little on the curb, but he kept a tight hold on her arm and settled her into the car, clicking her seatbelt into place before rounding the front and climbing into the driver’s seat.
They drove in silence until they were out of the city and the traffic cleared.
“Where are we going?” Sophie finally asked. He didn’t answer, of course, and turned on the radio. She shouldn’t have wasted her breath. By the time they reached a road that rolled along the coast, she was starving and regretting that she hadn’t ordered any food at the bar.
“Where are we going, Aidan?” she repeated.
“You don’t get to know yet.”
“Fine.” Sophie reached for the radio and spun the knobs, looking for something a little less upbeat.
“No,” he said, switching back to the sugary 80s American music. “You’re not in charge of the stereo.”
“This is what you pick?”
“It reminds me of being a kid,” he said.
“So where are we going?”
Silence.
“Seriously. Where are we going?”
Sophie repeated the question until his knuckles were white on the wheel and he was driving over the posted speed limit by 20 miles per hour. The more she asked, the faster he went.
Two hours later, he asked if she needed the bathroom.
“Where are we going?” she responded. But she silently wondered whether he was going in circles. Scenery flew by as night stretched to dawn, and still they didn’t reach a destination. It seemed that Aidan was either lost or deliberately avoiding a quicker route.
“Where are we going?”
“Damn it, Sophie. Ask me anything else.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He looked at her, incredulous, then back at the road. Aidan’s eyes widened and he slammed on the brake; Sophie hit the back of her seat hard, then flew forward into the dashboard.
It had been a mistake to look at her for so long, was his first thought when he came to. Sophie had been pissing him off, asking questions in that snotty prep school tone. Questions she knew he wouldn’t answer.
He was so fucking tired. Right when she’d started in with the sassy road trip act again, he’d been fantasizing about a really good cup of black coffee.
Sophie didn’t look tired. Didn’t even seem to dim as light streaked the sky. But he knew the adrenaline keeping her going would crash soon.
When he tore his eyes away from her sexy, smart-assed face and looked back at the road, a goat was standing smack in the middle of it. Instinct kicked in and Aidan steered the rental right of f the road and into a ditch with a jarring thump. He’d been in accidents before, but he could already tell that the car wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way to the ferry.
Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he turned to Sophie. She was slumped against the door, breathing in shallow gasps. A gash on her forehead was dripping blood into her eyes.
“Slow down,” he ordered.
She continued breathing fast, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
“I said, slow down. You’re going to hyperventilate.” Her hands were clenched and shaking, even though he knew the motion had to hurt her damaged fingers. Aidan freed himself from the seatbelt and reached over to remove hers, then pulled her across the console and against his chest.
“Everything’s okay now,” he said, holding her with one arm and stroking her hair with the other. He didn’t feel any broken bones and she didn’t seem to be in pain. Just scared. The head wound would bleed, but it wasn’t serious, he knew.
Thank god she didn’t have any awkward bone injuries that would make getting her out of the country impossible. It was hard to disguise head wounds though, and Aidan didn’t look forward to public stares from passengers on the ferry who thought he was abusing his wife.
Of course, he was responsible for Sophie’s injuries. But she wasn’t his wife.
She wouldn’t or couldn’t stop her breathing. Her eyes grew large in her head, and she passed out in his arms.
They were three
They drove in silence until they were out of the city and the traffic cleared.
“Where are we going?” Sophie finally asked. He didn’t answer, of course, and turned on the radio. She shouldn’t have wasted her breath. By the time they reached a road that rolled along the coast, she was starving and regretting that she hadn’t ordered any food at the bar.
“Where are we going, Aidan?” she repeated.
“You don’t get to know yet.”
“Fine.” Sophie reached for the radio and spun the knobs, looking for something a little less upbeat.
“No,” he said, switching back to the sugary 80s American music. “You’re not in charge of the stereo.”
“This is what you pick?”
“It reminds me of being a kid,” he said.
“So where are we going?”
Silence.
“Seriously. Where are we going?”
Sophie repeated the question until his knuckles were white on the wheel and he was driving over the posted speed limit by 20 miles per hour. The more she asked, the faster he went.
Two hours later, he asked if she needed the bathroom.
“Where are we going?” she responded. But she silently wondered whether he was going in circles. Scenery flew by as night stretched to dawn, and still they didn’t reach a destination. It seemed that Aidan was either lost or deliberately avoiding a quicker route.
“Where are we going?”
“Damn it, Sophie. Ask me anything else.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He looked at her, incredulous, then back at the road. Aidan’s eyes widened and he slammed on the brake; Sophie hit the back of her seat hard, then flew forward into the dashboard.
It had been a mistake to look at her for so long, was his first thought when he came to. Sophie had been pissing him off, asking questions in that snotty prep school tone. Questions she knew he wouldn’t answer.
He was so fucking tired. Right when she’d started in with the sassy road trip act again, he’d been fantasizing about a really good cup of black coffee.
Sophie didn’t look tired. Didn’t even seem to dim as light streaked the sky. But he knew the adrenaline keeping her going would crash soon.
When he tore his eyes away from her sexy, smart-assed face and looked back at the road, a goat was standing smack in the middle of it. Instinct kicked in and Aidan steered the rental right of f the road and into a ditch with a jarring thump. He’d been in accidents before, but he could already tell that the car wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way to the ferry.
Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, he turned to Sophie. She was slumped against the door, breathing in shallow gasps. A gash on her forehead was dripping blood into her eyes.
“Slow down,” he ordered.
She continued breathing fast, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
“I said, slow down. You’re going to hyperventilate.” Her hands were clenched and shaking, even though he knew the motion had to hurt her damaged fingers. Aidan freed himself from the seatbelt and reached over to remove hers, then pulled her across the console and against his chest.
“Everything’s okay now,” he said, holding her with one arm and stroking her hair with the other. He didn’t feel any broken bones and she didn’t seem to be in pain. Just scared. The head wound would bleed, but it wasn’t serious, he knew.
Thank god she didn’t have any awkward bone injuries that would make getting her out of the country impossible. It was hard to disguise head wounds though, and Aidan didn’t look forward to public stares from passengers on the ferry who thought he was abusing his wife.
Of course, he was responsible for Sophie’s injuries. But she wasn’t his wife.
She wouldn’t or couldn’t stop her breathing. Her eyes grew large in her head, and she passed out in his arms.
They were three
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