Relief at the break in tension sweeps over me like a breaking wave. I smile.
“That wasn’t an answer to my question, but fine,” I say, putting the car in reverse.
He sits silently as I pilot us into the street.
Traffic is light as I make my way onto the freeway and head toward the property my grandfather showed me. I hit the gas to mix into traffic when Wade stiffens next to me.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
I zoom around a truck filled with lumber and then fall back into line in front of it.
“Was that necessary?” he asks. “You drive like Boone.”
“Again, I don’t know who Boone is. Also, yes, that was necessary. Haven’t you watched those movies where the … well, I think they were trees and not just boards but, anyway, they come through the windshield and impale people?”
“I’m happy to say I missed that cinematic experience.”
“What kind of movies do you like?” I pause. “Let me take a guess. Something about math? Math or … rocks.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Let’s be frank here, Mr. Mason. You aren’t the most personable person on the planet.”
“By design.” He pauses, looking out the window. “But, to answer your question, I don’t watch many movies.”
“That sucks for you. I love them. Most people love them. But if you ...” I look up to see the exit quickly approaching. “Crap.”
After a quick check of my blind spot, I whip the car into the right lane.
“What the hell are you doing?” Wade asks, his voice louder than necessary.
I glance over to see him holding the oh-shit handle.
“That’s my exit,” I say. I punch the gas and hit the off-ramp with little time to spare. “Whew. We almost didn’t make that one—but never fear. I got you.”
The engine roars as I decelerate and come to a stop at the light. Wade’s hand slowly releases the bar above the window.
“None of that was necessary,” he says. “Shit, Dara.”
“Don’t get in my car and act like I’m not a race car driver. That’s rude.”
He looks at me, shocked. “You aren’t a race car driver. You’re a … photographer, if I’m not mistaken, and one who clearly has no professional driver training under their belt.”
I flip on my turn signal, grinning. “Want to know what I have under this belt?”
He looks at me warily.
“A need … for speed,” I say and tromp the gas again.
The car lurches forward. The engine roars but I let off the gas before we exceed the speed limit. Only when I’m sure everything is under control do I look at Wade.
He’s eyeing me carefully, a finger stroking his bottom lip.
“This bothers you, doesn’t it?” I ask, flipping my attention back to the road.
“What part?”
I shrug. The fact that I don’t have specific ideas for my own home? That I’m a little sassier than I think he’s used to? That my driving skills are on point—even if he disagrees?
“I don’t know. All of it?” I offer.
His gaze lingers on me for a long moment. Its weight is heavy on the side of my face. Finally, he settles back in his seat and picks up his coffee.
“You have no idea,” he mutters. “No idea at all.”
ELEVEN
DARA
I kill the engine.
A stillness settles over the car—over me and Wade—as we look across the property. Stately, oversized trees surround us, the morning sunlight filtering through the branches. A path was made at some point long ago, leading deeper into the forest. It’s magical.
“Wow,” Wade says, sweeping his gaze over the expanse. “This is incredible.”
“I know.”
“Can we get out? Walk around?”
“Sure.”
We climb out of the car and shut our doors behind us.
Birds chirp overhead, singing songs and alerting each other of our presence. The blue sky peeks through the leaves and it feels like we are truly tucked inside our own little cocoon.
“How much land is here?” Wade asks as he walks to the front of my car.
I shrug. “I don’t know. A lot. If you follow this path, it leads to a lake. It’s pretty special.”
His brows raise and he points that direction. “Could we walk that way?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Our shoes pad along the trail cut through the trees. Wade walks beside me with his hands in his pockets.
“Is this where your home will go?” he asks. “Or is this just an option?”
My heart tugs in my chest. “I believe it’s an option. Grandpa brought me here a while back and said how he always thought this would be a great spot, but his new wife, Tyra, hated being so far away from the city. He thought maybe I’d like it.”
“So do you?”
Wade’s question sounds simple enough. But there’s something heavy laced in his tone. When I look at him, I can see a skepticism in his eyes that I feel deep in my soul.
“Yes,” I say, forcing a swallow. “Of course, I like it. What’s not to like?”