Inside the car, Callie shifted uncomfortably as she reached for her seatbelt. Before she could buckle it, Dave leaned over, his fingers brushing against the belt as he pulled it across her.
She froze.
The scent of crisp cologne and faint traces of coffee filled the small space between them. It was the first time he'd been this close, and for a brief moment, she found herself studying his features—sharp jawline, perfectly arched brows, and those unreadable dark eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He didn't even seem to notice her reaction as he clicked the buckle into place, his expression as impassive as ever. "Try not to pass out before we get there," he muttered before pulling away and starting the car.
Callie blinked, breaking free from whatever spell she had momentarily fallen under. "I'm not drunk."
He didn't respond. Instead, he focused on the road, his grip firm on the steering wheel.
The ride was quiet. Awkward, even.
Callie fidgeted with the hem of her dress, stealing occasional glances at him. He drove with precision, every movement controlled. No unnecessary words, no idle conversation.
Why did this man always make her feel so uneasy?
"You keep staring," Dave said without looking at her.
She quickly turned away, heat creeping up her neck. "I'm not."
His lips twitched slightly, but he didn't press further.
The silence stretched on until Callie finally sighed and rested her head against the window, watching the city lights blur past.
She wasn't sure if this was the longest ride of her life or if she wanted it to last just a little longer.