Page 155 of One Touch

“Meet-cute?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, darlin’. It’s just a fancy romance term. Awfully complicated. It’s when the characters meet. And it’s cute.”

“Yep, too technical for me,” Ethan joked.

As Marge handed the signed book back, Ethan thanked her and pulled me over to one side. Even feeling his hand take mine felt as electric as that first time he’d touched me. His strong, rough hands. Knowing what they could do to me—what theyhadbeen doing to me, every night since we’d come back from New York.

“I’m taking Ava for a soda while you finish up. Meet us outside after the signing.” He squeezed my hand, sending shivers down my spine. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

My mind raced with possibilities as I watched him and Ava leave. She turned and waved at me, with a mysterious smile. What on earth was going on?

The moment the last customer filed out, I practically sprinted for the door, my heart pounding with anticipation.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was the Vladmobile, but not as I knew it.

Gone was the gaudy, gothic-font decal that had once adorned its hood. In its place stood a gleaming masterpiece of vintage Americana, reimagined with a touch of Ethan’s mechanical genius and a whole lot of love.

The car’s body had been repainted in a deep, burnt orange that seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. Chrome accents sparkled along the bumpers and around the windows, meticulously polished to a mirror shine. The once-dented hood now curved smoothly, its surface unmarred and perfect.

But it was the little details that truly took my breath away. On the driver’s door, in elegant, hand-painted script, was my name: “Lily.” My heart swelled at the sight.

“You like the color?” asked Ethan nervously. “I literally held color palettes up to your hair a couple of weeks ago, while you were sleeping, trying to match it.”

I laughed. “I love it. Is it big-headed of me to say that?”

Ethan chuckled, opening up the car door. “Take a look inside.”

The interior was a work of art, too. The seats had been reupholstered in buttery soft, cream-colored leather that looked impossibly inviting. The dashboard gleamed with restored vintage gauges and a retro-styled radio that I strongly suspected housed modern technology behind its chrome facade.

As I circled the car in awe, I noticed a small decal on the rear window—a stack of books with a wrench leaning against them, encased together inside a heart.

“So,” Ethan said, eyes piercing mine, “what do you think?”

I turned to him, tears welling in my eyes. “Ethan, it’s . . . it’s perfect. I had no idea you were doing it! I can’t believe you did all this. When did you find the time?”

He shrugged, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “I had some help. Ava kept me company reading books to me while I worked.”

“That’s awesome, Ava!”

Ethan dangled the keys in front of me. “Want to take her for a spin?”

I grinned, snatching the keys from his hand. “You bet I do. But first . . .” I pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss, pouring all my gratitude and love into it.

“Ew, gross!” Ava said.

“Sorry,” I said, “blame your father for being so damn perfect.”

“A perfect pig!” Ava said, chuckling.

Ethan oinked a couple of times, then we bundled into the car.

“I’ve got some good news, too,” Ethan said as we put on our seatbelts. “Today I finally found a buyer for the Spyder!”

“That’s amazing!”

“Wait,” Ava said, “does that mean—”

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