That was a direct hit. And it fucking hurt. She didn't want to know anything about me anymore. Had I damaged everything between us? Didn't she want me anymore? "Tell me why you left," she said after a moment. She'd asked it so softly, her voice so maddeningly small that my chest ached. "I'll show you when we get to where we're going. Will you wait till then?" I asked. She nodded but didn't say anything. Did that mean she wouldn't tell me about that guy until we were there? I sighed loudly, blowing my hair off my forehead. "He's just a friend from church," she finally showed pity and answered. I heard a smile in her voice. "He's not your boyfriend." "Well..." I shot her a look. Her hazel eyes were full of mischief. Just the way I liked it, but not when she was torturing me like this. Not about another guy. I gripped the steering wheel, imagining it was the guy's neck. "Do you see now how it can drive you crazy not knowing what I'm thinking? When I won't tell you anything?" I kept my mouth shut. She got me there. I knew it. I knew it well now. "It's frustrating, isn't it?" she went on, but now she sounded sad and that hit me deeper than her anger. "Doesn't it make you assume things?" she continued. "Make you feel awful that you're even contemplating about it?" It did. "I won't know what you're thinking if you don't tell me." I nodded. She sighed, then leaned back on her seat. After a moment she said, "He is a boy friend." "What?" "A guy friend. I like him." "You. Like. Him." "Yeah," she said cheekily. "I like him." Her tone said What are you going to do about it, big guy? "I could crush him like nothing," I growled. I really fucking could. She laughed. A very feminine laugh that made my gut clench. "You sound like a jealous boyfriend." "I am your boyfriend." "No, you're not." She was right, but that stung. She didn't sound repulsed by the idea, so there was still a chance that she wanted me to be. I'd convince her. "You don't have a boyfriend." "Not yet." She put an emphasis on the yet. What the hell was she trying to tell me? She wanted this guy to be her boyfriend? If she did she wouldn't be here with me. She was toying with me, baiting me to respond. She knew I was jealous, and this was driving me crazy, but she wouldn't show any mercy. I guessed I deserved that. Again, I kept my mouth wisely shut. She was wearing another dress today. It was pale pink, and she'd paired it with black stockings—the sheer kind. The kind that drove a man wild. My eyes roved down to her legs. She had long, long legs. Shapely ones. The skirt of her dress rode high above her upper thighs, hinting at the sweet V shape where the length of her legs met. My hands itched to touch. "I'm hungry," she said suddenly. I sucked at my bottom lip. Me too. "I have"—Jesus, my voice sounded rough—"some food in my cooler. It's in the back." "You bring a cooler to work?" There was curiosity in her voice. I didn't realize how much it meant to me that she wanted to know me until she took it away. "I have to eat something every hour or so," I answered. "I get hungry a lot." I could feel her eyes travel down my body. "I could see that." She muttered something else under her breath that sounded like "is that why you're big?" but I wasn't sure I heard her properly. She unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted her body so she could reach over the backseat, her arm accidentally grazing mine. I clenched my jaw. When she returned to her seat, she placed the cooler on her lap. She didn't seem affected by that little contact. At all. "Seatbelt," I growled. She ignored me and opened the cooler. "Woah. Did you put your fridge in here or what?" "I'm pulling over if you don't put your seatbelt on." "Fine." But it took her another minute before doing it. "Holy crap. These are some monster sandwiches. What kind are these?" I didn't know how to cook. I just usually slapped some bread, a lot of lean meat and cheese together and call it a meal. There were probably five big sandwiches in the cooler. I wasn't kidding when I told her I got hungry every hour. "Ham, chicken. I don't know. Food stuff," I said. "I'm vegetarian." "What's a vegetarian?" She glared at me for a moment, staring at my face, then laughed. "I'm serious. I'm hungry," she grumbled. "There's a service station up ahead. I'll get you something to eat there," I said. She grabbed something in her purse, squirted something in her hand and rubbed it all over them. It smelled like alcohol and peaches. A hand sanitizer probably. "So what should I get you there?" I asked, wanting to keep her talking. The sadness in her voice was leaving. I wanted her to be happy, like she was before. With me. "I'm not sure if they serve smoked wild alfalfa sprouts a la carte there, but I'll try," I teased. "Was that a dad joke?" she teased back, and when I smirked she pinched my arm.