Page 27 of Replay

“Thanks, man. Want an auto or selfie or something?”

The man’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Sorry to hear you’re injured.”

Katie stood back till I had her take the photo with the guy’s phone. Then he rolled away and it was just the two of us.

“I’ve never ridden in a Mercedes before,” Katie said. “That’s not what you have, is it? I’d be petrified to drive it in Toronto.”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve got a Ford.”

Katie looked around the lot, practically empty at this point. Her gaze stalled on the yellow Mustang. “Is that?—?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a freakin’ Mustang.”

“I know.”

“I can’t drive that.”

“Well I sure as hell can’t.” What were we going to do if neither of us could drive?

She turned to face me and her shoulders dropped. “Right, sorry. I forgot to ask how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly, a little tired.”

Her gaze ran down my body, landing on the knee that wasn’t taking any weight. “And you probably need to rest that. Okay, I’ll do my best but I can’t pay for repairs if I hit something. I haven’t driven in Toronto yet.”

I shrugged. “It’s just a car. I have insurance.”

Inside, I was cringing. The car was my baby. I kept her detailed and parked in the back of parking lots to prevent dings. But Katie was already freaking out and I wanted to calm her down. And as much as I loved my car, Katie was more important.

I passed her the keys. “Would you bring it over? Armpits are getting sore with these crutches.” I really wanted to get off my feet. Foot.

She stared at the keys, and then the car.

I nudged her leg with one crutch. “It’s not throwing the ring into Mount Doom.”

She rolled her eyes but looked a little less tense. “Okay, let’s hope for the best.”

I watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her ass, the swing of her hair and the way she hitched up her book bag.

Yeah, my baby might get a ding, but totally worth it.

Chapter 10

My New Friend

Katie

You can do this, I told myself. It was just a car.

I was fine with driving a stick. I’d learned on one and had been driving a standard back home before I’d moved six weeks ago. I just hadn’t driven since then, and traffic here was different than I was used to—more congested, more bus and bike lanes, and frantic drivers. Plus, the little Ford Focus I drove was vastly different in power than this.

I threw my bag in the back seat and drew a long breath before settling in the driver’s seat. Then I couldn’t get a key to pop out of the fob Josh had given me. What the hell?

“Just push the button while you’re pumping the brake,” he yelled at me from where he was standing by the doors.

I did, and the engine rumbled, loud and powerful. Another breath, before I pulled the door shut and put her in gear. A lurch. I hadn’t removed the parking brake. Shit.

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