Eternal (28 page)

Della needed a laugh. Once or twice, she saw the temptation in Miranda's eyes to bring up what Della had told her about Chase and the whole his-hand-her-hand thing, but the girl must have read Della's “I'll-kill-you” glare and bypassed that conversation. Della had no need to talk about that.

Especially after Holiday's little talk. Not that Holiday made her feel any different, but she didn't want Burnett to get wind of anything and really start flipping out.

Miranda didn't mention if she'd called Shawn. Della decided that she wouldn't push any more. It had to be Miranda's decision. But if she started back into the ice cream and tears mode, Della might change her mind.

She couldn't, wouldn't, stand by and watch her friend suffer and punish herself for a boy's stupidity. And yes, she considered Perry stupid. Miranda cared about him, and for him to ask for a break, when in fact he cared about her, too, was stupid.

After such a fun lunch, the day seemed lighter. After school, Della waited for Chase at the front gate. Burnett had to leave on another case so they weren't going to get their regular rule-checking meeting first. The plan was to go back to Uck's Burgers and see if she picked up any more traces of weres.

When Chase's blue Camaro pulled up, she moved to the car. She hadn't driven in a car this much in months, and while she loved flying, all the car time made her feel a little more human. Like a real teenager. And that was kind of nice.

He came to a stop right beside her. His hair was windblown, he wore sunglasses, and his smile held the warmth of the sun. She felt the familiar thrill she got every time she saw him. The bonding? Or was it like Holiday said, just normal romance stuff? But for right now, she didn't want to think or judge. When she jumped over the door, landing in the passenger seat, he held out a bag.

“What's this?” she asked.

“I bought you some new hair bands. You keep taking them and not bringing them back.”

She took the bag, and when she turned it over in her lap, more than just hair bands came out. A small stuffed Smurf—Smurfette—fell into her lap. She looked at him.

His grin widened. “I'm sorry, I saw it and I had to buy it. Seriously, I tried to walk away and couldn't. It called my name and wouldn't let me leave. And you should have seen the look I got from the big bald tattooed guy at the register.”

Before she realized it, she was smiling back. “Thank you,” she said.

“You're welcome.” Their eyes met and held for a second too long.

She pulled one of the hair bands loose and put it in her hair. He watched her and she saw his gaze slip to her breasts for a couple beats, and she sensed he was remembering their time in the closet. And, for one tiny second, she almost envied Natasha, who had lived it all while she'd only gotten to live a few seconds of it. How odd was it that a girl facing death was experiencing and letting herself live more than Della was?

“We should go,” she said, remembering her conversation with Holiday.

“Yeah.” He started the car, and as he backed up, he put his hand on the back of the passenger seat, twisting around to look over his shoulder. The move came off as something he always did when he was backing up. But while his hand was there, his fingers brushed against her bare neck. The touch, accidental or intentional, sent a sweet shiver down her spine.

She watched as he drove out of the parking lot, shifting gears. Something about the process just seemed cool. She recalled how when she was younger and her dad would watch the car races, she'd been sort of captivated by the drivers in the cars. When she looked up, Chase was watching her again.

After a few minutes, enjoying the wind in her hair, she noted he'd turned onto a back road.

“Where are you going?”

“You'll see,” he said.

He drove a few more miles and then pulled into what looked like a country road that ended in an undeveloped subdivision. There were roads, but no houses. He parked the car and then got out and came around to her side.

“What're you doing?” she asked, still in the passenger seat, looking up at him and seeing herself in his sunglasses. For one second, the vision reminded her of the old Della, one who could have enjoyed just taking a drive with a good-looking boy.

“Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Get behind the wheel. I want you to drive.”

“No.” She shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth and tickling the back of her neck. “I told you I don't know how to drive a stick shift.”

“You don't know how to drive a stick shift … yet. I'm going to teach you.”

“I … I don't—”

Before she knew what he intended to do, he slipped into the seat beside her, scooped her up and over the console and gearshift, setting her in the driver's seat. The quick touch against her butt sent another wave of tingles through her.

She frowned at him, but he just smiled. He was having fun. And God help her, so was she. Maybe it was the lunch of just laughing with friends. Maybe it was the fact that this felt different because she could try something new without having to listen to Burnett ramble on about danger and rules. Or maybe she was tired of the pressure of everything, and, for just a little while, she wanted to forget and have fun.

“Now,” he said. “See the pedals? It's just like an automatic or a regular car. But it has another pedal. The first one to your left is the clutch, the second is the brake, and the third is the gas. When you start the car and put it in gear, you are going to push the clutch in, then slowly let it out as you push on the gas. It's that easy. Clutch releases as gas increases. Then you take your foot off the clutch.”

Della had her head turned sideways looking at the pedals. “It's not that easy, you have to change the gears.”

“Yeah, but that's simple. When the car needs another gear, you'll hear and feel it. You let off the gas and do the same thing, clutch in, change gears, then gas again.”

He caught her hand in his and put it on the gearshift. His palm stayed on top of hers to show her how to shift. “Here's first. Do you feel that?”

She felt his hand. Felt the tingles. “Yeah,” she said, hoping her voice didn't sound as wispy as she felt on the inside.

“Here's second.” He moved the shift down. His thumb inched up and down beside her pinkie, sending all kinds of warm wonderful zings to her heart.

He went through all the different gears. Della tried hard to think about the placement of the gears and not the placement of his hand.

“Now you do it.” He moved his hand from on top of hers. Only pride kept her from pretending she couldn't do it and having him show her again.

She did as he showed her. The only one she couldn't find was sixth gear.

“Right here.” His shifted a little closer, his hand pressed on top of hers again as he showed her the slight move of down and slightly to the right side. “Do you feel it?”

