The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

“Nuh-uh. Not happening.”

“Fine.” I raised my hands in surrender. “You pay this time.”

His lips lifted into a smirk, pleased that he’d won this argument.

He put enough money on the table to cover everything and stood, stretching his arms above his head and revealing a sliver of skin and a trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

And I was staring.

Why was I staring?

I quickly averted my eyes and felt heat blossom across my cheeks.

Thankfully, Dean seemed oblivious.

“I’m going to use the restroom, so you can head on to the car if you want.” He dug in his pocket for the key and once he procured it he held it out and jangled it around.

I stood and swiped it from him.

“Better hurry or I might not wait,” I jested, winking at him as I headed for the door.

“You’d be miserable without me.” He grinned, heading in the direction of the bathroom. “You also wouldn’t get very far.”

He was right. I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift.

I headed outside into the blazing heat and swore that within seconds my back was damp with sweat.

Summers in the south equaled a big, fat NO.

I slid into the passenger seat of the car.

I couldn’t help but smile as I rubbed my hand over the leather seat. I knew how much work Dean had put into it to get it to run. Not to mention all the bodywork he’d had to do. It wasn’t a surprise that in our hometown he was a bit of a legend—anytime anyone needed bodywork done to their car they went to Wentworth Wheels. More importantly they asked for Dean.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked all my social media accounts.

I snorted when I saw a post from Lauren on Instagram. She and Greta had gotten their nails done in this god-awful pointy style with some kind of glittery polish. Their fingers looked like clawed disco balls. I’d keep my paint free nails thank you very much.

Dean strolled outside and slipped his sunglasses on.

He slid into the car with a grace I didn’t possess.

“I think it’s about time we figure out where we’re going.” He grinned and turned in his seat to reach into the back. He dug around and around until finally he procured a map.

That’s right.

A map.

Like a real life paper map.

That you could hold in your hands.

I stared at it like it was some alien like object.

“Um…Dean,” I said slowly, “why are you holding a map? That’s what navigation systems are for.”

I was already pulling the map app up on my phone.

He batted my phone out of my hand so that it landed on the floor of the car with a thunk.