Night Driving. Lori Wilde

time. You don’t have to be in Key West until Saturday.”

      “It’s already Wednesday and I don’t like cutting things close.”

      “C’mon.” She beckoned with a wriggly finger. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

      “No. Let’s get on the road. We can hit a drive-through on the way out of town.”

      But she was already swishing away from him, headed across the parking lot toward the truck-stop diner, her oversized purse slung over her shoulder.

      He swore under his breath, picked up his knapsack and limped after her as fast as he could. “Tara,” he hollered. “We don’t have time for this.”

      Stepping lightly, she turned and, still walking toward the diner, grinned at him. “You’ll feel better after a hearty breakfast.”

      “I’ll feel better when we’re on the road.”

      “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

      “Watch where you’re walking.”

      “I’m—” Her retort was cut off by an eighteen-wheeler bread truck as it whizzed away from massive gas pumps at the back of the diner. The truck came barreling straight for Tara.

      Adrenaline shot through Boone. His natural instinct was to run toward her, throw himself between her and the truck, but given the shape his knee was in, he simply could not move that fast. “Stop!” he commanded and then took half a dozen deities’ names in vain.

      Tara froze, her face gone deathly pale.

      The driver of the eighteen-wheeler blasted his horn, coming within inches of Tara as he rocketed from the parking lot.

      Boone’s stomach had vaulted into his throat.

      She jumped then, leaping into a hedge of bushes surrounding the diner. Boone moved as fast as he could, heart hammering. He’d intended to give her a good long lecture, but when he reached her, she was trembling all over.

      “Are you all right?” he murmured.

      She nodded mutely. Her legs wobbled beneath her.

      He reached out and took her into his arms.

      “You were right,” she said. “We should have gotten on the road. If we’d been on the road ahead of that stupid truck, I wouldn’t have been acting like a dummy.”

      “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he reassured her, but she was a leaf in his arms, shaking uncontrollably.

      “That was almost the end of me. Why don’t I ever think?”

      “You were just caught up in the moment, enjoying the morning. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

      “It could have been my last breath.” She leaned heavily against him.

      “Maybe you shouldn’t have been walking backward,” he conceded. “But that guy shouldn’t have come cannonballing around the building knowing that people come walking through the parking lot from the motel to the diner.”

      “You’re letting me off the hook?” She seemed surprised.

      “I think you’re shaken up enough without me making any more comments. Let’s get some breakfast,” he murmured in her ear, surprised by the tender feeling of relief that had evaporated all his anger. She was okay. That’s all that mattered.

      “No, we should get on the road.”

      “You’re in no shape to drive. You need to sit down a bit. Get some color back into those cheeks.”

      “Okay,” she agreed in a weak voice.

      Boone let his hand drop to her waist, pressed his palm to the small of her back and escorted her toward the door. He had the strangest urge to grin.

      They found a booth near the front door. Tara plunked down. It took Boone a minute to get seated across from her. He dropped his knapsack to the floor and stretched his right leg out across it.

      Tara exhaled audibly.

      He reached across the table to touch her hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

      Her smile was wan. She pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “I’m getting there.”

      The waitress came over. Boone ordered oatmeal and toast. Tara ordered the Slam Bang special. He eyed her speculatively. Where did she plan on putting all that food?

      “What?” she asked as she handed the waitress her menu.

      “I didn’t say anything.”

      “I have a high metabolism. I can eat like a horse and not gain weight.”

      “Good for you.”

      She took a sip of the orange juice the server brought her but didn’t meet his gaze. The steam from Boone’s coffee curled up between them. She fiddled with the wrapper from her straw, rolling the paper around her index finger, then unfurling it again.

      “So,” she said. “How do you plan to get back home after you ruin your sister’s wedding?”

      Boone blinked at her. For all his planning out the route and time scheduled, it had never once crossed his mind how he was going to get back to Montana. He’d been so single-minded about reaching Key West in time to stop Jackie from making a big mistake that he’d forgotten the return trip home.

      “I’ll figure something out,” he said.

      “Wow, something the great planner hasn’t thought out? I’m shocked.”

      “Yeah, well, I was preoccupied.”

      “Sticking your nose in your sister’s business.”

      “It’s not like that.”

      “No?” She planted her elbows on the table, rested her chin into her upturned palms. “What’s it like?”

      “This is the first time Jackie has ever been in love. She doesn’t understand that she can’t trust those feelings.”

      “Why not?”

      “They’re not based on anything solid.” He studied her mouth. “It’s just lust. Not the real thing. You should know that.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “Guys fall all over you.”

      “So?” She narrowed her eyes. “You think I’ve been in love gobs of times?”

      “Haven’t you?”

      “Just because I’m lively and like people doesn’t mean I go falling in love willy-nilly.”

      That was precisely what he’d thought of her. Her house was always filled with people. She dated a lot. It was a natural assumption.

      “How many times have you been in love?” he asked, not knowing why he was pursuing this topic. It was none of his damned business.

      She studied him for a long moment, her winsome blue eyes drilling into his until he started feeling downright antsy. “How many times have you been in love?”

      Boone drummed his fingers on the Formica tabletop. “I asked you first.”

      She dropped her hands into her lap, notched up her chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

      “Not even with Chet?”

      “Oh, heck no. He was good in bed and lots of fun and I was ready for an adventure. I was going through a cowboy phase, which was why I moved up here with him.”

      Jealousy shot through Boone, crisp and concise. The last thing he wanted to think about was Tara in bed with that cowboy. He wondered if she’d ever gone through a soldier phase, and then mentally kicked himself for wondering it.

      “So