“No.” He curls his lips between his teeth to stop his smile.
“Hmm . . . slave?”
His face turns to stone, and I swear it’s like an invisible wall drops between us. “No, ma’am.”
“Well good, because slavery is illegal. I’d have to report it; people would get arrested. Our small town doesn’t need the scandal.” I grin, but he doesn’t respond as I fight desperately to get through the tension that separates us. “Okay, I just asked a bunch so you get some freebies. Go ’head.”
“Why are you doing this?” he mumbles, and it takes me a second to figure out whether that was his question or not.
I grimace. “Really? That’s all you got?”
He doesn’t respond.
I tuck my hands under my knees to keep from fidgeting. “My dad says I’ve never done well with uncomfortable silence, but my mom would say I never did well with any kind of silence. I guess I just figure rather than sit here we may as well get to know each other. It’s no big deal. Friends do it all the time.”
“I don’t have friends.”
I laugh, but the sound is sadder than I intend. “I don’t either.” Another commonality between us.
The stillness again builds and the air in the cab is alive with an almost tangible energy.
“Your mom, she’s . . .” His lips press together and the muscles in his forearms jumps.
“She died when I was sixteen. Lou Gehrig’s disease.”
He nods but doesn’t give me the usual sympathy speech about being sorry and knowing my mom is in a better place, and for that I’m grateful.
“How about yours?”
His breath hitches. “How—”
“I overheard you at the diner.”
His eyelids flutter, then abruptly squeeze shut in a grimace.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
With his eyes back on the road, his jaw tenses and he shakes his head as if clearing away a memory.
“One-way street. I get it.” I opened up about myself, but he shuts down when my questions get personal.
“Ma’am?”
“Shy. Ann. Shyann. It’s not that hard.”
“I know . . .”
I turn fully to him. “Then why do you keep calling me ma’am?” And why won’t you talk to me?
Heat builds in my chest, as does frustration at his insistence to keep me at arm’s length. He ignores me at work, goes out of his way to avoid me. It takes a whole hell of a lot of self-control to give someone the cold shoulder and I can’t for the life of me figure out why he’s giving me his.
“If I did something to upset you—”
“You didn’t, I’m . . . I’m not good with”—he waves his hand back and forth between us—“this.”
“This?”
“Small talk. Or any kind of talk. I’m not good with people.”
That’s more than he’s given me so far. Maybe the whole getting-to-know-you thing was too much.
“Wanna play Would You Rather?”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll state two things, and all you have to do is pick which one you’d rather do. Easy enough?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay, so, Lucas, would you rather hike naked through the snow or naked through the desert?”
He turns to me, his eyebrows dropped low, but there’s humor in his expression. “Why am I naked?”
“No reason, just pick one.”
His face twists adorably in disgust. “Gosh, um . . . guess I’d rather be naked in the desert.”
“Me too. Okay, your turn.”
“Oh, um . . .” His left leg jumps up and down in a nervous rhythm. “Would you rather, uh . . . get attacked by a shark or . . .” He’s back to chewing his bottom lip and I try not to stare.
“A shark or . . .?”
“Or a . . . bear?”
“Ooooh, that’s a good one. Hmm . . .” I tap my chin, thinking. “Shark would mean water and the added fear of drowning, which, if you think about it might be a good thing.”
He peeks over at me.
“Quick death.”
“Ah.” He nods.
“Bear you’d probably be awake for the entire attack. I mean, unless he snapped your neck right away. In that case I’d say bear, but what if he didn’t and you were forced to watch while he ate your insides.” I shiver. “Yeah, I’m gonna go with shark. What about you?”
“I was gonna say bear, but . . . you talked me out of it.”
For the first time since we met, he really smiles. Big, wide, and so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s childlike, the kind of happiness rarely seen in adults who’ve been so jaded by life that they no longer have the capability to experience pure joy. It’s breathtaking. I sit still, taking a mental snapshot, totally captivated.
LUCAS