"Where exactly are we headed?" Nolan asked, his tone deliberately casual though his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.
Miranda barely spared him a glance. "The local diner downtown."
Heavy silence enveloped the car as Nolan followed Noelle's vehicle. The town slipped by—storefronts and streets that should have felt familiar to Miranda, but she was too distracted to notice any of it.
Her fingers drummed an anxious rhythm against her thigh while Nolan drove with apparent ease, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his leg. His maddening composure only intensified her inner turmoil.
Because he was the source of the electricity still humming through her veins.
She wanted to be angry with him. She should be angry with him. Yet she couldn't quite manage it.
She despised how, even after everything, he could make her feel simultaneously protected, desired, and utterly unraveled.
Nolan broke the silence first. "You're awfully quiet over there."
