Driving Her Crazy Page 4

  “So, why are you going to New York?”

  She glanced at him for a moment before turning back to look out her window. “My older sister’s wedding.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Family gatherings are always a blast.”

  “Depends on the family,” she murmured.

  Before he could dig into that kettle of worms, she lobbed his question back at him. “Why are you going to New York?”

  “Job interview.”

  “In New York?”

  The incredulity in her voice was downright offensive, no matter what kind of spin you put on it.

  “Why? You don’t think a grease monkey like me would make it in New York?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It just surprises me, that’s all. New York is a long way from North Carolina.”

  “That’s true enough. So what are you doing out in the sticks if your family is in New York?”

  She paused for a moment, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth. Hmmm, princess wasn’t too keen on answering that question, huh? Interesting.

  “I went to school at Duke. I was going to go to grad school but…that didn’t work out. So I just kind of…stayed.”

  “Why didn’t grad school work out?”

  She blew out a breath and turned to look at him, exasperation stamped clear on her face. “I was trying to get into a pre-med program.”

  “Really?”

  “What, you don’t think a girl like me can make it in med school?”

  He didn’t think it wise, or nice anyway, to say that, no, he didn’t think she’d make it in a medical program. She sat there in her perfectly put together outfit, not a hair out of place, with her soft, manicured hands that were as smooth as the day she’d come into the world. So picturing her up to her elbows in body fluids at the beck and call of the infirm? Yeah, he didn’t think so. But kudos to her for getting his own words to bite him in the ass.

  “Touché,” he said, laughing.

  A little shiver ran through her and her hand clenched on her thigh. Well, well. The spittin’ kitten wasn’t as unaffected by him as she liked to pretend. This could be fun.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, echoing her words back to her. “You just…”

  She faced him, her eyes narrowing. “I just what?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t seem the medical type.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “Very true. So, let’s get to know each other. We got a long trip ahead of us. Might as well make some conversation.”

  “You’re awful chatty for a guy.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am?”

  She looked back out at the raindrops that had started hitting the windshield again. “Chatting up a perfect stranger isn’t how most guys I know would want to spend their mornings.”

  “Well, most guys you know probably don’t find themselves alone in a tiny space with a perfect stranger with nothing else to do for the next twelve hours, either.”

  Her lips twitched. “Touché,” she muttered.

  Oz almost fist bumped the air in triumph. The princess had a funny bone, after all. Well, a little one, anyway. A knuckle, maybe.

  “So.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “So, what?”

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Ah, I don’t believe that.”

  She sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “I thought only children used that argument.”

  Oz shrugged. “I live with a child. He must have rubbed off on me. So spill it. Tell me about your family. Are you excited for your sister’s wedding? Or do you have family drama? What do you guys usually do for Christmas?”

  “Look, Nathaniel—”

  “I prefer Oz.”

  “I prefer Nathaniel.”

  “Seriously? It’s my name.”

  “But I’m the one who has to say it.”

  Fire flashed in those golden eyes of hers and parts of Oz that shouldn’t be interested perked up and said hello. No doubt about it, he definitely preferred the hellcat to the prim and proper routine. He must be out of his mind.

  “What? You don’t like nicknames?”

  The fire bled out of her eyes and she looked back out the window. “No. They are lo…too personal and informal.”

  Hmm. He’d be willing to bet those weren’t her words coming out of her mouth. As irritating as the woman was, even her prim and proper attitude was better than this somehow sad, resigned quietness. He wanted the kitty to show her claws again.

  “So why didn’t grad school work out? You aren’t going for pre-med anymore?”

  Cher straightened, every muscle visibly on edge, like a rubber band that someone was stretching to its breaking point. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed, the same loud, exasperated exhale that his sister made whenever he was being a pest. The similarity made him smile, which didn’t win him any points with Cher. Cherice. Whatever she wanted to be called. Her eyes narrowed. “My undergrad grades were decent but I totally bombed the MCATs, okay? I’d really rather not talk about it.”

  Touchy, touchy. “All right, then. So…what are you doing now?”

  “What do you do? And don’t you dare say you asked me first. I shared. It’s your turn.”

  “All right, all right. Fair’s fair. I’m a mechanic mostly. And on the weekends, I work as a janitor at the community college.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  That’s nice? It was painfully obvious she had no idea how to respond. He was probably the first mechanic/janitor she’d ever met.

  “Your turn again. Why didn’t you go back home after you…once you were done with school?”

  She was quiet enough he wasn’t sure she’d answer him. She kept her gaze on the rain trailing down her window, but she finally did. “Because crawling back home to listen to my perfect family repeatedly tell me what a failure I am didn’t seem like a fun thing to do.”

  “I’m sure they would have been supportive. They love you, right?”

  “Look, no offense, Nathaniel—”

  “Oz.”

