Page 28 of Fumbled Beginning

“So, this is your place, huh?”

I made a decent income and lived in a good area, but it was nothing like his massive estate or my brother’s penthouse. Suddenly, I was feeling self-conscious. “I know it’s small, but it’s only me, and it does what I need it to do.”

“Maybe next time you can give me the full tour.”

“You mean all eleven hundred square feet of it, sure.”

He held his arm out for me to loop mine in his. “Ready?”

“If we don’t leave now, I might back out,” I teased, but I knew before we even left my condo that this date would be the best date I ever had. Right off the bat, it felt different. Maybe because we already knew each other, there would be no forced conversation or random questions. Or perhaps it was the intense chemistry I could feel deep in my bones; whatever it was had me smiling all the way out the door.

JP reached for my hand, which I thought was sweet, and led me to the parking lot. “Is Oakley going to be okay if you’re gone for a while?”

“Yeah, my neighbor Tilly is going to let him out later. She is a nosy little old lady who loves to help take care of him.”

“Don’t you mean ‘lonely’ little old lady?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “If you look over your shoulder, up to the third-floor balcony just to the right of the lamppost, you’ll see her peeking through the blinds.”

JP turned his head and chuckled. “What’s her story?”

“She and her husband, Hank, used to run a biker bar outside of Nashville. When Hank passed away, she sold the business and moved to be closer to her son and grandkids.”

“A biker bar, huh? That’s pretty badass.”

“Tilly is a character, that’s for sure.” I was surprised when we stopped at a sporty-looking white car. “Where is your truck?”

“Home.” He opened the door, and I hopped in and buckled my seat belt. The black seats were soft, almost like suede.

“How many cars do you own?” I asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

He shrugged. “A few.”

That was vague. Was he afraid he would come across as a show-off? “What kind of car is this?”

“Dodge Hellcat.” He started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

“I don’t know much about sports cars,” I said, glancing around at the roomy interior. “But I’m surprised by how much space is in this car. I could probably fit the contents of my walk-in closet in here.”

He laughed. “Technically, it’s considered a muscle car.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course it is.”

He pushed his foot down on the accelerator; my body jolted back against the seat. “It has great horsepower and handles better than you’d expect.”

“I can see that,” I said, keeping my hand on the dashboard. “We don’t need to set any speed records, so get your lead foot under control.”

“You’ve got to live a little, Rylee.” He smirked but thankfully slowed down.

“You’re right. I do, so stop trying to kill me,” I said, flopping back in my seat once I was convinced he was slowing down.

He laughed. “I can’t wait to take you out on my bike for the first time.”

I winced. “You’re not talking about a ten-speed bicycle, are you?”

He smirked. “I haven’t had one of those since high school.” He took one hand off the steering wheel and rubbed it along his thigh. “Lots of memories on that ten-speed though.”

“I probably don’t want to know.” I shook my head and picked up his phone from the cup holder. “Let’s see what kind of music you have on here.” I squinted at the screen, wishing I had brought my glasses. “I see you like a little bit of everything.”

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