Page 23 of Rear View

“A little late for that, darlin’.” He leaned back, relaxing into his seat like a king on his throne, and tapped a finger to his temple. “That’s living rent free up here now.”

I snickered and rolled my eyes. We climbed the mountainside, aiming up, up, up until I got to fourth gear and approached a turn.

“See how the corner banks?”

“Yeah.”

“Approach it like normal, but once you pass the first third, power out of it.”

I narrowed my eyes in question.

“Hit the gas.” His foot thumped to the base of the barely audible rock music humming from the speakers. “You’re turning into the curve. Do the right speed and G-force’ll hold the vehicle and prevent a slide.”

I downshifted when I approached, then accelerated as he’d said. The Jeep hugged the road like it’d been made for that moment.

“When you straighten out, loosen your grip on the wheel and let it glide through your hands.”

I did, the smooth leather sliding over my skin. My brows rose. “It’s almost like you do this for a living or something.”

He winked. “Almost.”

My stomach flipped and heat burned across my chest. It sent warm shivers down my spine and arms. We kept going while I slowly banked hairpin turn after hairpin turn along that ridiculously long portion of the track.

I grew more and more comfortable taking the corners and moving between gears.

It was fun and freeing, and I unequivocally loved it…

until we reached the top. A sheer rock face stood to our right, a treacherously steep for est to our left and a guardrail with a vertical drop down, down, down, straight ahead. I swallowed hard.

“You’re good. Just gear down and do a U-turn,” he said.

I eased our speed back until we practically crawled. He didn’t mock. Didn’t criticize. Just directed. Calm. So damn calm. I focused on the road. Only the road, and several painstaking, tire-crunching seconds later, I swung us around.

Happy dancing my excitement, I made my way back down.

He grinned, his attention homing in on me. “How come you never learned to drive?”

“I guess I just didn’t need to. My family was a one-car, blue-collar household.

We did alright, but Miles’s hockey stuff meant a lot of road trips for my parents.

They live just outside the city, so back then, if I wanted to do something, either my friends picked me up or I took transit.

” The one route that existed out there. How many times I wished I’d learned to drive so I could jump in a car and disappear.

My hand flexed over the shifter. “How did you learn?”

“Taught myself.”

My head whipped his way. “You taught yourself ?”

A slow nod. His expression tightened, subtle lines creasing his eyes as he stared out the front window. “My house wasn’t a home growin’ up, darlin’. I needed a way out.”

I fought from gripping my chest because my heart hurt for him. “How old were you when you learned?”

“Fourteen.”

Fourteen? There was a story there, one I wanted to know badly, but between Sheila’s talk of his father, and his own of his brother, I wasn’t about to claw his wounds.

“Why’d you pick psych?” he asked, then clarified, “To study.”

A dry laugh broke from me. The answer was easy, but I liked the way he looked at me.

The last thing I wanted was to lay the entirety of that story at his feet.

Tell him how royally messed up I was. That, at twenty-three, I still slept with a light on.

That I constantly looked over my shoulder, was afraid of my phone and email, didn’t drink or party, had panic attacks and had turned practically reclusive.

I shrugged and guided the Jeep right. “To understand people.”

He cocked a brow as if he suspected more. “Anyone in particular?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

I worried my cheek between my teeth and winced. “Not yet.” As soon as the words were out, my stomach twisted. God, I didn’t want him to feel like I hid things. “I’m sorry, I—”

He raised a hand. “I want everything you’re willin’ to give, but you don’t owe it to me. You talk about what you want, when you want. No apologies.”

“I want to tell you things, Xavier, I do. It’s just…it’s hard for me.”

“Then tell me when it’s not, yeah?”

A tension I hadn’t known had taken root, eased around my ribs. “Yeah,” I answered, my voice soft.

He stretched his left arm, hooking it behind my headrest while he kicked one of his long, thick legs out in front of him. Relaxed. “See that car over there?”

A junker vehicle sat off to the side of the path, as if it had been set up as an obstacle. I inclined my head.

“Pull up behind it and stop.”

I eyed him askance.

His lip arced up. “Just do it.”

I downshifted as I crept forward, my grip on the wheel edging on painful.

He pointed. “You wanna be able to see where his back wheels meet the ground.” He pointed. “Any closer and you’re stuck.”

“Stuck?”

He up-ticked his chin. “Try and go around him.”

I frowned. “I’ll hit him.”

“Exactly. So, you’re stuck.”

“Couldn’t I just reverse?”

