Page 11 of The Challenger

My question is a throwaway because I’d read about his tumultuous relationship with Sofia, a pretty Mexican American woman he was engaged to for over a year. They split up eighteen months ago. Digging around online for the reasons why made me feel dirty.

“Madison told me you were seeing someone,” he says, “but I doubt you’d be calling me if that was true.”

“She’s a hot bag of lies, that one.”

He bursts out laughing, and the sweet sound is one I could listen to for days. “Tell me about it,” he says. “I swear I never asked for her number. I’m not into blondes. But I am a sucker for curls.”

I had a suspicion his earlier cockiness was the practical armor we all carry around. But the softer, gentler Chavez still affects me the same way. Something is doing the jitterbug in my belly.He was also the first guy in forever who, when I told him my name, didn’t follow up with,Isn’t Flynn a boy’s name?And I’m digging his Miss Flynn schtick. It makes me feel dignified.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I’m stoked you called. You free for dinner tonight?”

“Tonight?” I’m so surprised, it just slips out.

“Yeah. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

My shoulders tense, yet at the same time, I feel something inside me give a little. His forthrightness is refreshing, but there are unwritten rules in my life and guarding my privacy is number one. I registered my house under a false name because in LA, anyone can Google your name andboom, your address pops up. Chavez is someone I probably do not have to worry about, but I hate having to worry about it at all.

"But if you’re one of those women who eats a carrot for dinner," he adds, “we’re probably not going to get married after all.”

His out-of-nowhere joke makes me laugh, and it feels damn good to laugh. Chavez makes me feel all sorts of long, lost things. And my stomach is as empty as my social calendar.

“Sure,” I say. “Where do you want to meet?”

“That’s not how it works. This is a date. I’m picking you up.”

I bite back a smile. A date? It sounds so official. “I’m in Hancock Park. If that’s not convenient…”

“Nothing’s convenient in LA,” he says. “That’s why we’re all in cars. I’ll see you at eight and dress up in something nice, please. I’m not into fugly or Birkenstocks.”

“What are you going to wear?” I ask, throwing it back at him.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like what you see.”

Like there is any doubt of that.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “Eight means eight, so don’t make me wait. I hate that shit.”

ChapterFive

At 7:55 p.m.,Chavez and his Ferrari California rumble into the neighborhood like a bat out of hell. I knew he would be early, and I’m waiting at the head of the driveway, chill in the air be damned. My black jersey cocktail dress is first-date approved—sexy, but without body parts spilling out everywhere. (Not that I have body parts to spill.) The ring of feathers on each wrist might be overkill, but if I’ve learned anything from Vandana, it’s safer to be over-dressed.

Chavez peels into my driveway with his high beams flashing, cuts the engine, and steps out to admire me with a full head-to-toe.

“Wow,” he says. “You look amazing.”

I’ve done a complete one-eighty from this morning, with ringlets in loose, wild mode and enough bronzer to fool anyone into believing I’d just arrived home from Hawaii instead of Cleveland. And he kept his end of the bargain up, too. His beautifully cut dress pants and serious thread-count shirt hug him in all the right places. He had that Prince almost-facial-hair thing going on earlier, and I have to say, I prefer his face freshly shaven.

“Thanks,” I say. “You clean up pretty nice, too.”

“You want to grab a jacket?” he asks. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m good. Ferraris have heated seats, right?”

I will suffer through goosebumps as any vain woman would to avoid spoiling the effect of my dress. Besides, I will be wearing far less if tonight goes as planned.

“It sure does, mamacita. And I hope you like Mexican food. I know the owners of Heroica, and they could swing us a table this late in the game.”

---