“Clean,” I said, not even trying to hide how impressed I was.

“I like to keep things tidy,” he said, buckling his seat belt. “I used to live with my best friend, Harrison, who is a total neat freak. Broke any of my messy habits right out of me.”

“That’s good,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything more clever.

Oliver reached between us for the gear shift, and I stared his hand as he put it in drive. Was it weird that I found his hands attractive? As he put them both on the bottom of the steering wheel and I watched as they engulfed it, I realized that weird or not, I definitely found them attractive.

I tore my gaze away and stared out the window at the dark street. Why Oliver had chosen an activity that started before sunrise was beyond me, but I couldn’t deny that there was something a little thrilling about being out here with him before the town stirred.

“So, this is the car,” Oliver said, tapping the steering wheel. “I know you thought I was making it up, but here she is in all her glory.”

“Exactly the type of car I pictured you in.” It was one of those off-road SUVs that, while in great shape, was clearly at least a decade old.

Oliver laughed and snapped his gaze to mine before returning it to the road. “Hey, now. In your own words, you pictured me both houseless and unable to acquire a car.”

My cheeks burned at the reminder. “Sorry about that,” I mumbled.

Oliver seemed to sense my discomfort because he hit the power button on the center console. “You can control the music,” he said, turning his head both directions at the stop sign before making a left turn and exiting Main Street.

Instead of looking for an aux cord or a Bluetooth connection, I went for the FM button and hit search until I found the least fuzzy station.

“A radio girl?” Oliver asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m surprised. I would have thought you’d have some carefully curated playlist to go along with every occasion.”

Normally he’d be correct. But I was far too self-conscious to share any music with Oliver right now. The radio was safe. Neither of us picked it. I didn’t spend hours thinking of the perfect song only to risk Oliver not liking it or pressing “skip” without a second thought. No. That was far too risky.

“I like the radio,” I said, as the next song began—an old, cheesy country ballad I never would’ve chosen if given the option.

Oliver merged onto the highway and shifted lanes. There was almost no one else on the road.

“How far is this mystery place?” I asked, turning the heaters so that they weren’t blasting directly on me. My outfit was causing me to overheat slightly. When I’d asked Oliver what I should wear, his only response was, “Something that’s comfortable, warm, and that you can move in.” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, and it had me a little nervous for whatever awaited us.