“Yeah.” She felt everything. How he'd slipped his left arm over the back of her seat and how his forearm now brushed against her shoulders. How when he spoke this close, his breath tickled her cheek.

“You ready to try?” he asked.

She looked at him. His question echoed inside her. Was she ready? Ready to stop fighting what she felt? Fighting the so-called “bond” that made something inside her feel complete?

The answer whispered across her mind. Maybe.

“Yeah,” she answered him, while the “maybe” was all she could give her own question. And she knew what held her back. She still wasn't completely sure he didn't know more about who'd sent him to make sure she got through the rebirth.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's do it.”

She had to adjust the seat to make sure she could reach the pedals. Taking a deep breath, wanting to master this, she put the car in neutral, put her foot on the clutch, and turned the ignition. She felt him watching her and cut him a smile. “Piece of cake.”

The way he'd parked meant she didn't have to put the car in reverse, so she put it in first. She did as he said, put her foot on the gas, and slowly released the clutch. The car moved forward. A sense of victory waved over her, but jolted to a stop at the same time the car sputtered and died.

“What happened?” she asked, looking at him. His grin made her moan.

“You let the clutch out too fast. You need to let it out slower. But you almost had it. Try again.”

Determined to do it, she repeated her steps. And this time, the car moved about twenty feet before it sputtered and died.

She growled, thumped the steering wheel, and shot him an unhappy look. “Something's wrong.”

“It's not wrong. It just takes a little finesse.” He chuckled.

“Stop laughing,” she said.

“Hey, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because … because I remember Jimmy trying to teach me. And because I love … being here. With you. With you not fighting me, but fighting my car.” He leaned in. “Try again.”

His lips were so close. Then they lightly brushed against hers.

 

Chapter Thirty-one

“For luck,” Chase said, then he pulled back as if frightened Della was going to be pissed off.

She wasn't. Or maybe a part of her was, but she didn't want to let that part matter right now.

When she didn't say anything, didn't complain, he did it again. This time, the kiss lasted a few seconds.

She put her hand on his chest and gave him a slight push. “You're supposed to be teaching me to drive your car.”

His tongue came out and passed over his bottom lip. “Okay,” he said, his smile so bright that damn it if it didn't make her want to kiss him again. Then he gave her ponytail a yank. “Remember, slow and easy.”

Yeah, she thought. That's how she wanted to take this thing. Slow and easy.

After about three more tries, she finally got it. “See,” he said. “I told you you'd get it.”

She started driving a little faster. The wind felt good; the rumble of the engine felt good. She felt powerful.

“It's almost as good as flying, isn't it?” he asked, watching her drive down one paved street to another.

“It might even be better,” she said, changing gears and loving how smooth she was able to make the shift. “How fast can it go?” she asked and glanced at him.

“It's fast,” he said. “Push it a little.”

She looked around and there wasn't another car in sight. So she did it. She pushed her foot on the gas and felt the roar. Glancing at the speedometer, she saw she'd hit ninety miles an hour.

She was just about to let off the gas when she heard the sirens.

“Shit! My father's gonna kill me,” she muttered. Before she could say anything else, before she could even look into the rearview mirror, Chase had grabbed the wheel with one hand, lifted her ass with the other, and swapped places.

Then he quickly slowed the car down and pulled over.

“What are you doing?” she asked, snapping her head around to watch the police car come to a stop behind them.

“Making sure your father doesn't kill you,” he said. “Because if he hurt you, I'd have to teach him a lesson, and that's not a way to start our relationship.”

She started to tell him they didn't have a relationship, but then she bit down on her lip. “It's a convertible; he probably saw I was driving.”

“You were going so fast, he couldn't tell who was driving.”

Della looked at him. “Right.
I
was going fast. I was the one—”

“It's okay,” he said. “Just let me handle this.”

“But, it's my fault. You shouldn't—”

“I'm the one who forced you to drive.”

She could hear the litany, the one her dad gave each and every time she took the car out. The one about the danger of texting and driving. About … “Your insurance will go up and—”

“Money isn't a problem.”

“Won't your dad … I mean, Jimmy, be upset? I don't want you taking the blame for something I—”

Chase reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet, getting ready to take the blame for this. “I'm eighteen, Jimmy doesn't parent me anymore.”

Della looked back at the police car again, feeling almost sick. “What's he doing? Why isn't he coming over here?”

“Don't worry. He's just checking to see if the car is listed as stolen.”

She cut Chase a panicked look. “Crap! It's not, is it?”

He shot her a frown. “I'm not a thief.”

“I know … I'm sorry, it's just … I've never been pulled over before.”

“Just calm down. We're not going to be arrested.”

“Oh, God, I didn't even think about that. My dad would really kill me then. And Burnett … he'd kill me again. What was I thinking? I shouldn't have been speeding. Oh, Lordy, I got us in this mess!”

Chase reached over and touched her shoulder. “Chill. It's going to be fine. If speeding is the worst thing you do, you're good.” Then he grinned. “You're cute when you're scared.”

She slapped his hand. “I'm not scared. I'm … worried.”

“I know, but it's going to be fine. I promise. Trust me. And no one will ever find out. Not your dad or Burnett. This is our secret.”

She stared at his light green eyes. And a part of her did trust him. But only part.

All of a sudden, she felt guilty. Guilty for taking the time to have fun when they should have been looking for Natasha and Liam.

She shot another look at the police car and started tapping her feet on the floorboard. “Seriously, what's taking him so long?”

Chase touched her shoulder again. “Calm down or he's going to think I kidnapped you or something.”

“Okay. I'm calming down. I am.” She stared straight ahead. Then, taking a couple of deep breaths, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.