Page 40 of Drilled

But instead I was met with a surprisingly pleasant mix of cedar and damp canvas and the tiniest hint of cologne. There was something oddly comforting and familiar about that smell.

The next thing I noticed was that Bear didn’t look at me immediately. His eyes were fixed ahead as he prepared to pull out into traffic, one hand resting casually on top of the wheel. His heavy work jacket was unzipped, revealing the dark thermal shirt underneath, and his thick forearms were solid against the console.

I shivered and it had very little to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, peeling off my blazer.

He nodded, still not looking at me. Things had been a bit awkward between everyone in the house since his fight with Dax. For my part, I didn’t know how to conduct myself other than keeping my contact with both of them to a minimum until I had it figured out.

And now here I was, stuck in a car with the Boss himself. The Boss who, frustrating as it was to admit in my current predicament, looked so good wet. I stirred uncomfortably. Nancy’s words were still ricocheting in my mind like a pinball, bouncing straight off all the common sense options.

But common sense wasn’t going to bring me any relief, now was it?

“Not that I’m not grateful that you saved me from potentially being flushed down Chicago’s sewage system, but why did you come all the way out?” I asked.

Bear shrugged. “We need the check.”

It took me a while to figure out that he was actually joking. Bear was usually the more stoic type, and especially after the fight, the last thing I’d expected was for him to be cracking a joke. But the fact he did anyway instantly lifted my mood. He was thawing and maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be that out of place for me to try my luck.

It was just flirting, right?

We had our moment in the kitchen, and I hadn’t forgotten the conversation I overheard between the guys either. I knew that he was, at the very least, attracted to me. But then what?

Shit, I hadn’t flirted with anyone in literal years, and Dax didn’t exactly need any seducing for me to get into his pants. But this wall was going to take some climbing and for a harrowing second, I doubted that I even had it in me to scale it.

I tried to remain calm and nonchalant, sinking back against the seat. “Well, I appreciate that I’m good for something, I guess. Though I'd hope my money isn’t the only thing you'd actually miss around the site.”

Bear pretended to think about it for a minute. “Your lunches. Definite loss.”

“Oh, how sweet of you. I’m glad to know the legacy I leave behind will be a couple of sandwiches,” I said.

He chuckled.

I relaxed a bit, easing into the banter. This was good. I could work with this. It was like riding a bike, right? Muscle memory. I shifted in my seat, turning my shoulders toward him and letting my gaze linger on his profile. Time to lean into it.

"You know," I murmured, trying to drop my voice into a low, sultry register like I’d seen women do in movies. "If you play your cards right, Wade, I might just give you an exclusive, long-term contract on those sandwiches. Unlimited access. Free of charge."

Bear’s chuckle died instantly. He didn't look at me, but his jaw clenched as he negotiated a tight turn. "An exclusive contract."

"Yeah," I said, a little bolder now, though my heart was starting to thump uncomfortably against my ribs. "Fully bonded and insured. Heavy on the... meat."

The words left my mouth and hung in the warm, enclosed air of the truck.

Heavy on the meat.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Did I actually just say that out loud to a grown man?

Bear didn't laugh. He didn't smirk. He slowly came to a stop at a red light on Elston, shifted the truck into park, and finally turned his head to look at me. His expression was a mixture of deep, structural confusion and mild concern.

"Lane," he said, his voice slow and heavy. "Did you hit your head on the train door?”

I felt my face heat up and yanked my gaze forward, shamed to the tenth generation that those consecutive words had ever left my mouth.

“No, I just think I’m coming down with something. I haven’t been feeling good all day, it’s probably some type of fever.”

“Ah, that explains it. I don’t have much on me, but there are cough drops in the glove box,” he said.

“I am absolutely fine, thank you. I probably just need to sleep it off,” I said, leaning up against the window and wishing that there was some giant hole on the side of the road I could leap and disappear into forever.