Mark gripped the armrest on the Miata’s door. Tori hadn’t spoken since lunch in Lake City, more than two hours ago, and the silence made his nerves crawl. As if that wasn’t enough, she was the worst driver he’d ever seen. Every trucker between here and Tallahassee had to be cussing her for all he was worth.“Tori,” he said, keeping his voice casual, “who taught you to drive?”The wind, rushing in her open window, tousled her hair. “Tick. Why?”“Just wondering.” Well, that explained it. He checked his watch. “We should be there soon.”She nodded. “I love the way the landscape changes the closer you get to the ocean.”An ancient and abandoned roadside diner flashed by. Cookie turned his gaze the other way. The place had once served the best pancakes in the area. Jenny had been crazy about them smothered with blueberry syrup. That last morning, she’d eaten two helpings of them.He hadn’t wanted a pancake since.“Oh, my gosh!” Tori’s excited squeal jolted him seconds before she swerved into the left-hand turn lane.Heart pounding, he threw out a hand and braced against the dash.
