Page 17 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“Of course, she’ll go,” Aunt Ruth puts in and seals the deal, shocking me even further.

Alex scoots his chair back, laying his napkin on the table. “Shall we?”

“Yes, go,” my father says.

We walk down to his car. It’s a sleek sports car, one I don’t recognize. He clicks his key fob, and the doors swing out and up like wings.

“Wow. What kind of car is this?”

“A McLaren Artura Spider. I’m a bit of a car afficionado.”

I slide onto a seat made of exquisite leather, and Alex goes around to slip behind the wheel.

The car rumbles to life, and he grins. “You like fast cars, Tori?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in one. How fast does this car go?”

“205 mph, but of course I’ll do the speed limit. I take your safety very seriously.”

“Thank you.” I glide my palm over the leather. “It’s beautiful.”

“Maybe I’ll convert you to a car lover.” He winks and rolls down the driveway.

“How many cars do you have?” I ask.

“Twenty-four.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope. I guess you could say I’m addicted.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“This is my latest one. I got it last month. Right now, I’d say it’s my favorite.” He gives me a boyish grin, and I can’t help but find him charming. “I suppose I have a problem, eh?”

“You’re a collector.”

“Well said, Tori.”

“Do you collect anything else?” I ask.

“Wine, of course. Those are my two loves. Wine and cars. Though if I had to choose, I’d say I was a car guy.”

He pulls onto the highway and shows me a sample of what the car can do, getting to speed quickly with a roar.

I can’t help laughing as the car zooms down the road. It’s freeing, and I’m not the least bit afraid.

Alex follows my directions to our destination, and we pull in the lot, turning heads.

“Wait there,” he says as he climbs out, then comes around to help me out like a true gentleman.

He holds the door for me as we enter, and soon we’re seated. We bypass the food menu for the dessert menu and study the options.

“What do you recommend, Tori?”

I close mine and set it aside, already knowing what I want. “My favorite is coconut crème. It’s the bomb.”

He grins and closes his own menu. “Sold.”

---