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“Charmer,” she grins.

Charmer. It isn’t a big word, but it does something dangerous to me anyway.

I open the passenger door and hold the train of her gown as she lowers herself onto the seat. I close the door behind her, walk around to the driver’s side, and slide in.

She is looking at the interior, her fingers moving over the carbon-fibre trim on the dash.

“Nice car,” she murmurs.

And then, as if reading from a spec sheet located somewhere in that extraordinary brain of hers she says, “Mercedes-AMG GT 63 S. Four-door coupe. Matte Magno finish.” She looks around the car, as if deep in thought, as she adds, “630 horsepower… twin-turbo V8?”

I freeze. My mouth literally hangs open in pure shock.

For once in my adult life, I am actually lost for words—completely without a response.

I turn my head and stare at her.

“Huh?”

I can’t seem to find any other words in the English language.

She looks up at me through her lashes, the sharp glint in her eyes deepening to something mischievous I’ve never seen before.

"Am I wrong?”

“Uh. No. But… what?”

“Just because I’m a music nerd and bookworm doesn’t mean I don’t know my cars, Thorne.” She pauses, letting me stare as a full smirk appears on her face. “My boyfriend back in Boston was more interested in his Audi RS6 than anything else in his life, including me—which I did not fully acknowledge at the time.” A pause. “He was relentless with his descriptions of German cars in particular. Over time, I absorbed them involuntarily.” She runs her fingers over the trim again. “I actually love cars now.”

There are genuinely no words left. I continue staring.

Where has this girl been all my life?

“He drove an RS6?” I ask. Apparently, this is the single detail my brain has chosen to process.

“Avant.” There is zero hesitation. “Nardo Grey.”

A breathless laugh escapes me. Short, genuine and completely beyond my control.

I shake my head as I close the door, muttering under my breath because I can’t help it. “Unbelievable.”

Ellise continues, adding to the absurdity of this conversation.

“He named it Wowdi.” She giggles. “As in, wow, that’s an amazing car, and Audi combined.”

I look at her in utter disbelief.

“He named his car, Wowdi?”

What a complete fucking clown.

She looks at me sideways, the giggle still lingering in her voice.

“So, now I can identify most German cars by sight. It’s not a skill I asked for but apparently earned from being with Eric.”

She stops abruptly. The name hangs in the quiet air of the car.

Eric.