“You said you barely know me,” I started.
Now she faced me. I wished I could park somewhere, so I could just hold her face in my hands, feel her skin, and just look at her. Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.
“So I’ll take you to a place that’s important to me,” I finished.
She looked intrigued. Good. But she turned and faced the window again.
If my chest felt tight again, I ignored it. She was here with me. That was all that mattered.
“Who was that guy?” I asked.
“I’m not answering any of your questions until you answer mine,” she told the window.
“Fair enough.”
I tapped the steering wheel. I felt itchy, spoiling for a fight. Preferably with that guy she wouldn’t tell me about.
“Kara.” Damn, I could hear the impatience in my voice.
“Yes?”
“Who was that guy?”
Now she laughed. A knowing, teasing laugh only a woman could make. She threw me a look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Damn, she had a mean streak. And damn if I didn’t crave it. I was miserable without it when I left. But right now, it was driving me crazy.
“Ask me something you want to know then,” I told her.
She faced the window again. Dismissing me.
That hurt. She didn’t want to know anything about me anymore. Had I damaged everything between us? Didn’t she want me anymore?
“Tell me why you left,” she said after a moment.
She said it so softly, her voice so maddeningly small, that my chest ached.
“I’ll show you when we get to where we’re going. Will you wait till then?” I asked.
She nodded but, again, didn’t say anything. Did that mean she wouldn’t tell me about that guy until we were there?
I sighed loudly, blowing my hair off my forehead.
“He’s just a friend from church,” she said. I heard a smile in her voice.
“He’s not…your boyfriend?”
“Well…”
I shot her a look. Her hazel eyes were full of mischief. Just the way I liked it, but not when she was torturing me like this. Not about another guy.
“Do you see now how it can drive you crazy not knowing what I’m thinking? When I won’t tell you anything?”
I kept my mouth shut. She got me there. I knew it. I knew it now.
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you want to assume things? Make you feel awful that you’re contemplating the worst?”
“Yes,” I said.