Page 33 of Beyond Expectations

The tension in the car was palpable. That didn’t last long, though, as he broke the silence by announcing our arrival. He reached over to the back seat, his face only inches away from mine, and grabbed an envelope from his jacket pocket. Pulling back around, he gave me his cheeky, sexy smile and exited the car.

“Wait here,” he told me.

He walked confidently and smoothly, almost strutting into the hotel lobby. I’d been reading emails on my phone as he opened my door instead of his.

“How about you drive? Show me something I haven’t seen before.”

For a split second, I thought he was making a sexual reference, and he seemed to have read my mind based on the panty-dropping look he was giving me. But he just winked and handed me the keys.

As I got out and walked around the car, his fingertips brushed against my hip, and I gasped. I tried to keep calm but checked my mirrors before taking the wheel. We drove around town, and I was a nervous, rambling mess. A rarity in my professional field but seemingly frequent practice in the presence of the man who sat beside me. Where I clearly can’t seem to hold idle chit-chat with him without my thoughts turning sexual, I try to fill the void with every ounce of knowledge I have of this place. And to my surprise, he listened and appreciated all I had to say.

We discussed which colleges we collectively attended and how we got into our careers, and to my surprise, I realized that he has a lot more drive and passion for his work than I gave him credit for.

“We can’t drive further than here, we’ve got to walk the rest of the way,” I said as I parked the car and turned off the ignition.

“Lead the way.”

He stepped out of the car and motioned for me to lead.

We walked for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence before he spoke.

“So, this is the second time I have seen you working on cars. I will admit the first time I saw you, I was blown away, not only by your beauty but, I’ll be honest, I’d never met a female mechanic. So I’m sure you can then guess my surprise days later when you walked into our office, and I came to find out you’re a lawyer. So, what made you pursue law? Why not cars?”

I mulled his question over for a minute, carefully stepping over a broken branch that was across the path.

“I did. That is, when I was younger, all I wanted to do was become a mechanic. I remember on the weekends, Dad would watch Formula 1, and although the cars and the speed and technique of the drivers were impressive, what always fascinated me the most were the clips they showed of the mechanics in the pit stops. One year, for my birthday, I got a new helmet for my bike, and Dad specifically picked one that looked like the Stilo helmets they wear. Whenever I had to go with him to the garage, I always wore it, even if all I did was pass him a wrench.”

I expected his look to be teasing or possibly even mocking, but his small smile was warm, so I continued.

“I still thought cars were the route I would take despite my brother and cousins always saying it wasn’t for girls and how it was a man’s job. That women wouldn’t know what they’re talking about.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction as I knew that was what he most likely thought the first time he saw me. A slight blush crept across his cheeks, so I knew my assumption had been correct.

“Anyway, that was the plan until sophomore year.”

“What happened then?”

“Well, I joined the debate team, and I realized I enjoyed the art of discussing and debating. The more assignments we had and events I would partake in, the more I was drawn in. But it wasn’t until I watched a documentary on wrongful death row convictions that I started getting fascinated by the law. Especially the effects and statistics on African Americans and minority groups. It seemed to ignite a fire within me, and all I wanted to do was fight for those who couldn’t. So, I traded overalls and engines with law books and the gavel.”

After that, I was slightly out of breath and couldn’t help the pang of shyness that washed over me. I was passionate about it, but I was often met with ridicule or judgment. But as I stopped and looked into his eyes, all I saw was respect, even a hint of wonderment. Feeling a tad vulnerable, I lightened the mood by telling him the story of my grandfather, how he built the garage from the ground up, and how my father took over from him.

A family legacy.

In a way similar to his, although nowhere near the scale and magnitude. Looking over at him, I’m surprised by his eagerness to find out about me. It’s a bit off-putting.

“What about your childhood?” he questioned.

I hesitated to answer, mainly because I never knew how to answer that question. My childhood was such a mix of highs and lows. I hardly talk about it, but his earnest expression made me want to tell him everything.

“I’ve always been close with my dad. He has played such a critical role in my life. Constantly drilled into me that arduous work, determination, and integrity must be the foundation of all I do. Therefore, anything I want to do or achieve is possible.”

“And your siblings? I remember you mentioning a brother and sister.”

Smiling, I was impressed that he’d been paying attention.

“I have an older sister, Olivia. She’s married to Calvin, and they have two daughters—Amelia and Eden. And then there’s Roman, my brother. He’s ten months older than me, so everyone called us Irish twins. Growing up, the two of us were super close, unlike Olivia and I. However, as we’ve gotten older, especially since having my nieces, we’ve been closer than ever. Anyway, Roman was always great at football. He was the quarterback all through high school, then got a scholarship to college, where he became captain. He went on to get signed by the Green Bay Packers, but on his way to training, he got hit by a drunk driver, and the injuries ended his NFL career before it even began.”

I felt a lump in my throat, especially given the argument I had yesterday with Roman.

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