Free Night Driving by Lori Wilde

U-Haul getting stuck in the median, but miraculously, she traversed it and joined the flow of traffic headed in the opposite direction.
    She changed lanes, easing over and taking the next exit.
    He started to ask where she was going, but decided against it. He was afraid of what she might do next. She was quicksilver, unpredictable, and damn if that didn’t excite him.
    At the intersection, which in Nowhere, Nebraska, consisted of nothing more than a two-way stop sign, she went back the direction they’d been traveling, but instead of merging onto the freeway, she took off down a one-lane dirt road that ran through the cornfields. She sped along, dust billowing out behind them.
    “Happy now?” She glared.
    “Tara—”
    She raised a palm. “I don’t want to hear about it, Boone. You got what you wanted. We’re no longer stuck in traffic and we’re headed south to Miami.”
    “Tara—”
    “No, I’m not going to listen. I know what you’re going to say. I’m an airhead, a flake. It was a very stupid thing, jumping the median. I probably broke a dozen laws. I’m sure I screwed up something on the U-Haul and that’ll cost money, but you are on your way. You got what you wanted. So be happy. I don’t want to hear whatever criticism you’ve got loaded up for me.”
    “Tara,” he insisted softly.
    She heaved a big sigh and for the first time since she broke ranks from the traffic jam, she switched her attention to meet his eyes. “What? Just what the hell is it, Boone?”
    “I’m sorry.”

5
    Wednesday, July 1, 6:55 p.m.
    W ELL , B OONE ’ S APOLOGY was unexpected. She hadn’t known the man was capable of remorse.
    “And thank you,” he added.
    She eyed him suspiciously. He didn’t look like he was being sarcastic. Still, he had the power to crush her to dust with his biting commentary, so she didn’t trust his earnest tone.
    “I was acting like a tool.”
    “Yes, you were. A right contentious hammer. Bam, bam, bamming me flat as an innocent nail.”
    “I could blame it on my military training, but I won’t.”
    “Contrite and taking responsibility? I guess this means I have to forgive you,” she answered, softening already.
    She was so easy. She had every right to stay mad at him, but the truth was she hated hanging on to resentment. It was so much easier to forgive than pout.
    “You’re right,” he conceded. “I do have control issues.”
    She fake-gasped. “Shocker.”
    His lips pulled straight back in a wry smile. “The army psychologist said it was because my mother abandoned me, but I don’t believe in that blame-it-all-on-your-mother mumbo-jumbo. Fact is, I can sometimes be hard to handle when things don’t go my way.”
    “I’ve noticed.”
    “I’m working on it. Forgive me?”
    Hey, if he had the guts to admit when he was wrong, she had the grace to accept. “Water under the bridge.”
    They were traveling deeper and deeper into endless cornfields and they hadn’t passed one single vehicle in the past fifteen minutes they’d been on the one-lane road. The sun was slipping toward the horizon. She suppressed the urge to turn around and go back the way they’d come. Only road construction waited for them back there. This was her bluff to snap Boone out of his grumpiness and she was stuck with it.
    Hell, she wished she could turn the car over to him. Give the man the control he longed for. Sit back, relax and not have to worry about the trailer she was hauling behind her. But that was out of the question.
    “How’s the knee?” she asked.
    “You don’t have to keep asking about it. You’re not my mother or my nursemaid.”
    “Don’t get all defensive. I’m asking because I feel guilty for bouncing you all over the interstate.”
    “I’ll live.” He shifted in his seat.
    She sneaked another quick glance at him. He looked amused and that surprised her. “What is it?”
    “You should have seen the expression on your face when you left that highway.” He chuckled.