Driving Her Crazy (3 page)

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhear your phone call earlier…”

Cherice raised an eyebrow.

He had the grace to blush a little, though Cherice was positive the slight pink in his cheeks couldn’t touch the bright red in hers. He certainly wasn’t catching her at her best.

“Well, I’ve got to get to New York, too. Since I’ve got the last rental, I just thought, seeing as how we are going the same way…well, if you’d like a ride, I’d be happy to drive you.”

Relief flooded through her, followed almost immediately by suspicion. Why would a complete stranger want to be alone in a car with her for twelve hours?

“I’m totally trustworthy, I promise. It’s just a long way to drive on my own. Plus, I don’t see any point in leaving you stranded here when we’re going the same direction.”

Her face must still have been radiating
Serial Killer Alert
because he added, “Jennifer there has seen us together and has all my info so she could sic the cops on me if she needed to.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that
does
make me feel a little better,” Cherice said, her mouth pulling into a half smile.

He laughed, his handsome features radiating
Good Guy
. He seemed normal enough. He had a wife and child, so he was probably safe. And it was only twelve hours, less than a day. It suddenly seemed a lot shorter since she wouldn’t have to drive. If she tried to drive herself she’d probably end up lost or dead, anyway. Not that she had a choice. Her only other option was probably the bus, if one was even running. She grimaced at the thought. She’d rather skip the trip entirely and face her mother, and
that
was saying something.

“All right,” she said, lifting her chin. “You’ve got yourself a car mate.”

Chapter Four

Judging by the look on her face, the woman would rather crawl to New York City on her knees than ride in a car with him, so Oz was kind of surprised she agreed. He hadn’t missed the quick perusal she’d done of him while she’d been making up her mind. Oh, part of her, at least, had liked what she’d seen. There’d been a little spark in her tawny eyes, a little hitch in her breath. He knew very well what happened when a woman liked what she saw, and they generally did when they saw him. He wasn’t conceited, but he knew he looked good. Long hours of hard work tended to whip a guy’s muscles into shape.

He’d seen those looks from women before. But behind the flash of heat in their eyes, there was the disdain. The slight nose wrinkle at the grease stains he’d never be able to get totally out from under his nails. The quick calculation of his net worth going by the worn jeans and cheap T-shirt he wore. The pampered princess in front of him was no different. He was good enough to perform whatever service she required, but the way she grimaced and jutted her chin said that was all he’d ever be good for.

It stung. It always did. But he wasn’t one to let his emotions off the leash so he slapped a grin on his face and stuck his hand out.

“I’m Oz, by the way.”

“Oz?” She took his hand, her fingers curling into the warmth of his. She left her hand in his longer than was strictly polite, then withdrew them quickly like she realized what she’d done. “Were your parents’ fans of
The Wizard of Oz
or something?”

His laugh boomed out. “Naw. My real name is Nathaniel Oserkowski. Kind of a mouthful. Oz suits me better.”

She blinked at him and opened her mouth like she was going to respond to that. Then she gave her head a little shake. “I’m Cherice Buchanan Debusshere. Nice to meet you.”

Oz blinked at her. “Wow. That’s quite a name you got there.”

She straightened her shoulders, her face flushing slightly. “They’re family names.”

He bit his tongue to keep from cracking a joke. She wasn’t like the flirty, good-natured women he generally chatted up. Teasing her about her name was probably the wrong way to go about getting to know someone he was about to be confined in a tiny space with for the next twelve hours. But damn, with a name like that, she was probably a stuck-up piece of work.

“Well, Cher…”

“Cherice. Not Cher.”

Yep. Totally stuck-up. “Okay then. Cherice. Let’s go find our car.”

Cherice Buchanan Debusshere. What the hell kind of name was that? The woman was begging for a good tumble. She needed something to loosen her up. Her designer outfit and sky-high heels would look great in a board room but would probably have been miserable on a plane, and wouldn’t be much better in a car. Her hair was slicked back into a sophisticated ponytail. He couldn’t help but wonder what those chestnut strands would look like flowing over her shoulders, damp from a nice hot shower.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image from his mind. Ms. Debusshere didn’t seem the type to put one manicured pinkie out of place, let alone go slumming with a guy like him. He should have kept on walking when he’d overheard her phone call. But she had seemed genuinely terrified of having to drive. And they were going to the same place. Besides, twelve hours was a mighty long time to keep himself company. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.

