Dear Heart, I Hate You

Relief flooded through me. I hadn’t made up anything last night. It had all been real.

He looked delicious in his dark jeans, black button-down shirt, and leather jacket. His brown hair was much like it was last night, spiked up in the front, albeit a little messy in places that seemed to work only on someone like him. And his lips were as incredible as they’d been in my imagination all day today.

“Hi,” I said with a smile.

“Hi, yourself.” He bent down to give me a kiss.

If that was how this night was going to go, I was all in.

“This is for you.” He handed me the rose, which I immediately brought to my nose to appreciate.

“Thank you.” I clutched the flower, a little overwhelmed by the sweetness of the gesture. It had been a long time since I’d received a rose from someone other than my parents.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his tone so sincere that I felt myself blush with the compliment.

“And you look hot.” I gave him a once-over before settling my gaze on his mouth and licking my lips.

“Jules,” he said, practically growling a warning, and I quickly returned my gaze to his eyes. If I didn’t behave, we’d end up back in my hotel room, and we both knew it.

“Sorry,” I lied.

“I don’t think you are. Come on.” He placed a hand on my lower back and steered me toward the side exit. “I have a sweatshirt and a jacket in the car for you.”

“Thank you so much. I didn’t bring anything warm with me at all. See?” I pointed at my manicured toes peeking through the straps of my sandals.

He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

I said nothing, the responses running through my head way too crazy to say out loud, let alone think. Love me? Kiss me? Marry me? Have my babies?

Cal held the hotel door open as I walked outside and pointed toward the charcoal-gray Mercedes parked at the curb. The car beeped to life as the locks clicked open and the lights all turned on. He opened the passenger door for me, and I slipped into the cool leather seat and placed the rose carefully on the backseat next to the jackets. When Cal slid into the driver’s seat, it automatically adjusted to his body.

I breathed in deeply. “Is this new?”

“About a year,” he said as the engine purred to life and the music turned on. His hand immediately came to rest on my thigh like it had last night, and I placed my hand on top of his, longing for the connection to him.

“It still smells new,” I said, sniffing the air.

He gave the dashboard an affectionate pat. “I take care of her.”

“Her?”

Cal shot me a glance. “Of course she’s a her. Isn’t your car a girl?”

I laughed, because no, my car was most definitely not a girl. I’d considered all of my cars boys and had even given them boy names. I’d never thought about that until now; it was just something I did.

“My car’s a boy.”

“See?”

“We’re weird.” I smiled as I watched him drive.

“You might be, but I’m normal.” His fingers moved on my leg, his thumb drawing circles as he drove.

Silence quickly filled the space between us. It wasn’t awkward or weird, and neither one of us seemed eager to fill the quiet with anything other than our breathing. It was just one more thing to add to my mental list of how natural it felt being around Cal.

The fact that I didn’t feel the need to rack my brain to think of something to talk about was refreshing. I’d driven with clients I’d known for years to look at properties, and there was always a level of awkwardness when the conversation lulled. Someone would eventually fill the empty air to avoid the silence.

The sound of the radio playing softly in the background caught my attention, and when I realized what was playing, I said, “Country? Really?”