I froze for a second, then turned in the direction of the reception area. A half dozen steps brought me to the glass double doors. And just beyond them, parked at the curb…
“NO WAY!”
I flung open the doors and ran outside. The sleek red Pontiac GTO was idling noisily at the curb. It sounded hungry, like a wild animal begging to be fed. Smiling from ear to ear, Tate looked back at me through the open passenger window and revved the engine.
“You might want to put the phone down,” he laughed in stereo. “And get your hot little ass in here.”
Thirty-Eight
SERENA
The car devoured the road, thrumming along as the scenery beyond the windows raced by. It was dark, it was late, and I had no idea where we might be going. But I was thrilled to be going there, just the same.
“I can’t believe it’s finally finished!” I cried again joyously, running my hand over every inch of the GTO’s interior. The bucket seats were soft and comfortable. Between us, the big stick of the shifter ended in a very unique knob: a shiny black 8-Ball.
“You added that, didn’t you?”
Tate smiled silently, leaning back into his seat as he put the car through its paces. He looked more than happy, he looked outright ecstatic. Maybe even more than I was.
I shook my head, still in disbelief. I
had a car again! And not just any car, either.
“This thing… it’s amazing.”
“Sure fucking is,” said Tate, turning left down some darkened road. The car lurched as the transmission shifted it smoothly through its gears. “It’s the most badass thing I’ve ever worked on.”
I turned, and the gorgeous mechanic looked hotter than ever. The muscles of his extended arm flexed with every slight turn of the wheel. In the light of the streetlamps, Tate’s green eyes smoldered.
“Where are we going?”
He smiled, and his look got even hotter. We’d been driving a while. I took his non-answer as all the answer I needed, then flipped the radio on as I grabbed his hand and slid my fingers between his.
He’s the perfect man.
He was, really. Then again, so were all of them. I’d dated tall, dark and handsome before, but Tate was a man’s man. The kind who could fix anything when it broke, and always looked forward to getting his hands dirty.
His look complimented Jacob’s, who was the blonder, more bronze-skinned equivalent of his friend and teammate. And then there was Cole, whose incredible hands matched his amazing smile. He could cause my heart to skip with just a look, and those hands could build anything he set his sharp mind to.
Do you really think you’ll end up with any of them?
It was a nagging question, but not a strange one. The age difference wasn’t something I could ignore. I had a whole decade on them. Having turned thirty-one I’d already had my twenties, and was probably looking forward to different things than they were. I wanted to settle down again, with someone I loved. A best friend, a lover, a partner.
I wanted a family…
The car turned again then raced uphill, cutting its way through the darkness. Squeezing Tate’s hand, I pushed all other thoughts from my mind. I wanted to enjoy this moment, but moreover, I wanted him to enjoy it. He’d worked long and hard for this. Not to mention this vehicle was special in other ways, too. Mostly because it was the origin of us getting together.
“Listen to that RAM four,” Tate swore, more to himself than to me. “Son of a bitch, it’s beautiful.”
“What’s a RAM four?”
“Your upgraded engine,” said Tate. “Four-hundred horsepower. This thing could do anything,” he said. “It could go anywhere…”
He zig-zagged through another series of shadowy side roads, then emerged into a smooth, paved area atop a jagged cliff. It was a place I didn’t recognize. I’d never been here, or seen it, or—
“Phalen Memorial Park,” said Tate, swinging the car around. “Best view in about fifty miles.”
The place was empty, except for one or two other cars. We swung past them and kept going, cruising all the way into the last parking spot at the very end. Once there Tate kept the engine running, and the radio low. The warm air from the vents felt soothing as it washed over us.