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“Oh my God, thank you.”
I chuckle. “In you get.”
We slide onto the Ebony Windsor leather seats and buckle ourselves in. “It smells amazing,” she says. “All leather and new carpet. When did you get it?”
“Monday.”
“Jesus, Damon!”
“You’re the first person I’ve taken out in it.” I start the engine, and the car gives a throaty purr. I reverse back a few feet, then slide the car out, heading north toward the ferry. “She’s looking forward to stretching her legs on the coast road.”
She explores the dash, opening compartments and running her fingers across the leather. “She’s beautiful. I’d love a car like this.”
“Why don’t you have one? I would’ve thought you, of all people, would want to drive, and it’s not as if you can’t afford it.” Alex and Gaby have an Audi R8 and a BMW M4 respectively. Her mother is a famous actress, one of the most famous in Hollywood, so Belle and her siblings must have plenty of cash to go around.
“Parking is such a nightmare,” Belle says. “It’s easier to Uber everywhere in the city. And anyway, I don’t like flashing money around. People change when they know my family’s rich.”
I give a short laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“You too?”
“Yeah. My ex and I were having a party, and a friend came up and told me he’d heard her boasting that she’d hooked a billionaire and was about to land me. Five minutes later, she proposed to me in front of everyone.”
“Seriously?”
“She went down on one knee and everything.”
“Oh my God! What did you do?”
“I walked out.”
“I’m guessing she didn’t react well to that.”
“She cut up all my suits and keyed my fucking E-type.”
She inhales sharply. “What a bitch!”
“Yeah.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Nope.”
She laughs. “Are you dating anyone else at the moment?”
“Nope. Playing the field.”
“Sowing your wild oats?”
“Planting as many cereal grains as I can.”
She giggles. “Still the rebel playboy. You haven’t changed.”
I thought I had, for a while. When I met Rachel, I was working hard, and I was tired of the dating scene. The notion of having someone of my own, of being special to someone, maybe even of settling down, appealed to me. It was a huge mistake. We weren’t compatible at all, and she drove me nuts. It was the third time I’d had a committed relationship fail, and I haven’t dated anyone seriously since—haven’t even been close. When I need to scratch the physical itch, I just go on Tinder. Who needs the hassle of a full-time relationship anyway?
“Nah,” I confirm. “Old dogs and new tricks, and all that.”
“Old dogs,” she scoffs. “You’re only, what, twenty-six?”
