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“Morning,” I said, trying not to melt under his stare because he was looking at me like he wanted to kiss me.
But he didn’t, and that was fine, because we were still in front of the building, and there were other important things to do, like get snacks.
It didn’t matter what time of day it was—snacks were customary for every car ride at least two hours long. I didn’t even have to say a word for Adam to know to drop by my quesataco truck, and it didn’t even matter that we’d both had breakfast recently. It was understood. When the ride was two or more hours long, we got to have car snacks and second coffee.
“What, are these for the way back?” I snorted when Adam somewhat swerved to get out of the way of a crazy driver, then immediately told me to check on the cinnamon rolls in the back. He smirked at my question.
“Yeah. From Heidi. They’re okay?”
I laughed. “Yes, the cinnamon rolls are unharmed. You managed to swerve this giant-ass car very smoothly.”
“Well, I’ve been driving this thing for fifteen years, so I better.”
I nodded absently before pausing. “Wait—what? You’ve been driving this very car since you were seventeen?”
“No, not this one. But it was a pretty similar Range Rover.”
My eyebrows went up. “Well, la dee da,” I teased, making him grin. “I grew up driving a hand-me-down Honda. Which was honestly pretty good for sneaking in and out of the house. I can’t imagine being stealthy with this beast of a car. Even just the flash of my Civic lights coming into the driveway was enough to wake up my mom.”
“Well, my dad was on and off with how hard he tried to stop me from sneaking out. But even when he did have the energy to try and keep me in check, it was still pretty easy ‘cause we had this circle driveway. And my parents’ bedroom faced the backyard anyway.”
“I see,” I said, adding the details to my existing image of Adam’s childhood.
It was always funny thinking about what teenaged Adam was like, because it was the part of him I didn’t really know at all. We didn’t talk often about his childhood in New Jersey because, well, we had about nine million more important things to talk about on a daily basis and beyond that, the topic generally led back to his mom, and how he openly despised her.
Hell, I kind of despised her too. It was why I’d been so active in helping his sister finally carry out her long-hatched secret plan to move out. Adam and I had actually fought constantly over her during that time, bickering about whether it was best for her to live in this neighborhood or that, and whether she should go with my real estate friend or his. In the end, Holland got so sick of our debating that she resorted to an extremely sketchy apartment listing on Craiglist.
Thankfully, it led her to a perfect roommate, who indirectly led her back to Iain’s life.
I smiled as I thought about them, trying to conjure up my most vivid image of the Maxwell household.
“Okay, so Range Rover. Circle driveway. And from what I recall, Iain would crash in your pool house when he stayed over,” I said. Adam peered at me, wearing a quizzical look but already laughing.
“Yeah. What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. I’m just rounding out the already-clear picture I had of who Adam Maxwell was in high school.”
Adam snorted. “Which was what?”
“King of Barton Prep. Life of the party. Drove all his teachers nuts by paying zero attention in class and being a complete dickhead yet somehow always acing the tests. Star of the basketball team. Probably started for the football team too, whether or not he deserved that position.”
Adam laughed. “Shit. You actually nailed it.”
“And just to round out my stereotypical presumptions, I’m going to go ahead and guess that you were prom king.”
“I was not, because Barton Prep was a Catholic all-boys school and we didn’t have time for that dumb bullshit.”
“Oh, well excuse me. I’m just a public school kid who actually had normal things like homecoming and prom.”
“Well, we had prom,” Adam said. “We just didn’t have prom court.”
“I see. And who was your date?”
Adam looked over his shoulder as he switched lanes, and I thought he hadn’t heard my question. But a couple seconds later, he answered, “My girlfriend.”
I blinked.
He glanced at me. “You look surprised.”
