She took a deep, cleansing breath. “Coming.” She crossed the parking lot and settled into the car beside Dylan. He started the engine and pointed at the radio.

“What do you want to listen to?”

Anything but Elvis and Buddy Holly. “You pick,” she said.

Dylan tuned into ’50s on 5 and Joy’s lip involuntarily curled. He laughed. “Something else then.” He landed on soft jazz. “This will help you sleep.”

“Love jazz. Thank you.” She eased her chair back slightly.

He affectionately squeezed her hand, then reversed out of the parking slot. She watched him drive. His solid musician hands with a dusting of dark hair moved over the controls. Dylan was not a ten and two driver. One of his hands always rested on the gearshift or was draped behind the passenger headrest if he wasn’t beating a tune on the dash or tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. Right now, his right hand rested on his thigh. She still felt the imprint of his calloused fingers from a moment ago and yearned to hold his hand while she drifted to sleep, like she’d done last night.

She yawned, waiting for him to merge onto the highway and reach cruising speed, then she took his hand in hers. He immediately looked down at their interlaced fingers, then over at her as if surprised she’d been so bold.

“This okay?” Her heart skittered. She’d never made the first move, not with Kevin or when she’d met Mark, and there hadn’t been anyone else in between. There also was a general understanding between them. He was just a friend, albeit temporary. Nothing more than a means to JFK.

She looked at their hands again, struck by the intimacy of her gesture. Small space. Two people. Man and woman. One a dedicated bachelor. The other waffling between fiancée and single woman, but very attracted to said dedicated bachelor. Suddenly awkward, she started to unlace her fingers.

He tightened his grip on her hand. Startled, her gaze snapped up to his. He slowly smiled. “It’s okay.”

She smiled back and took a deep breath, filled with relief. Her hammering heart slowed to a comfortable beat and her heavy-lidded eyes shuttered. She was asleep before they’d left Stroud’s limits.

Joy slept most of their drive, waking up rested and famished when Dylan announced he’d found a roadside motel with a pool. “And a slide!” Joy squealed with delight. The place looked like a scene straight out of a WISH YOU WERE HERE postcard. Judy would have been gaga over it.