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“Jesse? I asked if you wanted to come meet Becky when she comes in town?” Kay said, her hand on my arm gently shaking me back to focus on her.
“What? Oh, uh…sure, sure.” I glanced over my shoulder to get another look at the strange man, but he was gone. The hair on my neck no longer stood at attention, but something about his presence lingered with me that afternoon with every erratic beat of my heart.
5
After four years of living in the Pacific Northwest, you think I’d be used to the constant drizzle and the way my clothes were never quite dry, but as I headed down the stairs of my apartment, I couldn’t suppress a groan at the rain that greeted me. I knew the sun still lurked somewhere up there, and maybe one day I’d get a chance to see it, but that would probably mean moving down the coast, somewhere like sunny San Diego. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, I thought, unlocking my old rust bucket, a ’93 sedan I called Pretty Baby. There was nothing pretty about the peeling red paint on the hood, but I figured showering her with compliments would give the old girl incentive to actually start—something that was becoming increasingly harder to manage.
I put the keys in the ignition and turned her on…or attempted to. There wasn’t even a groan of annoyance at being woken up, and I tried cranking her up again. Nothing. Dead silence.
“Oh, come on, Pretty Baby, not today. Please not today,” I said, trying in vain to get something out of her, any little spark of life that meant she wouldn’t be going to the junkyard later. I couldn’t afford another car, and I didn’t want to manage without one, not with the possibility of an internship coming up in a couple of weeks. The city’s bus system was unreliable at best, which meant I’d be walking the miles back and forth. Great.
After giving the ignition one more try, I sighed and popped the hood. I didn’t know much about cars—nothing, really—but I figured maybe looking at it would help me at least pinpoint the problem. The hood creaked as I lifted it and stared down at the mess of black boxes and wires, and I realized pretty quickly how out of my element I was. All I could tell was where the battery was, but the rest of it? It was a jumble of stuff that didn’t mean anything to me. What, like there’d be some flashing red light that would tell me exactly what the problem was? Yeah, real genius right here.
Dammit. There was no way I could afford to have someone look at her, and I definitely couldn’t shell out for whatever fix she needed, so the best-case scenario here was… Well, there wasn’t one. I was shit out of luck.
“Thanks a lot,” I muttered, straightening and then taking out my frustration by kicking one of the front tires. Okay, so I’ll call in to work and tell them I’ll be late, and then— Oh holy hell.
My eyes widened at the sleek black Aston Martin purring its way down the road. It was beautiful, and easily the most extravagant car I’d seen around these parts. I stared at it as it made its way closer, and then realized what a heap of junk I was standing in front of. Scooting back, I pretended to busy myself with something under the hood so whoever was driving wouldn’t pay me any attention.
The sports car slowed to a stop beside me, and I poked my head up to see why.
Wow. Up close, the car was even more impressive. What I wouldn’t do to take a spin in that.
One of the heavily tinted windows lowered slowly, and as the man behind the wheel came into view, a flush of shame heated my face. If I’d thought the car was beautiful, it had nothing on the driver. Coal-colored hair swept back from his angular face was only the beginning of the dark features that made up his striking appearance. He had hypnotic eyes beneath brows the same shade as that inky hair, and they were the color of rich chocolate. They seemed to be taking measure of me, and as they did, the smile that morphed his full lips straddled a fine line between friendly and sensual. Either way, it made my heart race.
“Car trouble?” he asked, and that smooth, velvety rumble of his voice was something I felt all the way down to my toes.
“Uh…no,” I said automatically, and then shook my head. “I mean, yes. It won’t start.”
He lifted a brow. “No? Maybe I can help.”
“No, that won’t be—” I started, but the man was already pulling his car to the space in front of mine.
