She dropped her head slightly and raised her brows at me. “I probably could have worked out which car it was without the colour.”
I scanned the street. She had a point; there were no other Jags to be seen. I ignored her statement, though, and opened the door for her. This earned me another eyebrow raise. “What?” I asked.
She slid into the seat before looking up at me. “It’s not often a man opens the door for a woman anymore.”
“There should be more of it,” I said.
“I agree.”
Once she had her seatbelt on, I closed her door and walked around to my side. I had no idea where we were going today, but I hoped it wasn’t close by. The more time alone with her, the better, as far as I was concerned.
A couple of minutes later, I pulled away from the kerb, and we were silent until she said, “I always wondered why people would spend so much on a car. Still don’t really get it, but this is pretty damn comfortable.”
I found her honesty refreshing. Glancing at her, I asked, “Did you grow up with money?”
“Yes.”
“But they didn’t spend it on cars?”
“They did. They had so much money and bought anything and everything they wanted or thought I wanted.” She paused before adding softly, “We were the most miserable people you could ever meet. Money did that to us.”
“And that’s why you wonder why people spend so much on cars.”
“Bingo. If my parents had spent their time like they spent their money, happy would have been my middle name.” She shifted in her seat, and I glanced across to see her looking at me. “How about you, Donovan? Did you have money growing up?”
“No. My mother worked her ass off just to give me the basics, let alone anything else.”
“So, it was just you and your mother?”
“Yeah.”
“And your Dad? Where was he?”
Usually, I hated being pushed to talk about Marcus, so it stunned the hell out of me when I found myself answering her question. “Marcus was married to another woman and had another family. He visited us when it suited him and hardly gave my mother any money.”
She sat silently next to me. When she still hadn’t said anything a couple of moments later, I turned to look at her. She was staring at me with a look I couldn’t place. I frowned. “What?”
“No offence to you, because you strike me as one of the good guys, but fuck, men can be assholes sometimes.”
I nodded and murmured, “Yeah.”
If only she knew the half of it.
We retreated from each other, lost in our own minds for the remainder of the trip. It was an easy silence. Hell, although Layla could be stubborn and argumentative, being with her was easy. The half-hour drive passed quickly, and when she directed me to the rundown house in a shitty suburb I knew well, I cursed under my breath.
The past always came back to bite you in the ass.
I cut the engine and looked at Layla. “Why don’t you wait here while I go in and deal with this?”
“Like hell. I told you I wanted to be here for this. I’ve got shit I want to say to him, too.”
I squeezed my fingers around the steering wheel. Why did she have to choose now to dig her heels in? “Layla, I told you, if shit went south you had to do as I said.”
“Shit hasn’t gone south yet.”
“Yeah, well, it’s about to.”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “Why? What are you about to do?”