She stared out the windshield, her fingers seemingly dead on her slender thighs. “Mm.”
Pity she didn’t want to talk. He had thirty minutes with this gorgeous girl. Thirty minutes to speak openly, to be himself in the company of a stranger. “I’m majoring in religion at Baylor.”
A sigh whispered past her lips. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why the Jesus career?” Her lips rolled as if constraining judgment.
“I promise you, the reason is completely and wholeheartedly…absurd.”
She glanced at him. Not just a flick of her scrutinizing eyes. He won a full-on head turn.
A tousle of chestnut curls clung to her face and spilled around her… Sweet Lord, he shouldn’t have been gawking, but her chest was very, very mature. He was certainly not immune to feminine attributes, but watching her mouth part, tipping up at the corners and stretching her scar, was hell on his focus. Confusion looked seductively X-rated on her.
A low-burning fire stirred in his groin, a sensation he’d never tried to sate with a girl. He could’ve blamed his abstinence on Christian principles and a demanding workload. Truth was, he derived pleasure from the exertion that hard work put on his mind and body. The girls hanging around his practices didn’t arouse him like the bruise of a tackle, the pains of farm labor, or the mental strain that accompanied religious stringency. He’d accepted his unconventional urges long ago and locked the darkest ones deep inside. If his parents knew the kind of thoughts he entertained, it would destroy them. His chest tightened.
He moved out of the passing lane and merged into an opening between two slower cars. He’d admitted to her the reason for his career choice was absurd. Might as well tell her why.
“My folks tried to get pregnant for years. When they reached their mid-forties and found God, they prayed, made promises, and nine-months later…” He gave her a raised eyebrow.
“You arrived.”
“Yep. Here to fulfill their promise. They’d made a deal with God. If He gave them a child, they vowed to raise their miracle to be a servant of His church in Baptist ministry.”
She laughed, a sweet sound for such a glaring expression. “Absurd.”
“Told you.” And telling her seemed to dislodge it just a little from his chest. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in God. He just wasn’t fanatical like some of his classmates. Like his parents.
“So young to allow all your choices be dictated by a promise to God.”
“My promise is to Mom and Dad.”
“Whatever. It’s a promise that controls you. Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“It challenges me, makes me a better person. I’m good with that.”
A lull settled over her, and her gaze lost focus as she stared at him. She raised her hand, tentative at first, and reached for his face, fingertips resting on his cheekbone. When she traced his jawline, it was a caress so alluring he had to put all his concentration in keeping his eyes open and his hands on the wheel.
“Your life has always been predetermined, huh?” Her words were as perplexing as her touch.
“Mom and Dad gave me life, an honest one. In return, I accept the path they want for me.” He leaned ever so slightly against her fingers and murmured, “It’s just a job. You never know, it might lead to something extraordinary.”
She yanked her hand back, and her attention snapped to the road.
The absence of her touch left a cold shock. He rubbed his jaw on his shoulder. “Did I say something—”
“Take the next exit.”
Unease burrowed in him. What the hell happened? He exited, replaying the conversation in his head. Perhaps leaning into her touch had been too forward.
“Five miles up, turn right into the Two Trails Crossing subdivision.”
He passed Temple’s main drag, the emptiness of the streets seeping into the truck. His body knew she was sitting right beside him. Hell, it pulsed to close those few inches. But she seemed so very far away, lost in her thoughts.
Then she began to hum. It started with a tremor, out of the blue and shocking to his ears. Was she singing to avoid conversation or to slice through the quiet?
The fluttering harmonic built into a haunting rhythm. The tune was unfamiliar, yet the notes shifted through him as if breathed from the most secret part of her soul.
“What is that?” he whispered. “What are you humming?”
The enchanting crescendo cut off, and he immediately regretted opening his mouth.
She cleared her throat. Then he heard it. The a cappella melody of a voice so piercing and peaceful it jolted a chill through him, sparking every cell in his body. The shiver faded too quickly but not for long. Her voice pitched, and an electric surge fired down his spine. He held his breath, spellbound.
In unerring key, she sang of wishes and stars and souls that couldn’t be saved. Her octave carried a tinkling quality, profound and lonely at the same time. It transported him to the farm, to the isolated pond on a rainy day. Her voice was the pattering of drizzle on the misty surface, infused with nourishment and despair and acceptance.
She closed with a hum and a delicate exhale.
“That was…” His tongue knotted, heavy in his mouth.
“’Lullaby’ by Sia.”
“I was going to say exquisite, bewitching.” Carnal. “Do you sing for a living?” He slowed at a stoplight and twisted to look at her.
“No.” Complex and unflinching, her eyes held his and the key to his secrets.
The light ticked green, and she broke the connection, pointing at the brick archway on the right.
Lopsided letters clung to a wooden sign in tired welcome. Two Trails Crossing. He turned in.
Massive elms darkened the rows of lower middle-class homes. Dated wrought-iron gussied up the doors and windows. A couple left and right turns led them to a cul-de-sac, where she nodded at the small single-story at the end. “That’s it. I’ll go in through the rear.”
He followed the skinny driveway alongside the house, around the back, and parked in front of the rear garage. The engine rattled, and he willed it to choke and die. He didn’t want to let her go in just yet, and why was that? As the most sought-after bachelor on the football team, he had more female attention than he knew what to do with.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want a girl. In fact, he was so aware of the way the female body moved with its ample curves and forbidden places that it was often unbearable to hang out with the opposite sex. He was a guy in his prime, for heaven’s sake. His restraint had its limits. So he fended off the handsy girls, accepted dates with the proper girls, and late at night, alone in his bed, he gripped his erection and gave into his primitive needs.
Something he would be doing when he got home, because Liv was the summation of all those girls, and more. What was it about her? She sang like a choir of angels and didn’t proposition him like the girls at his games, yet her eyes promised experience and indulgences that reached beyond the boundaries of his folks’ expectations for him.
She licked her lips, and they glistened in the dim glow of the porch light. “Come in.”
Go in with her? Hell, he couldn’t think past the pull to kiss her. He realized he was leaning toward her when she spoke again.
“My father isn’t here, and I don’t expect anything unmanageable with my sister, but just in case?”