The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 25

My hand felt weird. Weird good? Bad? Good? Bad? No, good. Scary, good. I'm not used to scary good.

My brain ping-ponged back and forth on the idea that something weird could also be good. Weird didn't have to be bad. 

I kept thinking about how small my hand looked, fingers weaved together with Tate's, our hands resting on the small divider in between our seats as Tate drove towards Dark Race Speedway. I felt safe, my hand woven together in warmth and comfort. 

I tried not to think about how it felt... right. If I thought about it for too long, I might jump out of the car and run screaming. I clearly wasn't good with things that went well. Life had taught me that they always ended badly. And not thinking about it was a better way to go. Not thinking about it meant I wouldn't overthink it and ruin it with my instincts to destroy every relationship I cared about. Not thinking about it meant that I wouldn't have to try and push Tate away. 

"You want me to let your hand go?" Tate asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Hmm?" I blinked, pulling my gaze from my hand and looking up at Tate.

He shot me an amused grin before looking back at the road, offering my hand a tender squeeze. "You've been staring at our hands for a full minute without talking. And I'm pretty sure you stopped breathing for a few seconds there. You okay?"

"Oh," I breathed, out slowly, surprised that he was right. "Yeah."

"Yeah, as in you want me to let your hand go, or yeah as in you are okay?"

"I'm not used to holding hands," I admitted. "...It's nice."

He lifted our hands and gave my knuckles a quick kiss. "Good. Because I need my hand back for just a minute and I want you to remember that holding my hand doesn't mean you need to hyperventilate."

I rolled my eyes letting his hand go, ignoring the way my stomach suddenly felt like an acrobat. "I'll do my best not to die."

He laughed, voice rich and bright, filling the car with another wave of warmth. It made me want to hear that laugh over and over. If I could bottle it, I could sell that laugh to everyone that needs joy and make so many people smile. 

Tate pulled the car up against a curb, stopping nowhere close to the race track. "You down to make a quick surprise stop before our destination?" he asked, suddenly wearing a secret smile.

I squinted through the window, trying to see past the bright sunshine. "That depends... where are we?"

"That would ruin the surprise." Tate stepped out of the car and opened my passenger door. "Come on Winters."

After a beat, I climbed out and got a better view of where we were. "Um... are we going shopping?" I asked, staring up at the small clothing store standing to our right.

Tate grinned mischievously, looking both proud and excited. "You'll see."

...

We stood inside of a store called Fashion It Your Way, a warm and cozy clothing store I had visited a few times over the years. It was bright and filled with wood tones, making it feel almost like a bohemian log cabin. 

"You must be Tate," a plump woman in her forties said loudly, walking out from behind the cash counter located at the back of the small store. She wore her hair up in bobby pins, purple curly hair wildly collected at the top of her head. A long cardigan trailed out behind her like a cape as she walked.

She gave Tate's hand a squeeze, eyes bright behind her moon-shaped clear blue-rimmed glasses. "I'm so excited that you set this up."

"Thank you for being so accommodating," Tate replied, all warmth and smiles. It was nearly impossible to not smile when he talked to you.