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“But it gets me off the phone with her.” Her face was soft and amused as she pointed to a car that was parallel parked next to a street meter. “This is me.”
I looked at the shiny black car, then back at her.No fucking way.“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” She pulled out her keys and put them in the driver’s side door lock. “You gonna share your man opinion on this, too?”
I wasn’t really a car guy, aside from knowing which cars I liked, which cars hauled ass, and which cars were asinine. But her car—holy shit. “You drive a ’69 Camaro?”
She beamed, almost like she was proud of me for recognizing it. “I do. His name is Nick, he’s a Sagittarius, and he makes me feel things I’ve never felt for another man.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Is this your weekend car?”
She blinked. “It’s my only car.”
“What do you drive on snowy days?” I asked.
“Nick.”
No way.“How many miles does he have?”
“Eight thousand,” she said, pulling open the door.
“A hundred and eight thousand?” I asked.
“No.” She rubbed her lips together. “Eight thousand.”
“Are you telling me,” I said, confident I was missing something while suspecting I wasn’t, “that you have a ’69 Camaro with only eight thousand miles on it and you drive it every day? As your primary source of transportation?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do I hear judgment in your voice?”
“Jealousy, maybe, but not judgment.” I shook my head. “You have to know how much you can get for it if it stays in this shape, though, right?”
She tilted her head. “You think I’m an idiot for not babying it because it’s worth a small fortune.”
Yup.“Idiot’s a strong word.”
“What if I tell you that Nick wants to live a full life?” she asked, and I could tell she was only half joking. “He doesn’t want to sit in a temperature-controlled garage all day, underneath a protective cover. He was born to be reckless and go fast and probably get in a fender bender or two.”
Why did she make sense when she was talking about her car like it was a person?
“I bought it from a sweet lady whose husband had been obsessed with it. He bought it new in ’69, he died in ’72, and then it sat in her garage until a few months ago when she sold it to me. She said she regretted never taking it out and she made me promise to drive it into the ground. She said she wanted me to put a hundred thousand miles on it and let some snow pile up on the hood every now and then. And I intend to keep my promise.”
How could I not smile at that? I realized as I looked down at her that I had no idea who she was. Wild bride, serious professional, hopeless car romantic; which one was the real her? “You’re very weird, Sophie.”
“I know,” she said, lifting her chin just a little, daring me to pass judgment.
“I like it,” I added, meaning that. There was something about her that... shit, that I liked.
Her eyes moved over my face for a minute, like she was taking in all the details in order to form her own opinion, and then she just said, “Now my life is complete. Text me all the details about tomorrow, okay?”
I flipped her off before turning in the direction of my car, and I heard the familiar sound of her laugh as I walked away.
seven
Sophie
I stepped offthe elevator and headed for my desk, in a good mood after coffee with Max. He’d been funny and not creepy at all, and I’d felt surprisingly comfortable around him, which was weird because I didn’t usually enjoy socializing with strangers.
I don’t know why, but I’d been shocked by how attractive he was. I’d looked him up online after he texted last night and found him on LinkedIn, but there hadn’t been any photos. So yes, I’d remembered him as handsome, but it was in a suited-up,GQkind of way. That morning, though, he’d looked like a different man. Same dark eyes and strong nose, but a totally different aesthetic.
