Page 63 of When There Was You
I do like his manners. And his car. My head tilts toward the Barracuda. “Next time, I’d love to go for a ride in that. I’m kind of a freak for muscle cars.”
“Yeah? What’s your favorite?”
I don’t hesitate. “A 1969 Camaro Z/28.”
Butch groans, his head dropping in exaggerated agony.
Hand on my hip, I flash him attitude. “What?”
“I don’t know if we can see each other again.”
Is he joking? “Why not?”
“Because I’m a Mopar man, sweetheart. And we don’t associate with Chevys, Fords, or any other makes.” He sucks in a breath with a dramatic wince, letting it go with a loud whoosh. “It might be a dealbreaker.”
Oh yeah?Walking away, I toss over my shoulder, “Your loss.”
His chuckle follows me as I make my way to his parents, conversing in their front yard. I thank them for their generosity and say goodbye.
Upon my return, Butch opens my car door.
I cast him a flippant glance. “You still here?”
He smiles broadly as I settle into the driver’s side. “I can’twait to experience more of that sass.And incredible ass,” he adds, leaning in lower and saying that last bit just loud enough for my ears.
Uhhhhhhh. I blink hard, my thoughts stalling.
“I’ll call you,” he promises. His green eyes fasten so intently on mine that my heart stutters.
He shuts my door and giddiness skids through me. Because goddamn, I really hope he does.
Thirty-Five
Itwine my fingers in the telephone cord as Butch explains his passion for Barracudas, making the case for why they’re superior muscle cars. I’m stretched across my bed backwards with my hair splayed like a fan on the comforter and my legs crossed at the ankles up against the wall.
In this position, I feel like a teenager, more so because of the exuberant flutters dancing through my cells and the stupid smile on my face.
We’ve been on the phone thirty minutes. He called.Like he said he would.Didn’t even wait twenty-four hours.
It doesn’t seem like he wants the call to end, despite how much it’s costing him in toll charges…and that fuels the flutters even more.
“I’m officially jealous.” I sigh, defeated over never owning my dream car. “I drove a Beetle through college. My Dad thought it was economical. And he did pay for my gas. Still…”
“I’ll deny it in a court of law if you repeat this, but VWs are great cars,” he says.
“Hmm…notdealbreakers?”
He chuckles. “Still a dealbreaker.”
“Wow, guess I’m zero for two. Why are you still talking to me?”
“I want to see you again, Sundance.”
That sexy, smooth voice of his will be the death of me. And the sincere way he spoke those words has my stomach dipping. “I’d like that too.”
“Tomorrow? I could take you for a ride.”
I bark out a laugh.
