“Mm. Yeah. Born and raised Chicago girl. I thought about moving to the beach a few years back but . . .” Brooke jolts upright, leaning forward in her seat and staring out the window. She tugs her hand free and braces it on the dash. “Uh, Mason. You’re going down a one-way street right now.”

“What?”

“One-way street. Shit! There’s cars coming! Pull over! Quick! Get off the road!”

My eyes sweep the small alley I’ve turned down.

“Fucking hell.”

I was so focused on not crushing Brooke’s hand with mine, on the feel of Brooke’s hand, on Brooke, I hadn’t noticed the well-lit street signs posted in warning, indicating that I have indeed turned down a one-way street.

Cars are parked along either side, leaving me with little room to pull off as head-lights loom closer.

I tap the brakes.

“Shit,” she whispers, squirming in her seat, her head whipping left, then right, then behind her. “Can you back up or something? Quickly, like floor it?”

I glance in the rear-view mirror, then ahead of me once more. “It’s all right. Look up there. I can pull off a bit in front of that motorbike until they get by.”

“That’s not going to give them enough room to pass you.”

“It might.”

She groans, covering her face with her hands.

I pull ahead and squeeze as close to the motorbike and the car parked in front of it as I can get without knocking into one.

Damn. This is going to be tight.

I shift into park. “Right. See? It’s all good, gorgeous. No worries.”

A blaring horn pulls my attention off Brooke.

I roll my window down as the car at the front of the line heading our direction inches past me at a snail’s pace. Their side mirror nearly strips my door of paint.

“This is a one-way street, you idiot!” the man yells up at me, shaking his fist as he slows to a stop.

I hold up a hand. “Yeah, sorry about that, mate. New in town. My apologies, yeah?”

His face visibly relaxes. The female passenger, I’m guessing his wife, leans over him to look up at me. She waves a quick hand. “Welcome to Chicago! We visited Sydney a few years ago on our honeymoon. Beautiful city. We had the best time.”

“Oh, my God. You have got to be kidding me,” Brooke mumbles next to me, her voice breaking with a soft giggle.

I give her a quick smile, then turn back to the couple. “Oh yeah? I’m glad to hear that. And again, I’m terribly sorry about this little blunder. I hope I haven’t ruined your night.”

The driver waves his hand dismissively. The car behind him lays on his horn.

“All right! Jesus! Are we all in a hurry?” he yells, craning his neck around to look at them. He gives me a sharp nod. “Enjoy Chicago. Watch out for one-way streets.”

“Right. Got it.”

They pull ahead and continue down the street.

The next car brushes past, this bloke settling on giving me the bird instead of a quick chat. I nod apologetically, waving a hand at his gesture.

Brooke couldn’t be more amused sitting next to me, her head back against the seat and her hands covering her face as she laughs into the silence of the car.

“Unbelievable. You could’ve done anything if it was just that one car! You could’ve blocked the street entirely and refused to move. Opened fire on them. Acted like a dick. I’m pretty sure that couple was close to offering to name their first born after you. That guy was pissed, and then . . .” she pauses, pointing a finger at me. “As soon as you opened that mouth of yours, dropping those adorable ‘yeahs’, it was like the second coming for those people. Mason the Messiah.”

I flash her a grin as I make it out of the one-way street. “I told you it would be all right. We had plenty of room.”

“Plenty of room. Yeah, okay,” she snickers. “It was that mouth. I’m telling you. I know what that mouth does to me. Now I’m seeing it work on the general population. You have a gift, Mason. You should probably go into politics.”

I don’t hear anything after . . .

“What does it do to you, Brooke?”

An ache pinches in the center of my chest.

She slowly turns her head, then drops it back against the seat, staring at me as the city lights move over her face.

I want to continue looking at her. In the daylight, preferably, where I can really see every emotion wash over her face. The heady look in her eyes I’m hoping is there. I don’t need my attention being pulled away for the sake of safety right now, but that’s exactly what happens before she can answer me.

“Wait. Just hold on. Don’t say anything yet.”

I pick up speed and take us back in the direction we came.

We drive through the city in silence until Brooke fiddles with the stereo, tuning the station to soft rock. Coldplay and One Republic become the background noise of our night. It mellows my suddenly anxious mind, my restless body, impatient against the seat.

It takes us twenty minutes to get out of the city.

I want to reach out and take her hand again. I want her to finish what she was going to tell me, but I keep my hands firmly planted on the wheel and my questions to myself until I pull us onto a dirt path that leads to an overlook I found when I went exploring my first day here.

It’s a secluded spot. I believe there’s a few trails that lead to some campsites, and a lake nearby. I made a mental note the other day to come back here. Discover more of it. I hadn’t realized at the time I’d be doing it so soon with Brooke.