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Quickly I dressed back in my uniform, now a little more wrinkled than before, and headed for the garage. With dad being so ill, I guessed he hadn’t had time to retrieve the bag. When I checked the limo, I found I had guessed correctly. Now all I had to do was deliver it.
Sure, I’d taken the time to get back into uniform, but I was technically off the clock so I decided to drive my own car over there – my beloved Ford Mustang.
Traffic was light and before I knew it, I was pulling into the driveway. There weren’t many lights on, and I didn’t want to wake the entire house. I sent him a quick text.
A moment later, the front door opened. He walked over to my car, mouth open in admiration, and before I even got out he asked, “Is this your car, Annabella?”
“It is. Hope you weren’t expecting the limo,” I said.
“Trust me, I’d rather ride in this. And it’s a stick, too.”
“It’s a 1983 --”
He cut in, “Mustang 5.0 GT. You can go zero to sixty in under seven seconds.” He eyed the car again and said, “Nice.”
“Thanks. Your bag is on the seat,” I said, since he hadn’t even mentioned it.
“How long have you had it?” he asked, ignoring my hint to grab the bag so I could leave.
“My dad got it for me when I graduated high school.”
“Wow. That’s one hell of a graduation gift,” he said.
“Trust me, I earned it. I had a 4.0 grade point average and earned a full scholarship to Boston University,” I said proudly. I wasn’t sure why I was boasting. The man was obviously only interested in one thing: my car.
“You mentioned dinner tomorrow,” he said.
“I did. To make up for my negligence.”
“I already have dinner plans, but I can think of something else I’d rather have,” he said.
Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking?
“What is that?”
“I could really use a cup of coffee and I don’t have any transportation. Everyone is already sleeping. Would you mind giving me a ride?” he asked.
“Coffee? It’s almost midnight,” I said.
“I could drink it all day.”
“That can’t be healthy, but okay. I know a place that’s open late. Good coffee and they serve breakfast all day.”
“Steak and eggs?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Never read the menu. I always get strawberry and blueberry stuffed crepes with whipped cream.” My mouth watered just thinking of it.
He opened the passenger door, grabbed his bag, and tossed it into the backseat before climbing in. “You got me sold. I’m starving.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take you away from your…time here,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to call the woman. His girlfriend, date, or maybe even wife.
“No one will even notice I’m gone.”
“Okay.” I started the engine and it roared to life. I couldn’t believe I almost stalled it when I lifted off the clutch. He was a distraction, but I covered myself by saying, “Mr. Marzoni, would you mind buckling your seatbelt, please?”
He reached over and did as I asked. “Call me Colton.”
He absolutely seemed like a Colton, with that muscled physique, deep husky voice, and country accent.
