Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Well, naturally.” Laughing, he picked Hercules up. “You put him in enough human clothing. He thinks he’s one of us. Nice Hawaiian shirt choice.”
“He gets cold.” Which was true, but it was also true that I’d spent way more time than I should have picking out something for the dog to wear for our trip that would earn a smile from Harley. “The clothes are a practicality.”
“One sweater is a practicality, boss.” Harley was chuckling hard enough that Hercules jiggled in his arms. Yup. Totally addicted to this man’s smile and laugh. “A wardrobe is a commitment. If it were me, he’d have to make do with some lumpy thing my aunt knit.”
“Well, luckily, he has me.” I was laughing too as I stowed our bags in the area behind the seats. I’d had the storage area under the rear window tricked out in the same red and black color scheme and leather trim package as the rest of the interior.
“Wow." Harley whistled low as he checked out the inside of the car with impressive thoroughness. “I thought the exterior was badass, but this takes the cake. Custom dash, upgraded audio, killer shifter, high-class upholstery work. This is a piece of art.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Providing him a nice ride was a bonus, as was getting to hang out with someone who appreciated automotive excellence. Few of my Hollywood contacts shared my interest in classic cars, so this was a treat for me too.
“Like doesn’t even come close to it.” He ran a hand over the seat, touch so reverent I had the sudden urge to cover myself in head-to-toe leather.
“You want first turn driving?” Finished loading up, I dangled the keys.
“Nah.” He slid his big frame into the passenger seat, deftly settling the dog into the crook of his right arm. “Me and Herc will ride shotgun. I wanna see how she handles for you, but also, I’m not wasting my chance to drive on LA traffic. I figure a little patience, and I’ll get a sweet stretch of I-5 or 101 to open her up on.”
Harley managed to make taking turns driving sound like the sexiest thing ever. With a little patience, I’d open every damn thing for him. Taking a moment to situate myself in the driver’s seat, I tried for a mature tone. “I appreciate someone who gets the benefits of delayed gratification.”
“Yeah, I’m big on that.” Harley turned a most surprising shade of pink. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one whose brain had gone straight to sex thoughts.
“Me too. I always wait on dessert.” I let my voice be just flirty enough to get another blush out of Harley. But I wasn’t about to spend the weekend coming on to him, so I turned back to the business at hand. “Ready? Did you lock your truck? Got everything you need?”
“Yup. Let’s hit the road, boss.” He leaned back in the seat, a pleased rumble escaping his throat which did nothing to get sex off my mind. We needed a topic change, and quick.
“You said your brothers have a garage?” I asked as I left the driveway, pausing to ensure the gate locked behind us. “Why didn’t you end up working with cars? You clearly love them.”
“Eh. Can’t be a Burton kid without loving cars.” He shrugged, but the way his shoulders tensed said this might not be the casual topic I’d hoped. His tone also shifted to more distant. “My old man was the lead mechanic for a dealership up until the day he died. He made sure we all appreciated nice pieces of machinery. But opening a garage was my twin older brothers’ dream. I had this notion to see the world. Set my own course. At eighteen, enlisting seemed like a good way to do that. Went in aiming for a mechanic rate, actually, but my boot camp drill sergeant said I’d make a decent SEAL, and the rest was history. ”
“I’m sorry about your dad. I was twenty-four when I lost mine.” Our eyes met as I stopped for a red light, and a certain kinship passed between us, two members of a club no one ever wanted to join. His eyes held the same combination of nostalgia and regret mine did whenever I thought about my dad and all the time we’d lost out on.
“Twenty-one here. Sucked. Too damn soon.”
“Word.” I exhaled hard as I pulled away from the light, heading out of my neighborhood and toward Interstate Five, which would take us north to the Bay Area, where we’d catch up with Highway 101. “I miss Dad to this day. And for all his Hollywood credentials, he was a real car aficionado. Taught me everything I know about appreciating them.”
“That why you picked this car?”
“Yeah. Dad always used to joke, saying he was going to get me a silver anniversary C3 for my twenty-fifth birthday. Then he died a few months beforehand, and the loss was still too raw on that birthday. But when I turned forty, I decided life was too short not to get the car of Dad’s and my dreams. So I went all in, found the best Restomod I could, made a few custom requests, and had it shipped here from Indiana.”