“I don’t know how to drive,” she said.

“We’re going to change that. Number nine on your list, remember?”

She blinked, even as a surge of excitement barreled through her. She was going to learn how to drive! “I hope you have good insurance.”

Chapter 15

#SonOfABiscuit

Spence had thought it’d be fun to teach Colbie how to drive. Turned out fun wasn’t quite the right word.

Terrifying would’ve been a better one.

Or here were two. Living. Nightmare.

She stomped on the brake and he practically kissed the windshield. He was still peeling his face off the glass when she hit the gas, knocking the back of his head into the seat rest . . .

“Whoops,” she said and jammed both feet on the brake.

Shaking his head from the whiplash, he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Your pedals are a little touchy.”

Uh-huh. “Try sweet-talking it into doing your bidding,” he suggested. “Ease it gently into following your whim. You do that and it’ll give you a helluva good ride.”

Colbie slid him a look. “Are you aware that sometimes the things you say sound dirty? You want me to sweet-talk what exactly into giving me a good ride—your truck or your favorite body part?”

He grinned. “Honey, you can sweet-talk my favorite body part anytime you want. Now put one foot on the brake and then the truck back in drive.”

She put her left foot on the brake pedal.

“Other foot,” he said.

She switched to her right foot. “I’ve always thought that seems dumb,” she said. “Why not use a foot for each pedal?”

“Because it works out better for the engine—and my neck—if you don’t try to use both the gas and the brake at the same time.”

“Oh,” she said. “Good point.” She paused. “You do know that I have no idea what I’m doing, right?”

“I’m getting that,” he said. “Didn’t you ever ride the bumper cars at the fair? Or Autopia at Disneyland?”

“No. But one time my brother stole an ATV. He joyrode it home and I had to drive it back.”

“And how did that go?”

She didn’t answer.

He glanced over and grinned at the flash of guilt on her face. “Let me guess. Not good.”

“I hit the gas too hard, did a wheelie, and fell off the back,” she said and winced. “Got a concussion.”

He had an arm stretched out along the back of the seats and slid his hand up the nape of her neck to palm and cradle her head. “We’re not going to do that today,” he said.

“Thought you didn’t make promises you couldn’t keep.”

“I don’t. Now hold the brake down and put it in drive,” he said again. “You’re going to be fine.”

His voice was purposefully low. Authoritative. Calm.

Which in turn appeared to calm her. She held a foot down on the brake and put the truck into drive.

“Now slowly let off the brake,” he said, “and ease on the gas. Emphasis on ease.”

She didn’t exactly ease, but hey, she didn’t stomp either, and then they were making their way across the empty lot, weaving because she was checking out the complicated-looking GPS system on the dash.

“You’ve got this thing rigged for a Mars excursion,” she said.

“Watch the road, not the screen,” he warned, eyeing the planter along the parking lot, the one lined with full-grown trees.

“No, but seriously, what are all these gadgets for?”

“I’ll tell you later.” They were getting closer to the trees. “Honey, watch the road.”

“I’m not on the road. We’re in a parking lot.”

“Which is a good thing considering you’re taking up the equivalent of four lanes. Going to have to lock it down to graduate to the road.”

“How’s this? Better?”

He paused.

She risked a look at him.

He grimaced. “Yes?”

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re a really bad liar.”

“Maybe because I’m distracted by the planter you’re heading for. Trees, Colbie. Lots of trees.”

“Son of a biscuit!” She swerved wildly, then slammed the brakes so that they both came up against their seatbelts hard enough to rattle some teeth loose.

“Huh,” she said. “You know, this really isn’t nearly as easy as it looks.”

“Some people aren’t meant for driving,” he said. “Some people maybe have other talents.”

She had to laugh. “Like ordering an Uber?”

“There’s no shame in that.”

On her fifth time around the lot, she’d gotten the hang of things. Somewhat. Sure, she’d mistakenly driven up and over a concrete planter and maybe killed a few daisies while she was at it. And okay, so she’d also left a good amount of rubber on the asphalt when she’d accidentally executed a burnout, but she hadn’t crashed into anything.

Yet.

She was working on controlling her speed, going too fast into a tight turn, when a whoop of a siren and a flash of blue and red lights came from behind them.

“Uh-oh,” she said, looking wild—and wide-eyed.

The security guard came to the driver’s side window and bent down to look at first Colbie and then Spence. “What’s with the Indy 500 act?”

“I’m learning how to drive,” Colbie told him.

“Are you sure?” the cop asked.

“Yes!” Colbie sighed. “I’m just not all that good at it yet.”

“You broke about ten driving laws just now.”

“She’s not on the street,” Spence said. “We’re on private property.”

“True enough,” the security guard said. “But someone called it in from the building. Said there were two stupid teenagers in the lot acting crazy and probably smoking pot.” He lifted a brow and eyed Spence. “You in charge here?”

“Yes.”

“Actually,” Colbie said, “I’m in charge of myself.”

Spence produced a badge and the officer took it, studied it, and then returned it. “I’m sorry, sir,” the guy said. “I didn’t recognize you. Have a good one.” And then he left.

Colbie looked at Spence in disbelief. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked.

“He acted like you own this place.”

“That’s because I do.”

She stared at him. “You’re like one of those really great cinnamon twists we had the other day in Union Square. Lots of surprising layers I didn’t see coming.”

“Right back at you,” Spence said. “And I bet, like the rolls, you’re also sweet and good to eat.”

She squirmed in her seat and blushed. “You don’t know that.”

He smiled. “I have a good imagination.”

At Spence’s words, Colbie’s face felt like it was having a hot flash. Then Spence—smiling because he seemed to know exactly what he did to her—leaned in excruciatingly slowly, until his lips just brushed hers.

Colbie’s hot flash spread to every single inch of her body. The anticipation of his touch was enough to galvanize her into reaching up and tearing off his glasses.

His smile widened and he finally kissed her, making her moan in pleasure. And he kept kissing her too, until they’d steamed up the windows and had gotten their hands on each other in ways that made it hard to breathe, when Spence pressed his forehead to hers.

“Not here,” he said, voice so low as to be barely audible.

She heard herself give a little mewl of protest and then another in pure pleasure when his hands, one inside her shirt and the other up her skirt, caressed bare, heated skin.

“I’m not taking you in a parking lot,” he said and nipped her lower lip. “Not for our first time.”

So many things to quiver over. One, that he clearly assumed there’d be more than one time. Two, that she was bad off enough that she started to argue the point. “But—”