  “Oh my god, Nathaniel, Oz, whatever. Ox is a more fitting a nickname if you insist on one.”

  “Why, am I stubborn or something?” he said, chuckling.

  Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, or something.”

  “Looked in a mirror lately?”

  Cher’s smile grew wider and she ducked her head. “Look, I’d rather not talk about my family right now, if it’s all the same to you. Ox.”

  “Nag.”

  Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “Nag. You know. From the movie with Walter Matthau and Sophia Loren. She calls him Ox, he calls her Nag.”

  She just blinked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

  “Never mind. You’ve probably never seen it.”

  “I’ve seen it,” she said, finally speaking.

  She just didn’t think he had. Got it. Oz gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and tried to let it go. “What’s with the attitude about your family?”

  Her jaw dropped and the spark was back in her eyes. “I don’t have an attitude about them.”

  “Yes, you do. Your whole body goes rigid every time I mention them.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said, running a finger down Cher’s arm. The warm flesh beneath his finger trembled until she jerked away. “See. Every muscle in your body is clenched.”

  “They are not. And stop looking at my body.” Her voice was annoyed, but a blush crept up her cheeks and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  He let a slow, seductive smile spread across his lips, before turning his attention back to the road. “I’m not looking. I was just using an example.�
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  “Whatever.”

  The small caveman part of him pounded his chest that he could affect her even though she seemed to be trying so hard to keep her distance. Then again, it didn’t really matter if she liked him or not. A girl like her would never stoop low enough to be interested in a guy like him.

  Which left egging her on the only option.

  “So…” he said.

  “So, what?”

  “Come on, spill the beans.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously, you have no filter, do you?”

  He just grinned at her. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, mouth slightly open…sort of like a monkey doing a math problem. Then she leaned over and turned the volume up on the stereo. Lynyrd Skynyrd blared from the speakers.

  “You like this song?” he asked.

  “Yep.” She turned her gaze out her window, shutting him out as effectively as she could without actually jumping from the moving vehicle.

  Oz snorted and leaned back, getting comfortable while he rocked out.

  “Oh! We need to stop,” he said, checking traffic behind him so he could pull the car over to the side of the road.

  “What? Why? We’ve only been on the road for like…” She checked her watch. “Thirty minutes. Barely. Is something wrong with the car?”

  Oz pointed out the window at the Welcome to Tennessee sign. “No. But I wanna take pictures at all the state-line signs so I can send them to Tyler.”

  The annoyance faded from her face, replaced by that soft aw how cute look women often got when men did something child related. That look usually made him nervous—the last thing he wanted was a baby-hungry woman throwing goo-goo eyes at him. At least at that exact moment in his life. But if it would get Cher to take his picture, he was happy to exploit it.

  “How about I just hang out the window and take it so only one of us is getting wet,” she said, grimacing through the windows at the rain splattering down.

  “Deal.” He handed her his phone and grabbed the door handle. “Ready?”

  She rolled down her window enough to get an unobstructed shot of the sign and nodded. “Go for it.”

  Oz jumped out of the car, ran to the sign and struck a goofy pose.

  The flash went off but before he could run back to the car she called out. “Hang on! It’s all blurry. Do it again.”

  He sighed and shoved his now sopping hair out of his face and posed again. She held the phone up but no flash went off.

  “Did you take it?” he called.

  “You keep moving, hold still.”

  He frowned. “I’m not moving. Just take it!”

  “Well now you’re frowning. Smile.”

  He grinned, though it was more like gritting his teeth. She turned the phone horizontally like she was going for a better angle. Then turned it back vertical.

  “Take the picture!” he said.

  The flash finally went off.

  “Did you get it that time?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I got it.” She lowered the phone and he caught sight of the little smile she failed to wipe from her face.

  Oh. So she wanted to play games? Keep him standing in the pouring rain so he got totally soaked? Well then, it would be only fair to give her something to look at for all her troubles.

  Oz got to the driver’s side but didn’t get in the car right away. Instead, he whipped off his shirt, letting the rain run in rivulets down the muscles of his chest while he made a big show of wringing it out. He leaned in to chuck the shirt into the backseat and then straightened up, arching his back a little while he ran both hands through his hair, getting all the wet strands from his face.

  He finally slid back into the car. Cher stared at him, her face flushed and her mouth hanging open. He leaned across her, his own grin on his face while he opened the glove box and dug around.

  She made a little “eep!” sound and pressed herself back against her seat.

  “You’re getting me all wet!” she said.

  Oz closed his eyes briefly, an altogether different context for that phrase invading his mind. She had no idea how wet he could get her if he really tried. God, it really had been too long since he’d had a date. He’d have to remedy that when he got back from this little road trip from hell.

  “Just looking for some napkins or something to dry off,” he explained.

  “Well, if you’ll move, I have some tissues in my purse…”

  He grinned at her and sat back, taking his time to retreat back to his side of the car. She glared at him but reached down and snagged her purse from the floorboard, retrieving a small packet of travel tissues from its depths. She tossed them at him.

