Page 7 of Her Protector on Route 14 (Love Along Route 14 #6)

It’s been two days since I’ve seen Tanner. I figured I’d be able to process my feels after the kiss that left me hot and overwhelmed. It’s stayed with me, lingered in my mind and set my pre-bedtime fantasies on fire.

Tanner: Your car is ready. Pick you up in ten?

Hesitating, I slowly type back ‘ Okay. ’ I don’t know what else there is to say. We kissed, he pulled away, and he made it clear he doesn’t want more. I’m sure that it’s just my lips that are still buzzing with the desire for more. He must be fine.

I repack my back, happy I took advantage of the laundry service and clean up my room a bit, not wanting to make more work for the maids. After getting everything taken care of that I can think of, I rub some of my vanilla lotion on and try to cool my nerves while heading to the lobby to check out.

Tanner, true to his word, takes me to Miller’s Car Restoration and Repair, then talks over things with Peyton while I pay.

Before the guy behind the counter – Wyatt according to his name tag – can offer anything, Tanner’s hand brands my lower back.

His heat sinks through my shirt and I instinctively push into it.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice lower, rougher—dropping just enough to make my heart skip.

He still wants to come with me? I wasn’t expecting that—not really. I figured after everything, the kiss, the distance, the silence… he’d pull back for good. California’s far. Even the next stop is two full days away.

I just stare at him, unsure if I heard right.

He lifts an eyebrow, waiting.

“You... you still want to go with me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I said I did,” he replies, steady and unreadable.

That was days ago. Everything’s changed since then. “And you haven’t changed your mind?”

“No,” he says simply. Then adds, “Have you?”

I shake my head slowly. What’s the harm anyway. We’ll both have to drive and since one of us will have to be awake and at the wheel, it’s not like anything can happen. He’s not going to kiss me again. I won’t ask about it. It happened and neither of us needs to think about it again.

Asking is a way to get hurt. He’ll tell me I’m not enough, that my kissing didn’t measure up. Worse, he’ll be shockingly nice and tell me it was good, but he doesn’t want anything serious or anything else. He likes his solitude after all.

“I’ll drive first,” I say when he tries to go for the driver seat. “You just relax.”

He nods once. “We should stop at a convenience store and get some snacks and drinks for the road.”

That’s exactly what we do. At first, the ride is quiet. I turn up the radio, needing the noise, but he reaches over and turns it down, his tone calm. “Crack the windows. You liked the birds and the wind at the park. You’ll hear more out here.”

He’s right, of course. It is peaceful—but sitting in silence with him makes it harder to keep ignoring what’s been left unsaid.

Not talking about it is starting to feel heavier than just saying something. But it’s a no-win conversation either way, so I stay quiet and chew my bottom lip instead.

“So...” I say, searching for a lighter thread, “what was your first vehicle?”

Tanner glances over, arches a brow, but answers. Every question I toss his way, he meets it head-on. And when I ask if I’m prying too much, he just rolls his eyes and turns the questions back on me.

It’s surprisingly easy—natural, even.

Until he asks, “And what would your boyfriend think of this trip?”

The question drops like a stone in my chest, and suddenly the open windows don’t feel like enough air.

I brake too hard—ten feet before the stop sign—and we both jolt forward. It’s a clumsy, too-sudden reaction, and I immediately regret it. The kind of move someone makes when they feel guilty. Which I’m not.

I open my mouth to say something , anything to cover the awkwardness, but Tanner’s already leaning over, pressing a steady hand to my shoulder.

“Holly, are you okay?” His voice is sharp, concerned, not angry.

My heart’s pounding for all the wrong reasons, and the fact that his hand is so close to my collarbone isn’t helping. I can barely meet his eyes.

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I just—That question caught me off guard.”

His gaze doesn’t let up. “Answer it.”

I stare at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say firmly. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I did.”

His expression softens, just a little. “ I kissed you.”

“Well... I didn’t stop you.” I huff a breath and glance away, trying not to sound like a flustered teenager. “And you’re the one checking me like I broke something.”

He gently brushes my collar aside, eyes narrowing at the faint red mark across my shoulder. “You’ve got a mark. Seatbelt maybe?”

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “Won’t even bruise. I’m okay. Really.”

“Do you want me to drive?” he asks, still watching me too closely.

“No,” I say, putting my hands back on the wheel. “I’ve got it.”

The silence settles thick again until I can’t take it. I grab a Skittle from the center console and toss it at him. It bounces off his chest.

He catches the next one midair without flinching.

“I haven’t had a boyfriend in a while,” I mutter. “Not great at dating. I’ve been told I’m too much. Or too... prude.”

“ A prude? ” he repeats, glancing at me like he misheard.

My face floods with heat. “Forget I said anything. Just—hand me the Skittles.”

He sets the big bag of Skittles over the cupholders. I grab a handful, munching in silence for a few beats—then toss one at him.

He stares at me for a long moment, completely unamused. I just shrug. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never been on a real road trip. You know, the fun kind.”

I turn my attention back to the road—until a Skittle lands right in my lap.

When I glance over, he’s looking out the window like he had nothing to do with it, jaw tight, expression neutral. Not fooling anyone.

I keep teasing him, tossing another his way. Eventually, he gives in and starts returning fire. It turns into a back-and-forth game that fills the cab with low laughter and color and something lighter than anything we’ve felt since this all started.

Then a song comes on the radio. Smooth, sultry, a little suggestive.

I grin and sing along without thinking, swaying slightly in my seat to the rhythm, letting the fun of the moment carry me.

It’s only when I catch Tanner not turning the volume down that I realize—he’s watching me. And he’s not pretending anymore.

He puts a skittle on his tongue as he watches me, eyes darting over my body, then he clears his throat.

“Do you know the song?” I ask softly.

“I do.”

“Do you like the song?”

“More so now,” he answers, his lips turning up in a half-smile as his eyes flick back to me. “You could convince me to like the radio.”

I nibble my bottom lip and shake my head, trying to shake him out of my thoughts. I need to focus on the road, not the way he makes my skin feel too tight.

Not on how much I’d rather have him tasting me instead of a Skittle. Not on how much I want him to lean over and kiss me at every red light and empty intersection.

If he wanted to, he would , I remind myself.

It’s the mantra I cling to—the one thing keeping me from reaching across the cab, from humiliating myself and proving what I already suspect deep down: that I’m not enough for someone like him.

Not bold enough. Not experienced enough. Just… not enough.