“The house I have to measure is two miles outside of town,” he said softly. Lincoln had one hand braced on the hood of the truck, the other held his coffee. His body was angled toward her, as though he thought she could gather strength from him. Usually she could. Not this time.
“I can’t, Lincoln. I haven’t—I haven’t driven with someone with me since…since…” Nausea rolled through her and Sara swallowed back bile. Her skin was clammy, her heart beating too fast. Sara tossed the coffee cup in a nearby garbage can, the thought of drinking it making her feel worse.
“I know.” Lincoln nodded, straightening as he set his coffee on the hood of the truck. He moved away from the truck and closer to her. The sidewalk gave her a little height on him so that they were almost at eyelevel. Still Sara had to crane her neck back to clearly see his features. Lincoln’s face was closed, revealing nothing of what he was feeling. “It’s two miles, Sara. Not so far.”
“It’s too far, Lincoln! It’s too far. What if something happened? I can’t. No.” Sara shook her head, hair sticking to her mouth. She brushed it away, turning her face from Lincoln’s intense gaze. “What if you got hurt? No.”
Lincoln touched her chin with his free hand, the fingers cool and calloused; familiar, turning her face toward him. “I’ll make you a deal: you drive us to the edge of town and then I’ll take over. Okay?”
She exhaled loudly, muttering, “Why do you make me do these things?”
“I make you do them for you, Sara,” he said, his eyes serious.
“Why?”
Instead of answering, Lincoln pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. They jangled as they connected with her hand. Sara held them to her chest, watching as Lincoln bent his tall frame into the passenger side of the truck.
Sara’s stomach flipped as she slowly walked to the driver’s side. She paused by the door, touching a hand to her damp forehead. It’s just through town. Lincoln stared back, eyebrows lifted, waiting. She inhaled slowly, deeply, opening the door to the truck. The interior was still warm, though the truck was off. It smelled like Lincoln, his scent a security blanket as she got behind the wheel.
Her hand shook as she tried to put the key in the ignition and Sara almost dropped the keys. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the horrible swirling sensation in her stomach, and finally got the key in the ignition. Sara wouldn’t look at Lincoln; she couldn’t. She felt him, felt his eyes on her, felt his confidence in her, and her eyes stung because of it. To have such unwavering faith in her; it was humbling.
“Is your seatbelt on?” she asked in a low voice, clicking hers into place.
“Of course.”
She gave him a look.
“I don’t want to get a ticket,” he added.
The truck slowly, jerkily, backed out into traffic, Sara’s knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. She forced air in and out of her lungs, trying to focus on that instead of how hard her heart was pounding. It wasn’t such a big deal. Sara drove herself where she needed to go and was okay with it. She knew it was irrational to have such a fear; especially when it was only through Boscobel, but that didn’t stop the apprehension from turning her into a trembling mess of nerves. This was different; she wasn’t alone this time.
“Remember the day on the river when we went tubing a few summers back?”
Sara shifted the gear from reverse to forward, eyes darting over cars and trucks in the immediate vicinity. “Yes. What about it?” She stalled at the Stop sign, not wanting to go at the same time another vehicle intended to. A horn honked and she jumped, glancing in the rearview mirror at the large white truck behind her.
“I think it’s your turn to go,” Lincoln said dryly.
The truck crept forward. Lincoln laughed, which caused her face to burn, but Sara ignored him, concentrating on driving.
“Remember how Cole was determined to knock us off the tube?”
The sun was burning down on them. The inner tube bobbed up and down in the small waves made by other boats, splashing warm brown river water on her. Sara smelled seaweed and sand, the faint scent of fish in the air. She was on her stomach, one arm under Lincoln’s hard chest, the other pulled toward her; her and Lincoln’s arms crisscrossed over each other’s, both hands locked on the handles. Her lifejacket dug into her ribs, slightly raised over her shoulders from the way she was laying.
Water glistened down Lincoln’s face as he turned his head to grin at her, his gray eyes sparkling silver in the sunlight. “Ready?”
Sara glanced up at the white and green pontoon boat; saw Cole watching her, a certain gleam in his crystal blue eyes. His light brown hair was streaked with gold from the sun; his body tanned and toned from working outdoors on an almost daily basis. A slow smile curved his lips, turning Sara into a fiery ball of need. Her eyes stayed locked with his, promises communicated back and forth. He winked at her.
“You know he’s going to try to dump us, don’t you?”
“I told him not to.” Sara glanced at Lincoln; saw his eyes were on her.