Page 163 of When There Was You
I’m gyrating,dyingto know what he’s hiding from me. Three more minutes. I finish tying my shoes since he said we’re going…somewhere. I’m in the dark on how to dress, so I donned my standard Levi’s, T-shirt, and sneakers.
Time.
I bolt downstairs and out the front door, and my mouth drops open. I’m stunned into silence, frozen in place.
The lumberjack standsin front of a Camaro,one of his hands resting lightly on the roof. It’s painted Rally Green with fat white stripes on the hood and rear. My breaths escalate. It’s not justanyChevy Camaro… it’s the kind I’ve always wanted.
A 1969 Z/28.
I stop gawking and finally descend the porch steps, eyes locked on the vehicle. “It’s gorgeous. Beautiful. Sexy.”
Butch’s eyes meet mine. “I couldn’t agree more.”
“But you’re a Mopar man. What is this?”
“Baby, this is a true testament of my love for you. It’s an early wedding present.”
My heart skips, tumbles, crashes. I stare disbelievingly.
He holds out the keys. “I restored it for you. As much as it pained me, it’s your dream car, and you’remydream, so it’s yours, Sundance.”
My eyes tear and I throw my entire body at him, leaping into his arms and almost knocking him to the ground. I pepper his face with kisses—over his eyes, cheeks, nose, lips. I whoop loud enough that Butch winces, but I’m grinning and he’s grinning as I overflow with sensations.
I jump down, grab the keys, and make a full revolution of the…my…Camaro.
Cowl induction hood. Pristine paint. Mag wheels.
Butch holds the driver’s-side door open, and I slide into the seat with my heart thudding wildly against my ribcage. My hand grazes the shifter—four on the floor—then over the immaculate black dash, white upholstery, and steering wheel.
Butch climbs into the passenger side and I squeal, the natural high soaring through my veins.
“Start her up,” he says.
The smile on my face can’t stretch any wider, even when the motor cranks out that growling, sputtering, rough idle. I rev the gas just to hear it roar.
“It’s got a 302 cubic engine and 450 horsepower.”
She’s gonna go fast.
“And—”
It dawns on me then. “Youpainted it green?”
He grins with a sheepish shrug. “Your favorite color.”
“God, I love you,” I say, planting another kiss on those generous lips.
He traces my jaw. “Clearly, I love you. Now show me whatcha got.”
I depress the clutch, shift into first, and gun it down the driveway, spraying a little gravel, then slow...I don’t want to scuff the paint. Once I get on pavement, all bets are off. The car roars and my gleeful laugh nearly eclipses it as I let it fly. My movements are fluid as I navigate through all four gears on these country roads, amazed at how this emerald machine handles, accelerates, and sounds. It’s possibly the most elating thirty minutes of my life—and that’s saying something.
Even though I could happily drive all the way to the Florida Keys in this all-mine muscle car, I reluctantly return home. When I shut off the ignition, my brain whirls, overwhelmed at the magnitude of this gift. It’s of mind-boggling proportions, and I’m caught somewhere between jubilant and bawling.
“You okay over there?” Butch ventures.
I shake my head, biting my lip.
“Come here, baby.”
