiss.”

My whole body thrums with want. “Probably not.”

“Come home with me, Zoe?” The question is soft, almost hesitant.

“Yes.” The word tumbles out before I can second-guess myself. “Yes, I want to.”

His smile is slow and dangerous. “Good. Because I have plans for you.”

The drive back to Owl Creek is going to be torture, I think, as we walk to our cars. But watching Caleb’s truck pull away, knowing where the night is heading, I can’t stop smiling. Maybe this time really will be different. Maybe this time, I can let myself believe that I’m enough.