“Why not?”
“I suppose every woman wants to feel a little feminine now and again, and strong men do that to us.” She pushed at her hair and fought a shiver.
“Jeez. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about you being cold. Watch your fingers,” he warned before slamming the truck door.
He jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped in, cranked the engine and punched up the heat. “Should have heated seats,” he murmured, tracing his fingers over the dashboard. “Aha!”
“Why should it have heated seats?”
Justin punched a pair of buttons and the seats started to warm. “Cass has busted her tail to carve out a place in the engineering world, and heated seats are her way of saying she’s made it.”
Grace grinned. “The more I learn about Cass, the more I find I could quickly grow fond of her.”
Justin answered her grin with one of his own. “Eric feels the same way.”
“How long have they been together?”
Justin leaned his seat back and rested his hands on his stomach. “Oh, about six months. They’re good for each other,” he added softly. “It’s nice to see him happy.”
Twisting in her seat, Grace tucked her legs up under her and leaned against the passenger door. Watching Justin like this, still and relaxed, was a surprising treat. She hadn’t realized how he was always in motion. Not until he stopped. Now, with the light glinting off his hair, his capable hands at rest over his abs and his eyes closed, he appeared relaxed in a way she hadn’t witnessed, even at the diner.
“If you don’t stop staring at me, I’m going to develop a complex.” His smooth voice slid over her, through her, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
“Yeah? Well, lucky for you, I’m qualified to diagnose all manner of complexes.” She leaned forward, propping her forearms on the console. “So tell me, Dr. Maxwell, what’s the root of your complex? Your past? Your present? What you want in your future? Hopes? Dreams? Disappointments?”
He rolled his head toward her but didn’t open his eyes. “You should be required to license your voice.”
“What? Why?”
“Dangerously seductive weapon, that.” Then he was quiet for so long she wondered if he’d actually dozed off. Then he answered. “Come here, Grace.”
She didn’t think—she simply crawled into his arms after he folded the console back and reached for her. The warmth of his skin bled through her shirt. A deep sigh escaped her. “You feel good.”
“Ditto.” He brushed his lips over the crown of her head. “Why were you upset earlier tonight?”
She fought not to stiffen in his arms and failed. Miserably. “As of tonight, I’m homeless.”
“Excuse me?” His voice was low and calm, yet hard enough to sound dangerous in the darkness.
Fine tremors started in her hands, spreading up her arms to coalesce in her shoulders, forming knotted masses of tension. “I had to leave my mom’s house.”
His voice dropped lower. “Why?”
Why? “Because I pulled the unforgivable and ruined her life, too.”