Page 48 of Blue Jean Summer

“I moved some things around,” he said. “I feel bad about you getting stuck with all the wedding planning. I need to do my part.”

I rested my elbow on the center console and stared at him. “You just want to pay for the rings, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said without a hint of shame.

I made a dramatic performance of sighing. “Fine. You can pay.”

His smirk was victorious. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Just getting you ready for a long and miserable marriage, dear future husband,” I offered nonchalantly as I inspected my nails.

Hayes laughed long and loud. I loved when he laughed like that. He didn’t do it nearly enough.

He draped his arm across the console, long fingers grazing my thigh. “I can’t imagine being miserable with you.” He immediately recoiled and pulled his hand away. “I mean…if this was real.”

“I know what you meant,” I said as I nudged him with my elbow. “But just so you know, one day you’re going to have to ride in my car, and you’re going to love it.”

“I’ll ride in your car if you get a different car,” he said as the SUV tires bumped and bobbed.

“Maybe I will. You know, since being your wife pays so well. Can you buy a car with a credit card?”

“You can with mine.”

Yeah. He was rich rich.

“So, what’s the dream?” Hayes asked.

“What dream?”

“Your dream car. What would it be?”

“Who says I’m not driving my dream car?” I countered. “Maybe I like having a car where I don’t feel guilty over getting french fry salt on the steering wheel or tossing straw wrappers onto the floorboard.”

Hayes arched an eyebrow.

“Fine. A 1965 Mustang convertible in candy apple red.”

“That’s very specific.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I love a classic.”

That piqued his interest. “You want the most impractical car for living in a mountain town where it snows?”

“Dream cars aren’t supposed to be practical. They’re supposed to be sexy and fun.” We eased through the single stoplight that welcomed us into Honey Hollow. I craned around, trying to see out his window. “Darn it.”

Hayes frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“The Moo Brew isn’t parked by Ranch Dressing today.”

“You had coffee at the house right before we left.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know, I know,” Hayes grumbled. “It tastes better if someone else makes it.” He parked along the street. “I’m learning.”

“Someday, you’ll make an excellent husband for a very lucky lady,” I said as I patted his arm, then unbuckled. “But today you have to get a ring so you can be mine.”

Hayes was at my door, opening it before I could even reach for the handle. The hem of my dress fluttered in the breeze as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.