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“When I found out, I confronted him. He said he would never be able to be with someone like me seriously as I didn’t fit into his family and didn’t have the correct pedigree. I had tried rallying the other women who were in that group and being exploited, but where the guys involved all came from money and powerful families, it was covered up, and the guys only got a slap on the wrist. Their families made donations to the school for counseling for the women and then gave the option to either make a second donation towards a charity of each woman’s choosing or to pay for their tuition.”
There was a slight tremble in my hands when I reached for my glass of water, but Rhett covered it with his own. His thumb ran soothing circles across my palm.
“What was the guy’s name?”
Despite the low volume, his anger seeped through his tone.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s done and in the past. But it cemented my lack of trust in men. As I found myself continuously doubting their true intentions. That was until I met you.”
Slowly, I raised my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw the thanks and tenderness on his face.
Wanting to liven the mood, I changed the subject and began peppering him with questions about his travels and his love of food.
Later, we moved on to a private member’s bar at the top of a hotel overlooking Central Park. I’d have thought we’d have run out of things to talk about by now, but he was so warm and open I felt I could tell him anything, and I did.
There were no awkward silences, no long pauses between topics. I felt utterly at ease with him, just as I had when I took him on the walk to the lookout.
I was slowly nursing a whiskey sour, and Rhett enjoyed a Bourbon.
At dinner, I’d gotten carried away with how much wine I drank. And, there at the bar, I was on my second drink, so I knew I needed to slow down. I didn’t want to get drunk. I knew the more I drank, the more turned on I got.
Alcohol always did that to me.
“So, back to cars,” I jested and couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face before continuing.
“Besides the Gull-wing, what others do you have?”
This time, a smile lit up his face, and I could tell this topic significantly interested him.
“Growing up, I always loved the classics my father and older relatives drove. Once I got my license, my father gifted me his Porsche 911. I know what you’re going to say, spoilt rich kid. Well, yes, I was more fortunate than most, and I loved that car. It was an amazing drive, and the girls loved it.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and laughing.
Rhett chuckled, then continued, “But I loved it most because it had been my father’s. When I was younger, I remember the few times my dad took me out in it. When we were on the open road, he’d drive it so fast it felt like I was on a roller-coaster. It’d always been our little secret as my mother always hated my dad going fast, especially with me in the car. So, it was from there that my love of cars evolved. Now I have the Benz Gull-Wing, a 1971 Ferrari 246GT Dino RHD, an Aston Martin DB5 Vantage, a 1968 Mercedes Benz 280 SL Pagoda – Manual, and a 1952 Jaguar XK120 Supersonic. But my absolute favorite is my 1966 Red Ford Mustang 289 Convertible.”
“You can’t get more classic than that,” I said with a smile.
Most of those he listed I had seen in my dad’s shop or at the car shows he used to take me to. One thing was for sure, I needed to have real pocket change to have those in my collection.
“Well, I have to say, I am extremely impressed. You clearly have more of an interest in the older collection of classics. But with your busy schedule, how do you find time to enjoy them all?”
“There are times when I’m stuck in meetings, and my mind does think about how I would prefer to be out on the open road. Luckily, I have my cars at mine and my family’s various properties, so whenever I can take a few days off, I head out there and enjoy them. You know, you’re the first woman I have met that I can have this conversation with and not be bored senseless.”
Over my glass, I give him a shy smile.
“I’m not boring you, am I?”
There again was the doubt etched across his face.
“No, of course you’re not boring me. It’s refreshing to have this conversation with someone under the age of fifty. Most of the customers at my dad’s shop are older, and they have this way of talking to me about cars as if I came from another planet. I do love the surprise on their faces when I quickly put them in their place. Just like I did the first time I met you.”
Retrieving my drink, I finished it off with a flourish. I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me or with me. And as I was feeling the buzz from my drink, I didn’t care.
“Guilty as charged. You took me by surprise. I’m unsure if it was your quick understanding of what was up with my car, how hot you looked, or your beautiful singing voice?”
Jesus, how embarrassing. I hated people hearing me sing. With family, it was OK. But not strangers. I grew up singing along to our favorite songs in the car with everyone. God knew how often Ruby and I would think we were American Idol finalists, belting out Whitney or Mariah as we were getting ready for a night out.
But now, knowing Rhett had heard me, that felt too intimate. As if he’d seen a part of me, I never showed in public.
