Page 73 of After Care

His mouth crushed mine as he met me at the airport. It was almost embarrassing, but it had been weeks since our lips had been together, and he devoured me, publicly.

The coolness of San Francisco accosted me in a good way. I’d left behind zero-degree temperatures, so I was thrilled to shed my heavy jacket. Tommy took my bag and held my hand as he led me to his car. The vehicle wasn’t exactly what I pictured him driving, and I stared at it.

“Is that a ’65 Mustang in robin egg blue?”

“You know cars, darlin’?” I knew even less about cars than I knew of music, but this car I recognized.

“This is my dream car,” I sighed, swiping a finger along its curved edges as I passed to the passenger side.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice teased, husky and puddle-plopping. “What did you dream of doing in a car like this?” I looked up to find his eyebrow wiggling, hinting, and I laughed.

“I’d dream of you doing me on that hood.” Tommy stared at me, bracing his hands on the trunk where he’d just placed my suitcase. He stalked toward me without a word, his face dropping. When he reached me, he almost knocked me over as he pressed me into the passenger side door and kissed me hard. He wasted no time, lowering his hips and grinding into me.

“God, I’ve missed you, beautiful,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. He opened my door, and I sat on the leather seats, rubbing my hands up and down the worn canvas. It was a beautiful car, a musician’s car, and one that cried badass and carefree. He lowered to his seat and started the engine, which purred. Pulling onto the highway, I got a glimpse of the hazy surrounding area.

“Fog,” Tommy clarified. “It isn’t a joke.” Neither was the traffic. Chicago didn’t even rival this standstill. Eventually, we broke free as we seemed to be travelling north.

“Where we headed?” I asked, hinting at my unasked question. Why wasn’t he taking me to his home in LA?

He drove with his right hand, and his left hand ruffled the bands at his wrist—a set of wooden brown beads, a solid silver bangle, and a leather strap. Jiggling them, he seemed nervous.

“I thought I’d take you some place special.” His eyes shifted to me before returning to the road.

“Okay,” I smiled.

“Yeah?” His lips curled.

“Sure.”

“We’re going to Napa. I know a vineyard inn there that’s private.” He was elusive, and it sounded romantic, but the privacy thing struck me.

“Are you worried that people would recognize you?” He shrugged and replied. “It happens.”

Another thought occurred to me.

“Are you worried people would see you…with me?” His head spun to face me, briefly blinking in shock before gazing back out the front window.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” The pause lasted a beat. “I mean, look at me.” I waved a hand before myself. “And look at you.” I dismissively flung my hand in his direction as my heart dripped like candlewax to my stomach. “We don’t exactly match.”

“What?” His voice rose, irritation lacing the edges.

“I mean, you’re all leather and I’m not even lace. I’m just cotton and occasional pearls.” Come to think of it, I hadn’t worn my pearls since I met Tommy, but that was beside the point.

“Darlin’, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re Lawson Colt and I’m just Edie Williams,” I said exasperated.

“First,” he bit. “I am not Lawson Colt. I’m me, Tommy Carrigan. And second, you’re more than just pearls, although you’re just as precious and pure. I like that about you. It makes you different than the bullshit I see.”

“Different,” I sighed, my shoulders lowering as I stared out the window.

“Yes, different, in a good way, in the best way. You aren’t assuming. You aren’t scheming. You aren’t money hungry, or gold digging, or even recognizing of who’s who. You’re just you, and I love it. I love you,” he said adamantly.

“I just worry that I’m not enough.”

He sighed as he swiped a hand through his hair. The silver shimmered in the sunshine. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”