  He extracted a few and made another show of wiping the water from his skin. She watched for a second, a sigh escaping that full mouth of hers. His smile widened and she blinked, apparently figuring out that she’d been ogling him. She glared at him again and moved back as far as she could against her door, her arms crossed over her chest while she kept her gaze firmly glued to the view outside her window.

  Oz chuckled and finished drying himself off. He leaned over into the backseat and rummaged in his bag for a spare T-shirt. Cher visibly relaxed once he’d pulled it over his head.

  “Here,” she said, handing him back his phone. He checked out the picture.

  “A little blurry but it’ll work. One down, six more to go.”

  “Six?” she asked, shocked.

  “Yup. We just got Tennessee. Virginia is about forty more minutes up the road. Then West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York.”

  Cher leaned back against her headrest and closed her eyes. “Fantastic.”

  Oz snorted. Oh yeah. This trip was going to be a riot.

  Chapter Five

  Cherice woke when the car pulled to a stop. She blinked and peeled her face away from the window, looking in horror at the streak of what had to be drool that had crusted to the glass. She wiped her mouth, hoping Nathaniel hadn’t noticed. Not that she cared what he thought of her or anything. But still. Gross.

  “I need a pit stop,” he said, opening his door.

  “A what?”

  “Bathroom break. If you want any snacks or need a bathroom run, you might want to do it now. Unless you want to go somewhere and grab some lunch?”

  She stepped out of the car and looked around the tiny town. At least she assumed it was a town. It was green and beautiful like everything else they’d passed, but aside from the ramshackle gas station they’d pulled into, there was nothing else in sight except for an old farmhouse in the distance and a few rundown shops across the street. And damn, it was hot. She pulled off the thin sweater that covered her shoulders, leaving on just the silk shell and she fanned herself with her hand. But that did nothing at all to cool her off.

  “Is there anywhere around here to get anything to eat? Where are we?”

  Nathaniel glanced around. “Somewhere in the middle of Virginia. There was a diner not too far back. And I’m sure we can find a McDonald’s or something up the road somewhere.”

  Cherice repressed a shudder. “I think I’ll just see what I can find in there.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He leaned back, bending far enough to pop his back, exposing a nicely muscled strip of toned belly at the same time. Her eyes zeroed in on that deliciously taut skin, her mind happily fixating on the memory of what other bits of goodness were hiding under his shirt, before she made herself look away. She had no business drooling on him. Over him! She meant over him. An uncomfortably warm breeze whipped through the station and ruffled Nathaniel’s light brown hair. Cherice had the sudden urge to run her fingers through it, find out if it was as soft as it looked. The thought was immediately followed by a rush of shame so strong her cheeks burned with it. The man was married. Her neglected libido really needed to get that important fact wrapped around its head.

  He looked over his shoulder and caught her staring at him. Those eyes of his
…Cherice couldn’t help but fall into them. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact color. Blue, yes. But darker than cornflower blue. Not quite sapphire. Almost a blue-gray. She wondered if his eyes changed colors depending on what he wore.

  His forehead creased a little in confusion, but when she didn’t drop her gaze right away he gave her a small smile. Cherice blinked, the smile shaking her out of whatever mind haze she was in. They’d been on the road just a few hours and he was already an almost constant thought running through her head. In her defense, concentrating on the lovely male specimen before her was a lot better than dwelling on the miserable weekend ahead of her. But seeing as how the object of her obsession was married, she really needed to rein in it. She tore her gaze from his and ran her hand over her hair, making sure it was still firmly captured in the ponytail.

  “I’m going to run inside. Are you coming?”

  Cherice shook her head and pulled out her phone. “I need to check some emails real quick.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in a few.”

  She nodded, not really paying attention as she scrolled through a few emails from work, one or two from friends, and a cat video or two. She responded to the ones that needed responding to and then put her phone away, reaching into the backseat to grab her suitcase so she could put her sweater away. Despite the rain, the air hung hot and heavy. The sweater wouldn’t be needed any time soon. The zipper jammed when she tried to open it and she had to get out of the car to drag it out and prop it up on the trunk instead.

  Cherice tugged on the zipper but it didn’t budge. It had jammed enough that she couldn’t zip the thing back up or unzip it fully. And it was enough of a pain, she was about ready to give it up. One more try. Maybe if she propped it on its side so she could tug downward, it would give her a little better leverage.

  She tilted the case on the end of the trunk so she could yank without slamming her hand into the car. She got a good grip on the zipper and tugged with all her strength. It finally gave. But she tugged too hard and the momentum followed through, jerking the suitcase right off the car.

  “Cher, be care—”

  The lid swung wide, spilling the contents out onto the wet asphalt. Nathaniel hurried over, his hands full of hot dogs and bags of junk food.