He slammed the trunk. “What kind of stuff?”
“I made brownies and cookies yesterday, and some empanadas at work last night.” She might not have gone for the sexy clothing, but digging up the family recipe Julio’s sister had given her the previous fall might have been equally shameless. “John lets me play in the kitchen when it’s slow.”
“Empanadas, huh?” Julio flashed her a knowing look as he climbed behind the wheel. “I can’t drive if I’m in a food coma. You’re angling to get your feet on these hot little pedals, aren’t you?”
Sera settled into the passenger seat. “Maybe. I’d look good driving a convertible.” But not as good as him. His plain white T-shirt hugged his body, flexing with the muscles of his arms and shoulders until she wondered if he was trying to show off.
“Jackson, unfortunately, would murder me if I let you drive it.”
That stung. “Hey, I’m a good driver. And he’s married to the New Orleans record holder for most speeding tickets in a year.”
“Yeah, and he won’t let Mackenzie drive it, either.” Julio patted the dash. “I had to find a suitable replacement and promise I’d buy it if anything happened to his baby.”
“Fine, fine.” Sera angled her body so she could admire him—subtly. Maybe. “So where are we going?”
“Don’t know. Do you want to head east or west?”
She might as well flip a coin. Either sounded perfect, as long as it got her away. “Whichever, so long as we can get lost on tiny back roads. I want the real road-trip experience here.”
“Stay clear of I-10. Got it.” He turned the key and revved the engine with a grin. “East, I think. We can drive all the way around Florida if you want.”
“Sounds perfect.” It would take a week or two, if they went slow. A week away from work, from overprotective alpha shifters and well-meaning friends, few of whom had taken this trip in stride.
Lily she might forgive. Lily’s tense sigh had undoubtedly been at the idea of trying to break the news to Sera’s father. Her boss, on the other hand, had granted her request for time off with a shake of his head and a muttered, Lord help you, girl.
That had pricked her pride. It would be nice if someone thought Julio was the one in need of help. Someone other than Kat, anyway, who had replied to Sera’s voicemail with a texted apology for being out of cellular contact and a stern command to be gentle with Julio.
Anna’s advice had been more direct. Fuckin’ A. Ride it like you stole it.
Everyone in New Orleans seemed convinced she was embarking on the world’s most epic booty-call road trip with a man she hadn’t even managed to kiss yet, and Sera couldn’t tell if it was a reflection of their respective reputations, or if her frustrated tension was just that damn obvious.
Julio seemed oblivious to it. “Want to pick the music?”
“Sure.” Leaning forward, she switched on the radio and twisted the old-fashioned FM dial, skimming past static on her way to 95.7. It took a little fiddling before Eric Clapton spilled out of the speakers, long enough for her to come to a decision.
Sitting back, she glanced at Julio. “You know everyone thinks we’re headed to the nearest motel to fuck ourselves stupid for the next week, right?”
He threw back his head with a laugh. “My fault, sweetheart. People think I can’t keep my pants on.”
“Who says I can?” Sera twisted on the seat and grinned at him. “That’s the awesome part about the twenty-first century. Girls get to love sex too.”
“I’m pretty sure they always have.”
“Well, obviously. When they got to have said sex, which wasn’t exactly freely, historically speaking.”
“A damn crying shame, if you ask me.”
She studied him for a moment, indulging herself for all the time she’d spent fighting not to look at him. The white shirt set off his coloring, all beautiful shades of bronze with chocolate eyes and jet-black hair.
It made her self-conscious, imagining her too-pale freckled body pressed against him. She had curvy hips and breasts big enough to turn any jackass wearing beer goggles into a drooling moron, but Julio was out of her league. Julio had his own league, one where rich shapeshifters who were damn near royalty married the barely legal daughters of important wolves. Pretty virgins with perfect manners and medieval dowries and closets full of fashionable clothing for hosting important dinner parties.
Julio Mendoza’s league wasn’t a fan of the twenty-first century, which made her want to shrink back into her seat and bite her tongue.
He made it to the interstate on-ramp before casting another glance her way. “Want to make any stops or head straight for Florida?”
“Can we hit a Walmart or something? I need a bathing suit before we get to the beach.”
“Plenty of time for that.”
The wind roared around them as the car picked up speed, drowning out the music. It tugged at her braids and the sleeves of her jersey, set her bandanna fluttering against her neck as she tilted her head back. “So now we just…be free?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Do you remember how?”
“I never knew how,” she admitted, mostly because the wind stole the words and she could pretend he wouldn’t hear them, even if she knew better. “But I’ll learn.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Do you remember how?”
“To be free?” Julio signaled and changed lanes. “Who says I ever knew, either?”
They were quite a pair. A rich wolf born of legacy and a poor coyote born of tragedy. She’d grown up without a mother, and the whole supernatural world knew he’d grown up without a father. At least her mother had been driven mad. Diego Mendoza had walked away from his psychic lover in a cloud of scandal, too cowardly to stay by the woman he supposedly loved and the children she’d given him.
Maybe Julio hadn’t had any more freedom than Sera had, for all his wealth and status. It made it easier, somehow. More like an adventure.
She and Julio could learn to be free together.
Julio opened a refrigerated case and relished the cloud of cold air that rushed out. Late afternoon, and it was still hot as hell outside.
He grabbed two drinks and walked up the aisle toward the register, pausing to add a few bags of snacks to the pile in his arms. When he reached the sleepy-looking clerk, he dropped everything on the counter and studied a carousel of cheap sunglasses. “Where’s the nearest town? Far?”
“Not too far. Go down Highway 4 a few more miles and you’ll hit Baker.”
Julio tossed a couple pairs of the sunglasses on the counter too. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” The clerk lifted a map off the counter. “Need one?”
“It’d probably be smarter than relying on my cell phone, huh?”
The girl stirred enough to smile. “Hey, phones do everything. My dad says maps don’t run out of batteries, though.”
“Your dad’s right.” He finished paying, took the bag and pushed out into the afternoon sunlight.
Sera had her head back against the seat, eyes closed and a small smile playing around her lips. She looked peaceful, at ease, as if everything was right with the world.
Julio slid behind the wheel. “I got you a Coke.”
“Thanks.” She twisted her head and cracked her eyes open, and that sweet little smile turned warm, like it was all for him. “Not for the Coke. Thanks for this. Even just getting out of New Orleans…I feel like I can breathe again.”
If he didn’t do anything else right, at least he could do this. “We’re going to keep you safe.
Whatever it takes.”
“Any of them would have kept me safe.” She unbuckled her seatbelt with a soft click and slid across the bench seat until she was tucked against his side with one arm wrapped around him in a half-hug. “You’re keeping me sane.”