her head to the right. “I’ll wait…”
How can she have a sense of humor at a time like this? “Let’s just get this over with,” I say, my voice flat. I’m too disturbed to even smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.
In what feels like slow motion we wheel him out the way we came, while I try desperately not to make eye contact with the patients lingering along our path. I can’t help but assume they’re all wondering how much longer until they’re the ones under the sheet, making their final procession through these sterile halls.
Once outside, we hoist the cot up and slide it into the slot. When those twin doors slam shut, I fold in half, resting my hands on my knees and drawing in a few deep cleansing breaths.
I did it.
“That was a whole lot to put yourself through just for a date,” Marie muses, patting me on the back.
“Ah,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “I’d have helped y’all out, regardless. I just saw my opening and took it.”
“My Whitney-girl’s a tough egg to crack…be patient. I promise, she’s worth it.” With that she leaves me to collect myself.
As soon as I start the van, Marie reaches for the radio dial, switching it off out of respect for our passenger. She’s not so chatty on the ride back, I’d imagine for the same reason. There’s a somber cloud that seems to have fallen over us—a quiet that’s giving me way too much time to reflect on what just happened.
I’m so preoccupied that I hit a pothole straight on, giving us a good jolt. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” she replies, right as a loud brrrt fills the cab.
I side-eye the petite spitfire of a woman next to me, but I’m too much of a gentleman to comment on the fact that she just passed gas. Noticing my gaze, she sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh.
A polite pardon you is on the tip of my tongue, but then it happens again and, call me crazy, but I swear to the Lord it’s coming from behind me.
I sneak another glance at the woman beside me, who’s trying like heck not to burst into hysterics.
Maybe it was her? It had to have been. Surely the dead guy ain’t back there lettin’ ’em rip.
It’s all I can do to keep a straight face once the stench reaches my nose. I try holding my breath, but the odor doesn’t fade. I’m starting to think this sweet, Southern grandma might’ve gone off and shit herself.
I’m so focused on maintaining my composure that I drive us right into another pothole—this one the size of a damn crater. And that’s when I hear it, the groaning coming from behind my head.
“Holy fuck!” I shout, jerking the wheel to the right. “He’s alive! Why? How?”
Before Marie can reply, I plow us right into a neat row of mailboxes.
Wyatt insists on picking me up and driving, not buying into my argument that it would save him time and hassle if I went in my own car and took myself home after dinner.
I think he knows I’m just trying to put an added barrier in place, and he’s not having it. That boy is determined to get the most out of this sham of a date.
He rushes ahead of me to open my door and helps me up into the cab, every bit the gentleman. When he reaches across my body to fasten my seatbelt, my heart takes off at a canter. His attentiveness doesn’t go unnoticed and neither does my attraction, if that cocky grin of his is anything to go by.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Wow. Isn’t he just laying it on extra thick? The guy’s a real charmer, I’ll give him that.
I clear my throat, giving my head a little shake to break the heat in my gaze and do my best not to swoon when his hand brushes my thigh. “Three times now.” Dear God, he smells heavenly. A mix of sandalwood and yum. “Thank you…again.” My breathing is shallow, and my cheeks warm with want. I’m nothing but a ball of sensation, and if this is indicative of how the night’ll go, I’m in bigger trouble than I originally thought.
“Don’t mention it.” Careful not to smash any limbs, he shuts my door before rushing around and climbing up into the driver’s seat.
He looks so natural behind that wheel… a true country boy made to travel these wooded back roads.