Wyatt
I caught my breath, collected myself and walked to the light switch, flipping it on. I watched Layne squint in the light. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving as much as mine.
Closing the distance between us I swept her into my arms, lifting her petite frame off the floor as I crushed her in a bear hug. “We did it!”
She laughed. “We did!”
“That was bloody amazing!” I said, spinning her around. “I knew you had a diva buried deep down in there somewhere!”
Giggles erupted from her so suddenly I nearly dropped her. It wasn’t the sound so much as what it did to my insides that shocked me. I set her down and took a step back, hiding my alarming rush of emotion behind the safety of sarcasm. “Penny Layne, you’ve been holding out on me.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“That voice! You can sing.”
Her cheeks turned that pretty shade of pink I was beginning to crave.
“And you can play,” she shot back, nodding at the piano. “How can you play like that and not read music?”
I shrugged. “I was just messing around.”
She glared at me. “You know, if I wasn’t already a member of the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club, that comment right there would’ve made me join.”
I winked. “What can I say, I’m hard to love.”
The way she quickly looked away made me think she thought the opposite, which stirred my desire. Maybe this two-week distraction would be more fun than I’d thought. “I’d say we’re off and running, Penny Layne.”
“It’s a solid start,” she agreed.
“Shall we call it a night?”
She nodded. “Sure. We can work on the next song tomorrow.”
“I think we should perfect this one first.”
“It sounded pretty perfect to me,” she replied.
I gave her a smoldering grin. “This is just the beginning,” I teased, quoting the song. “When we’re done, I want to feel torn open.”
Layne flushed as I recited her lyrics. “I guess there’s always room for improvement,” she admitted, stuffing her things into her bag and shrugging on her coat.
“Need a ride?” I asked, flipping my keys in my hand.
“What I need are my glasses,” she said, holding her hand out.
I’d almost forgot. I slipped them off my head, but before handing them back I stepped closer, taking in her unencumbered features—creamy skin, delicate chin, heart-shaped lips and stunning big brown eyes. “You know,” I said, my voice gravelly and low. “Your eyes are kind of beautiful. You should go without glasses more often.” I placed them into her hands, unable to resist letting my fingers unnecessarily brush across hers. Layne’s cheeks flamed.
It was too easy.
I smirked and in a moment of mercy, opened the door, letting Layne and her pretty pink cheeks escape to the hall.
“So, what do you say?” I asked. “Do you want a ride home?”
“With you?”
I pretended to look around the empty music wing as we walked down the hall toward the parking lot. “Do you have a better offer?”
“No, I just didn’t expect you to have your car back.”
“Yeah, well turns out my mother’s easier to win over than you are.” She rolled her eyes as a thought dawned on me. “How were you planning to get home tonight?”
“I was going to walk.”
I balked. I didn’t know where she lived, but the coffee shop we’d been at yesterday was at least three miles from school and there weren’t a lot of houses in between. “Do you always walk?”
“No. I told you, Lola is usually my ride.”
“Don’t you have your driver’s license?”
“Yes.” Layne offered nothing more.
“Then why don’t you just drive yourself?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“Just trying this small talk I’ve heard so much about,” I teased.
I caught a whisper of a smile on her lips. “Not all of us can afford BMWs, Wyatt.”
“Pssh! A BMW? It’s like you don’t know me at all, Penny Layne,” I teased, knocking my shoulder into hers to deepen her smile.
“Okay, smart guy, what do you drive?”
“An American classic, of course.”
“Of course.”
I beat Layne to the exit and opened the door to the parking lot. I couldn’t help picking up my pace, more than a bit excited to show off my baby.
“This is Scarlet,” I announced proudly as we approached my 1969 Firebird Coupe. “Three-hundred and fifty horses of pure American muscle under the hood,” I said, patting the shiny red paint job affectionately.
“She’s beautiful,” Layne said, playing along.
“Thank you.”
I walked to the passenger side and used my key to unlock the door for her, wondering if the invention of automatic locks were to blame for such gentlemanly acts disappearing.
“Thanks,” Layne said, ready to slide into the supple leather interior.
I put a hand on her waist to stop her. “Not so fast. You have to agree to the rules first.”
“There are rules?”
“No eating or drinking in the car, that includes chewing gum,” I added sternly, remembering the time I’d taken Nicole Fraser to the movies and had to drive home in my underwear when her obnoxious neighbor dumped soda all over me because he was secretly in love with her. I’d been in such a foul mood I hadn’t noticed I’d stepped in gum and got it all over my poor baby’s floor mat.
“Reasonable,” Layne offered.
“And no one touches the radio but me.”
She smirked. “I can live with that.”
I opened the door wide and stepped back. “Then your chariot awaits.”
She rolled her eyes, but a hint of her smile was still there.
Chapter Fifteen
Layne
“So, where do you live?” Wyatt asked, pulling me from my reverie.
I’d been fully absorbed in the warmth and comfort of Scarlet’s plush leather interior. I never fancied myself a car girl, but this wasn’t really a car, it was a work of art.
Wyatt kept it in immaculate condition and despite it being a classic, Scarlet wrapped me in her intoxicating mixture of new car smell with a hint of leather. That combination along with the sweet sounds of Jim Morrison serenading me from the radio had lulled me into a dreamlike state.
But of course, I’d been rudely ripped from my daydream with thoughts of Wyatt seeing my house.
I looked around, quickly getting my bearings. We were just approaching Main Street. “Um, you can just drop me off here.”
Wyatt glanced at me quickly. His crooked smile seemed to say he thought I was joking.
“N-no, really,” I stammered. “Just drop me at the coffee shop. I want to grab a cup.”
He gave me another odd sideways glance. “I can stop for a coffee if you’d like.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to hold you up.”
He slowed the car and eased it to the curb by the coffee shop, putting it in park. Wyatt slung a lazy arm over the back of my seat, hitting me with the full weight of his gorgeous green eyes. “What’s going on, Penny Layne? Embarrassed to bring the riffraff home?” His dark eyebrows wagged playfully.