We finally creep past the semi, and the visibility improves, but only slightly. There’s still nothing but a blur on the windshield, and though I’ve never really considered myself the anxious sort, I finally acknowledge what’s been looming for the past hour.

“I’m kind of freaking out here,” I tell Reece. “Can we pull over? Wait the rain out a bit?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but either he hears the nervousness in my voice or he too wants a break from the doomsday weather, because he slowly makes his way over to the right lane, and then onto the nearest off-ramp.

I’m thinking maybe we kill time at McDonald’s or Taco Bell, but Reece surprises me by pulling into the parking lot of a non-chain, a little roadside diner that looks like it used to be adorable and is now simply tired.

I look toward the backseat and purse my lips as I realize I have absolutely no clue which box my umbrella might be in. Or if it even made the trip. Some of my stuff my parents will be shipping later.

Reece reaches behind my seat, pulling his jacket out. “Put this over your head.”

I take it as he shoves it at my chest. “But it’s leather.”

“You’re shitting me. It is?”

I roll my eyes at the sarcasm. “You love this thing. I’m not going to use it as an umbrella.”

Reece shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Without another word, he shoves open his door and steps into the pounding rain wearing only a T-shirt and jeans.

The door slams on my protest, and I scramble after him, hesitating only briefly before holding his jacket over my head and dashing across the parking lot after him.

Holy frick, I’ve never in my life seen rain like this. Thunder cracks loud and angry just as I catch up to Reece.

He opens the door for me, and I dash inside before pulling his coat from over my head. I start to hand it to him, then burst out laughing when I see him.

He’s drenched. Water’s running down his face, his shirt has gone from perfectly dry to all the way wet in the fifteen seconds it took him to get from the car to the diner.

Before I can consider my actions, I run a hand over his short hair, laughing more as water sprays everywhere.

“You’re soaked,” I say, my hand already going to pluck at the shirt at his shoulder, wanting to see if it’s as wet as it looks.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, yanking my hand away before I can touch him. My laughter dies as I meet his eyes: they’re blue and blazing. “I can play nice for the next week until we get to California, but not when you touch me.”

I tug my hand back. “Really. Then what was that yesterday when you were all over me? Or the night before that on the dance floor?”

His eyes cool. “Mistakes.”

I open my mouth to fire back that they didn’t feel like mistakes, but luckily I’m saved from uttering that stupid statement by the approach of a tired but friendly-looking waitress. “This is a seat-yourself joint, kids. Wherever you like.”

Reece nods in thanks and claims a nearby booth without looking at me.

I slide onto the cracked vinyl bench across from him, stubbornly ignoring the way his shirt clings to his pecs. He wants no touching. Fine. I’ll raise him one. No looking either. I’m not even going to be aware of him.

Only, that doesn’t seem to be going both ways, because I suddenly realize he’s very aware of me and my wet shirt. The jacket covered my head, but with the rain coming down hard every which way, my tank top got a bit…clingy. Unable to resist, I arch my back oh so slightly under the guise of stretching after a long day in the car.

I think I hear him groan softly before he picks up the menu the waitress has set down.

“Can I get you kids something to drink?”

I smile, because she looks to be about a hundred, and we probably do seem like kids to her.

“Diet Coke, please.”

“Regular Coke for me,” Reece says, flashing her a friendly smile. “I like the real stuff.”

I blink a little. When was the last time I saw him smile like that? Wide and unabashed, maybe a little flirtatious?

I mean, he flirts with me, but there’s always an edge, as though we’re engaged in a battle of wills at the same time.

The waitress slaps his arm. “Save it for the pretty girl. I’m old enough to know better about boys that look like you.”

It’s my turn to smile up at her. “Well, Darla,” I say, after a quick glance at her name tag. “Wish I’d met you a few years ago, so I’d have known that this one came with a warning label.”

“Don’t mind her,” Reece says in a bored tone, turning his attention back to the menu. “Just make sure to double her order. Half for her, half for the baggage she insists on carrying around.”

Darla moves away with a clicking of her tongue, and I kick Reece under the table. “Really?”

He lowers the menu only slightly to meet my eyes. “Any chance we can have this meal in silence?”

In response I reach out, shove the menu onto the table so I can see his face, ignoring his sigh.

“Yes, Lucy?” he asks with exaggerated patience.

I fold my hands. “Thank you for driving today.”

Reece’s head tilts back, looking at the peeling ceiling in exasperation. “This, after days of you bitching about me not letting you drive?”

I look out the window at the angry rain. “I didn’t want to drive in that.”

His gaze follows mine. “It is crazy. Since your mom’s taking up meteorology while we’re on this road trip, did she tell you when it was supposed to let up?”