Stalling seemed like a good idea. “You know, Josh, it’s nice to see you so passionate about something. You really love this old Camaro, huh?”
“This is a Corvette,” he said, white-knuckling the armrest. “And she doesn’t appreciate being called old. Let’s get this over with.”
So much for diversion tactics. Clara braced herself and then slowly backed the car out of the driveway.
Josh’s eyes kept flickering between her face and the road.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You’re making me more nervous.”
“Sorry.” Josh slumped back in his seat. “No one’s ever asked me to be the good guy before.”
“What do you mean?” The street they lived on didn’t attract much attention, but she needed to navigate all the cars parked along the curb. Each time she passed a new obstacle, she held her breath.
“I mean this whole situation, being the hero, the one who comes through in a damsel’s moment of need. It’s new for me. I’m finding it a bit unsettling.”
“I’m not a damsel.” Clara’s sweaty palms threatened her grip on the steering wheel. She wiped them one by one on the shorts of her overalls.
“Sure, you are. A young, unmarried woman of noble birth.”
Clara shook her head as they approached a stoplight. “Did you just quote Merriam-Webster?”
“My mom used to read us fairy tales when I was little. I looked up the words I didn’t know.”
A smile threatened the corners of Clara’s mouth until they reached a four-way intersection.
“Clara? Hey. Are you okay?
Her eyes began to water. She tried to tip her chin up without losing sight of the road.
Josh dug in the glove box until he’d removed a handful of tissues. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“I’m sure,” she said, with only a hint of a tremble in her voice.
When she didn’t reach for the Kleenex, Josh dabbed carefully at her eyes, stemming the leak.
“Thanks.” Clara’s cheeks heated. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I feel like I’m close to overcoming this.” She straightened her shoulder blades. “Like if I can just reach out far enough, I can brush victory with my fingertips. That probably sounds dumb, right?”
“No. I’m pretty sure you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Objectively.” His eyes warmed in the same way they had during dinner when he’d said she looked like trouble. She didn’t have time to worry about the meaning behind that look.
“My aunt’s going out on a limb for me and I want to show up for her, you know?”
“I know,” he said. “Hey, would it help if I sang? Ya know, something soothing.” He started in on the first few bars of “Walking on Sunshine.”
Josh had terrible pitch and he smacked his hand on the armrest in his attempt to emphasize a high note, but the gesture cut through some of Clara’s numbness.
I used to think maybe you loved me . . . now, baby, I’m sure. Her heart fluttered. “You’re a terrible singer.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” He cupped a hand over his ear. “Sing louder?”
Clara tapped the brakes too hard and winced.
Josh fell silent.
They’d reached the entrance to the freeway. Clara slowed the car at the metered on-ramp, even though she knew the green light meant go.
She brought the Corvette to a halt and the car behind her honked in protest.
Clara tried to focus on breathing. In and out. In and out. Each time a new horn blasted she took it like a kick to the temple. In and out. In and out.
Her hands shook on the steering wheel, vibrating so intensely the kickback reverberated in her shoulders.
“Jesus, Clara. This isn’t nerves. This is terror.” His voice wavered. “Let’s forget it,” he said gently. He coaxed her to pull onto the shoulder. “I’ll drive you wherever you need to go. Driving isn’t worth this.”
Clara’s teeth chattered despite the early summer heat as she set the Corvette to a crawl while other cars whistled past them. She caught Josh’s gaze from the corner of her eye. “I can do it.”
He nodded his head once, making his long curls bounce. “All right. Then talk to me.”
“What?” She shouldn’t be on the shoulder. Someone had probably already called the cops on her. Any minute now the guy in that truck would get out and get in her face.
“Focus on my voice,” Josh said. “It works on set when people get nervous. When they can’t get past the cameras and the lights.”
“This was a mistake.” Oliver’s screams started, playing on a loop along with the sounds of metal crumpling and tires screeching. She fought the impulse to plug her ears with her fingers.
“Just keep talking.”
“I’m a judgmental person,” she blurted out.
His chuckle came out in a rumble. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Her eyes flicked to her rearview mirror. “I’m serious. I readily admit it. I meet a person, and I make a decision about their character within half an hour. I have an outstanding track record. My hypothesis is right roughly ninety percent of the time. But on the rare occasion I’m wrong, it’s a thrill. Some people are like an iceberg, with the dangerous and beautiful parts hidden below the surface.”
“Are you trying to say I’m a dangerous and beautiful iceberg?”
Clara huffed. “More like an ice cap.” Her gaze shot from the freeway to her hands on the steering wheel, and then back at the road. “I’m trying to say thanks.”
“Thank me after,” Josh said.
“There may not be an after. I think I’ve reached my limit.”
“Okay, here are our options. You can merge, or we can sit here and talk about yesterday when I had my hands on your—”
Clara pressed her foot to the gas pedal almost without thinking. Josh had managed to find the one thing that made her more nervous than driving.
* * *
• • •
JOSH HOWLED TRIUMPHANTLY, pumping his fist in the air to knock the roof of the car. “Do you see what’s happening right now? Because you, Clara Wheaton, are keeping pace on the freeway. I feel like you need to let out some kind of primal yell.”
Aside from a tiny arch in her eyebrow, Clara didn’t acknowledge him, but he noticed that her hands relaxed slightly on the steering wheel. Color returned to her cheeks. She even suggested he put on the radio, as long as he kept the volume in the vicinity of a whisper. A win if he ever saw one.