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“You know it.” He tugs on the front of the white button-down shirt he’s wearing. It may be a warm and sunny Saturday morning, but Daniel is wearing charcoal gray pants and shoes I know were imported from Italy. He looks every inch the casual businessman, right down to the top two buttons that are undone on his shirt.
I dressed for comfort, so I paired jeans with a black and white blouse. They are both pieces I chose and paid for myself years ago. Since I have no commitments to sponsors today, I’m wearing an outfit that I love.
“Where have you been hiding this car?” I step closer to it, marveling at how pristine it is, right down to the white leather seats. “You don’t have an apartment in New York, so are you paying for a parking spot?”
“No,” he answers succinctly.
He doesn’t add any other details, so I press for more. “Were you parking it in someone else’s spot?”
“Like who?” he asks the question with a smirk.
“A friend,” I say, even though I’m wondering if one of his exes is doing him a favor by storing the car for him.
“As in a woman?” His arms cross his chest. “Is my wife jealous again? Is that what’s happening? Because truth be told, Gina, I’d rather park in your spot every day of the week than anyone else’s.”
I try to hold in a smile, but I fail. “I don’t have an available parking spot, Lawton.”
He chuckles. “We need to hit the road.”
“Where did you keep it?” I ask just as he’s about to grab the passenger door handle. “Why didn’t you have it transported to California when you moved there? It’s the perfect car for Los Angeles, isn’t it?”
His hand leaps from the handle to my forearm. He circles it gently with his fingers. “It’s been in my uncle’s garage in Queens since my dad died. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it because of the missed opportunity, but today felt like the right time to be brave and jump in the driver’s seat.”
I look down to see his hand slide to my tattoo. He edges a fingertip over the script on my wrist.
“I’m glad you asked me to go along for the ride,” I whisper as I stare into his eyes.
“Me too.” He exhales. “Get in and buckle up. Our next adventure awaits.”
* * *
I closemy eyes as the wind whips my hair against my cheek. We left New York City twenty minutes ago, and as soon as the traffic started to thin, I took an audible breath.
That drew a glance from the man sitting next to me, who is handling this car like he’s been behind the wheel of it for years.
I saw his hands shake when he first pulled away from the curb in front of my building in Manhattan. Once we were on our way, his posture loosened, and he relaxed.
“What happened with you and McCabe?”
That question opens my eyes, sending my hand up to slide my sunglasses off. “What?”
Daniels glances at me, but his eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses. “You heard me, Gina. What happened between you and Brogan McCabe?”
I gaze at the road ahead and the back of the RV cruising down the highway in front of us. “That’s none of your business.”
“I made it my business when I broke the rules.”
Again, I look at him but turn in my seat, being mindful of my seatbelt. “What does that mean?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” I say. “You can’t toss that out and not explain it. What rules did you break, and how the hell does it relate to my ex?”
“Drop it, Gina.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” I point out. “Actually, why did you bring it up? Why now?”
“Because you’re stuck in this car and can’t escape.”
