Page 136 of Smooth Sailing

“Mandy?”

“The woman who lasted a coupla months.”

“Ah.”

“You ready to go?” he asked.

Guess we weren’t talking about that anymore.

“I need to tie this bow,” I answered.

He looked to the bottle. “Why?”

Excellent question.

I pulled the ribbon off and grasped the bottle.

“Ready to go,” I told him.

He smiled right before he frowned.

I understood his frown when he said, “Probably need to take your fuckin’ car.”

I burst out laughing.

When I was done, I said, “I think we just need to be us for Dad. We can take your bike.”

“It fucks me to say this, and I’ll deny that I did until my dying breath, but I didn’t do shit to my hair to have it fucked up on a bike ride to your dad’s.”

I burst out laughing again.

And boy, one could say it warmed many parts of me, mostly around my heart, that it was clear he wanted to make a good impression on my father.

Hugger grabbed my hand, led me to my tote, let go of my hand and gave me the tote. I threw it over my shoulder. He claimed my hand again, and we walked out.

“I’m drivin’,” he said when we were in the elevator going down.

After he made that declaration, before I knew what he was about, he reached and pulled the keys out of my fingers. I’d dug them out of my tote in order to fob us to the parking level.

“You don’t know where Dad lives,” I stated the obvious.

“You got a mouth. You can direct me,” he returned.

“Women have been driving since there’ve been cars,” I pointed out.

“I know,” he said as the doors opened.

He said no more.

He simply grabbed my hand again and pulled me out.

“Can you explain then why I’m apparently not driving my own car?” I asked after he pushed through the vestibule doors and led us into the garage.

He stopped and looked down at me. Since we were attached, I stopped too and looked up at him.

“No. Got absolutely no rational explanation for that.”

Well, that was honest.

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