“If you’ve got room. But in a line of traffic, that won’t fly.” He chucked his thumb behind us. “Back up until you see the car’s tires touching.”

I flexed my hold over the shifter. “And, how…um. How do I do that?”

He set his calloused hand over mine and folded my fingers down with his. “Do you feel that lip?”

A shameless desire had my thighs clenching tight. “Yes.”

“That keeps you from puttin’ it in reverse by mistake.” He gripped it tight, and lifted, then maneuvered it into position. His arctic gaze held mine. “Make sense?”

My mouth ran dry and I nodded. Rolling us back a few feet, I stopped.

“Now, cut the wheel hard and go around it.”

My transition from stopped was a bit jerky, but I veered by it no problem, beaming wildly as I went. His, laugh, easy and entirely male, rumbled through me. It soothed my frayed nerves and made me want…more.

“Thank you for this, Xavier.” God, thank you for everything.

“We’re not done yet, darlin’. I still owe you dinner.”

My smile hurt. “You do.”

“What’re we in the mood for? Fancy? Or fast?”

I loved that he asked. That it wasn’t open-ended. That he gave options but narrowed it down. That he said we . I rubbed my palms together. “Fast!”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned. “You like pizza?”

His girl. My stomach did this flipping thing, while a blush burned my cheeks. Pressure built in my core as I trailed my tongue along the back of my teeth. “I love it.” Pulling up the e-brake, I unclipped my seat belt. “But you’re driving.”

* * *

Xavier took the scenic route across the city, along the Soral Rapids. Jagged ice cut from the bank’s edge, but the water itself moved too fast to freeze.

I shimmied down as I settled farther into my seat and exhaled a contented breath. I was just so…comfortable. Everything else, all the noise in my head, my intrusive fear, faded to nothing when I was with him. It felt good. Like the sky had parted and the light peeked in.

He stuck to the speed limit, his up- and downshifts so smooth, I barely felt them. Not that I should’ve been surprised, but still, he was a racer.

“You drive so normal.”

“You expect somethin’ else?”

I ran a hand over my thigh. “You do like going fast.”

His stare followed that movement. “I do, but the cops frown on that stuff, yeah.” His mouth tugged up at the corner, but his smile was tight. “Gotta be careful. Can’t afford to lose my license.”

He veered through the city, into a small strip mall and up to a mom-and-pop shop called Yummies.

I laughed. “Well, now my expectations are high.”

“They should be.”

We headed for the door and Xavier held it wide, my shoulder grazing his chest as I ducked inside.

The place was small, with only a handful of tables scattered around the front.

The walls were red and trimmed in black, with chips of paint missing here and there.

But the savory smell of meats and sauce were dense in the air.

It made my stomach growl and my mouth water.

Xavier led the way as we aimed for the counter, and the younger guy behind it gave a nod. “What can I get for you?”

“Number five special, please,” Xavier said as he pulled out his wallet.

“Could we also have some ketchup on the side?” I added.

He smirked, side-eyeing me as he finished paying. “Ketchup?”

“Ketchup,” I repeated.

The employee nodded. “It’ll be about five minutes. Sit wherever you want.”

Xavier’s warm palm settled on the small of my back, heating my entire body. My tongue trailed my teeth as he steered us to a two-seater at the back of the shop and pulled out my chair.

“Such a gentleman.”

He winked.

A group of girls pushed inside, cackling before they headed up to the counter and discussed their options.

“How’s school?” he asked me.

“Good.” I shrugged. “I’m just ready to be done.”

“Is there much left?”

I laughed. “My thesis.” I set my elbows on the edge of the table. “We’re at the stage where it’s mostly fine-tuning. My prof’s kind of fickle. I’m supposed to meet him Tuesday night to catch up on a few things.”

He rubbed his chin. “Big storm comin’ Tuesday.”

What? My throat tightened. “How big?”

“If we get the weather they’re callin’ for, the city’s gonna be shut down.”

Storms meant buses getting stuck and problems getting home.

“Can you reschedule?”

“No. Barlowe is the furthest thing from reasonable.”

His mouth thinned into a hard line. “I’ll getcha when you’re done, then.”

“I can’t ask that—”

“Don’t gotta ask. Just text me what time to come. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, my God!” the blonde from the group at the counter cried. “Are you Xavier Bosch?” Her eyes were pretty and wide and fixed on him.

He held my gaze for several intense seconds before he angled the blonde’s way and gave a salute. “That’s me.” He was polite, not dismissive, but not inviting either.

“Your commercials are everywhere!” She scurried over, her friends tight on her clicky black heels. “Can we get a picture?”