Another glance at Cherice almost changed his mind on that one. She didn’t seem like the chatty type. At least not with someone like him. If things had worked out differently in his life, he might have been sitting in one of those fancy offices where women like Cherice worked. He wouldn’t be covered in oil from his job as a mechanic at Billy’s garage, or have dark circles under his eyes from his second job delivering newspapers in the middle of the night. Or his weekend janitor job.

But he did what he had to do. His sister and nephew needed him and he’d do what it took to provide for them. And if he had to deal with women like Cherice looking down their noses at him, well, it was a small price to pay to see the smile on his nephew’s face when he got home from work every day. To see the boy thriving, and healthy, and happy.

Now, however, the perfect opportunity had opened up. He had a shot at his dream job. A long shot, sure. But a shot, nonetheless. If he made it to the interview.

Oz put on his brightest smile and made chit-chat on their way out to the car rental parking lot but Cherice was remarkably hard to draw out. Until she saw their car.

“What is that?”

“A Ford Focus.”

“Do they have a more recent model? The newer cars tend to have better safety features, don’t they? It’s raining and it’s supposed to rain all day. That means the roads will be slippery.”

“I’m sure this one is safe. As long as we don’t go off-roading or anything like that, it should be fine.”

She frowned, chewing on her lip. “It has GPS, right?”

“Yep. And we’ve got enough insurance on it we could drive it off a cliff and get reimbursed. Is it okay?” he asked. It wasn’t like she had a choice, but he figured it didn’t hurt to ask. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d decide she didn’t want a ride after all.

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “Does it have all-weather tires?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh good. Do you mind if I ask a few more questions?” Twenty minutes later, Oz stood watching while Cherice worried about every safety hazard she could think of and asking the poor car rental guy to reassure her. He’d known she was nervous, but she was crossing the line into paranoia. As long as the car wasn’t going to blow up when he turned it on, he was cool with it. His phone buzzed and he took it out, smiling at the cute picture of his nephew that his sister texted him.

R U in the air yet?

He grimaced.
Flight canceled. Gonna drive.

Oh no! U r driving the whole way? B careful!

No worries. Sharing the car. I won’t fall asleep with her sitting next to me.

Her? Do tell ;-)

Oz snorted.
Lol. Don’t even. There will never be anything to “tell” with her.

You say that now…

He glanced up to watch Cher buzzing around the car, her face creased with concern while the attendant continued to assure her everything was fine.
No…believe me. She’s a serious piece of work. And not in the good way.

If you say so…

I say so :-)

Drive safe. And check in at some point so I know you aren’t dead in a ditch somewhere.

LOL will do. Love ya! Give Tyler a hug for me.

Will do <3

“I think I’ve alleviated most of her concerns, sir.”

“Sorry,” Oz muttered, holding out his hand for the keys.

The attendant just walked away, shaking his head.

“All right, then,” Oz said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Cherice slipped into the passenger seat. Oz started the car and got his mirrors and seat adjusted while she buckled up and arranged herself. He turned on the radio and bobbed his head to the song pouring from the speakers. Ah, “Lowrider.” Excellent driving tune.

He pulled out of the lot and wound through the lanes of the airport leading to the freeway, singing the lyrics and lightly tapping his hands on the steering wheel along to the beat. His shoulders relaxed, the tension starting to drain out of him.

Oz merged into traffic and turned the volume down in case she wanted to pass the time by chatting. Apparently, she didn’t. After five minutes of dead silence, he couldn’t take it anymore. Did she really plan on just sitting there for the whole trip, not saying a word?

“So, why are you going to New York?”

She glanced at him for a moment before turning back to look out her window. “My older sister’s wedding.”

“Oh, that’s great. Family gatherings are always a blast.”

“Depends on the family,” she murmured.

Before he could dig into that kettle of worms, she lobbed his question back at him. “Why are you going to New York?”

“Job interview.”

“In New York?”

The incredulity in her voice was downright offensive, no matter what kind of spin you put on it.

“Why? You don’t think a grease monkey like me would make it in New York?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

She sighed. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It just surprises me, that’s all. New York is a long way from North Carolina.”

“That’s true enough. So what are you doing out in the sticks if your family is in New York?”

She paused for a moment, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Hmmm
, princess wasn’t too keen on answering that question, huh? Interesting.

“I went to school at Duke. I was going to go to grad school but…that didn’t work out. So I just kind of…stayed.”

