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Heat creeps up my neck, and I fiddle with my purse strap, hoping to mask how my cheeks have gone splotchy.
Real smooth, Scar.
Why not just throw your panties at him while you're at it?
“You did good work on her,” I mumble, forcing my eyes to meet his.
I watch as Jett hoists my suitcase into the trunk, unable to tear my eyes away from the flex of muscles beneath his vintage tee.
There's something almost mesmerizing about the simple, masculine movement.
“Careful with that, rock star,” I tease, aiming for a lighthearted tone to mask the undercurrent of awareness thrumming through me. “That’s my entire life in there.”
His voice, rich and amused, pulls my wandering gaze back up to meet that smoldering stare.
“Don’t worry, Scar. I’ll take good care of it.”
A beat passes before he adds, “And you.”
The suggestive lilt makes a rash of heat prickle along my skin.
Damn him.
Jett's answering chuckle tells me he's well aware of the effect he's having. But he surprises me.
“Hey, I got this, okay? We’ll make it to that wedding in one piece. I promise.”
His gaze lingers, warm and reassuring, and despite my best efforts, I glimpse echoes of the guy who teased me mercilessly but always had my back.
Jett opens the passenger door with a flourish. “Your chariot.”
My heart flutters as I sink into the passenger seat.
The familiar scent of aged upholstery and lingering hints of Jett's cologne transport me back to high school—cruising around town with the windows down, the radio cranked up, and we belting out every word to whatever rock anthem was popular that summer.
Jett folds his long frame behind the wheel, and when our knees brush, an involuntary shiver ripples through me, electricity skittering across my skin.
I fidget in the passenger seat, smoothing my skirt over my thighs, willing my racing pulse to slow. “I, uh, really appreciate you doing this, Jett. Driving me all that way, I mean.”
His mouth quirks in a half-smile. “No sweat. What are friends for?”
“The whole flight mix-up and my credit card on ice because of that fraud alert,” I offer, compelled to justify the burden I've placed on him.
“I didn't have many options for getting to the wedding on time.”
Jett waves a dismissive hand as he turns on the radio, the opening chords of a familiar rock ballad filling the car.
“Like I said, it's no problem.”
“Right, well, thanks. I owe you one.”
His grin widens. “I'll keep that in mind.”
Dark curls tease his nape, tempting my fingers. I wrench my gaze away from Jett, focusing instead on the passing scenery.
Trees blur into a kaleidoscope of greens and golds as the miles unspool.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep, steadying breath. The car's engine hums beneath us as we speed down the highway.
