“This is Jazz,” Phantom told them. “Han brought her home with him from Hawaii.”
You’d think that would have cleared everything up, but that only got me more confused looks, like a green sea turtle had wandered into their predators-only habitat.
At least they were a lot politer than Phantom. They mumbled hello, and one of them even introduced themselves with a handshake.
“Hi, I’m Wang. I usually drive Victor around, but I’ll be coming with you to Delaware since he doesn’t need my services right now.”
I smiled back at him, appreciating his spin on the situation. “Doesn’t need my services right now” sounded a whole lot better than “seems to be having a complete mental breakdown.”
However, I’m surprised a few hours later when Han and I leave the house with our bags. Instead of jumping in one of the three Audis pulling out of the long circular driveway, Han led me over to a large, free-standing garage and lifted one of the several sliding doors.
My eyes widen when I found a muscle car standing behind it. I’m not into vintage cars myself, but my father was. And thanks to the weather that prevented wear and tear and the price of shipping, Oahu had a serious fetish for older rides. So I knew just enough to tell the car was a classic, probably from the 70s.
“What is this?” I asked Han.
“My Mercury Cougar. Normally I prefer to drive myself around, and this is how I travel.”
The Mercury Cougar wasn’t the only gem in his collection. He had a mid-70s Corvette, a Pontiac GTO, and even an original Ford Mustang. Apparently, he’d restored all of them himself in his free time.
“I would never have guessed you had a hobby,” I said after surveying his impressive collection. I threw him a teasing glance. “Is that why you chose me of all women to bring home? Because I’m a fixer-upper?”
“No,” he answered with a cool Fae King look.
I waited for a further explanation. But he not only didn’t expound on the subject, he changed it altogether.
“Pick the car you want to drive to Delaware,” he told me. “That’s an order.”
HAN
She chose the Mercury Cougar.
Han tried not to make too much of it. It was a beautiful car. And yes, it was strange for someone unfamiliar with 70s cars to pick it as their favorite—Victor and Phantom both preferred the Corvette, even though Han had explained the Mercury Cougar’s superiority to them several times.
But Jasmine choosing this particular car for the Delaware trip didn’t mean anything.
Yet…
He glanced over at Jasmine again.
“What?” she said this time. “You keep on looking at me. Is it because of my hair?”
Indeed, her hair was now a mess. The steadfast ponytail was used to ocean water and gentle tropical breezes. It proved no match to the Delaware wind currently whipping through the car’s open windows as they sped down one of the backroads he preferred to the highway when it came to driving in one of his beauties. It had taken them nearly two hours over the usual five to reach Delaware, but the trip had been worth it.
They’d talked on various subjects. Easy ones, like how cold the East Coast ocean water was in August. And complicated ones, like why his body was only half-covered in tattoos. Han was known for being charming, especially when it came to seducing women.
But during their trip, he’d come to realize just how much effort had gone into his façade. With Jasmine, there was no analysis to figure out what she wanted to hear. No tricks or laser-focused flirting. Their conversation had flown with natural ease, without any underlying agenda. It had felt good just to talk with her and get to know her that much better. Like sunshine in his chest.
“No, you look perfect,” he answered her now, giving her and her outfit and an appreciative once over.
She’d come back upstairs from breakfast and donned one of her new dresses, mumbling something about maybe needing to look like a Dragon’s girlfriend because she’d gotten a lot of strange looks from the guys downstairs while dressed in her baggy t-shirt and surf shorts.
She looked so pretty in the peach sundress, he’d decided not to explain that she’d gotten looks for her mere presence as an overnight guest of Han’s—something he’d never had.
“I don’t feel perfect,” she retorted to his compliment. “I think this bra is mad that I tried to cut it up yesterday. It’s stabbing me in my underboob. I’m taking this thing off as soon as we get to your place in Delaware.”
“You won’t take it off,” Han replied. “That’s an order.”
“You’re really trying to tell me not to take off this bra, even though it’s straight-up trying to murder me?” Jasmine asked, her voice full of outrage.
They were on a straight road with no cars in front of them, so Han moved his hand from the gear shift to her soft inner thigh.
