Page 23 of S.O.S. Billboard

“That sweet thing?” O’Shea asked, breathlessly, her Louisiana accent popping out. “Hello, beautiful.” She turned to him and tugged on his sleeve. “Tell me you have a rag top for it.”

“Yup.” Billboard nodded, pumped that O’Shea had an interest in cars that seemed to align with his. “I’ve got hard, soft, or no top at all.” Tonight, he’d opted for the hard top, even though no rain was predicted for later.

“I love it,” she gushed, running over to peer inside.

Billboard followed closely, and using his key—because remotes hadn’t been around for this model when it was manufactured—he unlocked and opened the door for her, and watched as she slid in.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe next weekend, if the weather cooperates, I’ll take you on a drive down the coast with the top off?” he suggested.

“I’d love that.” She was busy running her hands over his white upholstery with its vertical pleats.

When he closed her door and got into the driver’s side, she was full of questions.

“Is it all original? How long have you had it? Where did you get it?”

Billboard chuckled. She wouldn’t have to pull teeth to get any ofthatinformation out of him. This was his special baby.

“It’s all original except for the engine,” he chuckled. “And it’s been in my family since it was new. It belonged to my grandfather, who babied it, but my grandmother was a bit…” How did he put this? “…absent minded.” He’d actually been apprised by his two uncles that Gram had been an airhead, but Billboard’s mom never spoke that way about her mother, and Billboard had been a baby when she’d passed, so what did he know?

Billboard continued. “My grandfather was with some government agency which to this day remains unnamed, but during the year or so when the Iran hostage crisis was going on, he was absent from home, probably undercover in Iran. My grandmother took to driving the Bronco, because, my mother told me, it made her feel closer to him. But unfortunately, she ran it out of oil, and trashed the engine.”

“Oh, no!” O’Shea’s face said she was imagining it, even though it had occurred over forty-five years ago. “What happened then?”

“It got towed into the garage on our property, and once Gramps returned, he never had the heart to fix it. He felt like that might rub things into Gram’s face, the fact that she’d lunched it. So, there it sat until I inherited it.”

Billboard grinned as he turned the key and dropped his baby into gear, waiting for traffic to clear. “It was born with a 302 cubic inch engine, which was good for about 205 horsepower back in the day. But I replaced the busted engine with an after-market block; a 383 with 436 horses.”

She gasped. “That’s a lot of power for a Bronco.”

Billboard smiled and hit the gas. His tires squealed as he launched into the street.

“Eeee!” O’Shea’s excited scream made him want to crow.

Her exhilaration was the cherry on top of the sundae he’d somehow been served up today. And to think, he hadn’t even known, when the day started, that he was in the market for dessert.

CHAPTER EIGHT

O’Shea was beyond stoked.

This is what she’d been imagining for months and months. Riding around Boston with Billboard, teasing, flirting, and trading stories; opening up about things they hadn’t had a chance to share before. The only thing better would be swapping spit, but that would happen soon enough if O’Shea had anything to say about it.

Billboard might want to wait until all systems were go, and all the boxes in his head had the appropriate checkmarks, but O’Shea wasn’t exactly known for her patience.

What shewasknown for, was not being able to make up her mind when a situation presented more than one option, solution, or conclusion.

An amused gurgle worked its way up into her throat.Damn.She was having no such problem with her Billboard fixation. She wanted the man, she wanted him as soon as possible, and she wanted him any way she could have him.

And he was demanding they wait.

Bummer.

Still, she’d make the best of it until she could convince him to take a leap of faith with her. His vehicle, for instance, was a great distraction.

Yup.Billboard’s sweet wheels were a bit of icing on the anticipation-cake they were baking. The vintage Bronco was one hell of a truck, and it was pushing all her gear-head buttons. A promise of a drive down the coast soon, made her giddy… Well, maybe not as giddy as imagining herself on a dune somewhere, draped over Billboard’s body, taking a ride on him in the sand, but… It would have to be enough for starters.

O’Shea sighed.

“What was that for?” Billboard asked, zigging and zagging expertly through traffic. She loved watching his strong hands on the wheel.

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