She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t like the way heat rushed into her cheeks, making her blush like the flustered teenager she’d once been around him.
Lucas shifted his weight. “Is your grandmother in bed?”
“Yes. She turns in early. Actually, she spends mo
re time in bed than out these days.”
“Will you go for a drive with me?”
Rachel wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “You want to go for a drive? Now?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Someplace where we can talk.”
Going off in a car alone with Lucas sounded like a really bad idea to Rachel. So why was she even considering it?
“I don’t...”
“Does your grandmother need you here?”
“No. As I said, she’s sleeping. But...”
“You said you weren’t afraid of me,” Lucas reminded her.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” she hedged.
Lucas exhaled impatiently, and took a step back from her. “Look, if you don’t want to go, just say so.”
He sounded so much like the impatient, temperamental young man she’d known that her heart ached. He was already moving away. He had too much pride to beg her to go with him—and she wouldn’t have wanted Lucas to beg, anyway.
“Lucas,” she called out impulsively.
Without pausing, he looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“Will you wait until I get my purse?”
He stopped. “Yeah.”
She was probably being an idiot—but there was nothing new about that where Lucas McBride was concerned.
“I’ll be right back.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the trunk of the massive oak that shaded her grandmother’s backyard in the summer. “Take your time,” he said, patient now that he had the answer he wanted.
Rachel took less than ten minutes. Any longer, and she probably would have talked herself out of this impulsive behavior.
Fifteen years ago, Lucas had driven a battered old pickup truck. He’d bought it with the money he’d earned working at a series of odd jobs from the time he was twelve years old.
The sleek black sports car he drove now was a lot different from that old truck. She studied the vehicle’s interior while Lucas walked around to his side after closing her door for her. The instrument panel was framed in glossy hardwood, and the stereo system was fancier than the one she had in her apartment in Atlanta.
“Nice car,” she said as Lucas slid behind the wheel. She needed to say something—being closed into the small, cozy space with him had made her heart suddenly start to trip in a manner that threatened her hard-won composure.
“I rented it at the Atlanta airport. It’s a lot like the one I drive in California.” He started the engine. It purred like a powerful jungle cat.
Rachel fastened her seat belt.