“Why didn’t grad school work out?”

She blew out a breath and turned to look at him, exasperation stamped clear on her face. “I was trying to get into a pre-med program.”

“Really?”

“What, you don’t think a girl like me can make it in med school?”

He didn’t think it wise, or nice anyway, to say that, no, he didn’t think she’d make it in a medical program. She sat there in her perfectly put together outfit, not a hair out of place, with her soft, manicured hands that were as smooth as the day she’d come into the world. So picturing her up to her elbows in body fluids at the beck and call of the infirm? Yeah, he didn’t think so. But kudos to her for getting his own words to bite him in the ass.

“Touché,” he said, laughing.

A little shiver ran through her and her hand clenched on her thigh. Well, well. The spittin’ kitten wasn’t as unaffected by him as she liked to pretend. This could be fun.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, echoing her words back to her. “You just…”

She faced him, her eyes narrowing. “I just what?”

He shrugged. “Don’t seem the medical type.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Very true. So, let’s get to know each other. We got a long trip ahead of us. Might as well make some conversation.”

“You’re awful chatty for a guy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am?”

She looked back out at the raindrops that had started hitting the windshield again. “Chatting up a perfect stranger isn’t how most guys I know would want to spend their mornings.”

“Well, most guys you know probably don’t find themselves alone in a tiny space with a perfect stranger with nothing else to do for the next twelve hours, either.”

Her lips twitched. “Touché,” she muttered.

Oz almost fist bumped the air in triumph. The princess had a funny bone, after all. Well, a little one, anyway. A knuckle, maybe.

“So.”

Her eyes narrowed again. “So, what?”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Ah, I don’t believe that.”

She sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I asked you first.”

“I thought only children used that argument.”

Oz shrugged. “I live with a child. He must have rubbed off on me. So spill it. Tell me about your family. Are you excited for your sister’s wedding? Or do you have family drama? What do you guys usually do for Christmas?”

“Look, Nathaniel—”

“I prefer Oz.”

“I prefer Nathaniel.”

“Seriously? It’s
my
name.”

“But
I’m
the one who has to say it.”

Fire flashed in those golden eyes of hers and parts of Oz that shouldn’t be interested perked up and said
hello
. No doubt about it, he definitely preferred the hellcat to the prim and proper routine. He must be out of his mind.

“What? You don’t like nicknames?”

The fire bled out of her eyes and she looked back out the window. “No. They are lo…too personal and informal.”

Hmm
. He’d be willing to bet those weren’t her words coming out of her mouth. As irritating as the woman was, even her prim and proper attitude was better than this somehow sad, resigned quietness. He wanted the kitty to show her claws again.

“So why didn’t grad school work out? You aren’t going for pre-med anymore?”

Cher straightened, every muscle visibly on edge, like a rubber band that someone was stretching to its breaking point. “No.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, the same loud, exasperated exhale that his sister made whenever he was being a pest. The similarity made him smile, which didn’t win him any points with Cher. Cherice. Whatever she wanted to be called. Her eyes narrowed. “My undergrad grades were decent but I totally bombed the MCAT
s
, okay? I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Touchy, touchy. “All right, then. So…what are you doing now?”

“What do
you
do? And don’t you dare say you asked me first. I shared. It’s your turn.”

“All right, all right. Fair’s fair. I’m a mechanic mostly. And on the weekends, I work as a janitor at the community college.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

That’s nice? It was painfully obvious she had no idea how to respond. He was probably the first mechanic/janitor she’d ever met.

“Your turn again. Why didn’t you go back home after you…once you were done with school?”

She was quiet enough he wasn’t sure she’d answer him. She kept her gaze on the rain trailing down her window, but she finally did. “Because crawling back home to listen to my perfect family repeatedly tell me what a failure I am didn’t seem like a fun thing to do.”

“I’m sure they would have been supportive. They love you, right?”

“Look, no offense, Nathaniel—”

“Oz.”

“Oh my god, Nathaniel, Oz, whatever. Ox is a more fitting a nickname if you insist on one.”

“Why, am I stubborn or something?” he said, chuckling.

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, or something.”

“Looked in a mirror lately?”

Cher’s smile grew wider and she ducked her head. “Look, I’d rather not talk about my family right now, if it’s all the same to you. Ox.”

“Nag.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Nag. You know. From the movie with Walter Matthau and Sophia Loren. She calls him Ox, he calls her Nag.”