“Just trying this small talk I’ve heard so much about,” I teased.
I caught a whisper of a smile on her lips. “Not all of us can afford BMWs, Wyatt.”
“Pssh! A BMW? It’s like you don’t know me at all, Penny Layne,” I teased, knocking my shoulder into hers to deepen her smile.
“Okay, smart guy, what do you drive?”
“An American classic, of course.”
“Of course.”
I beat Layne to the exit and opened the door to the parking lot. I couldn’t help picking up my pace, more than a bit excited to show off my baby.
“This is Scarlet,” I announced proudly as we approached my 1969 Firebird Coupe. “Three-hundred and fifty horses of pure American muscle under the hood,” I said, patting the shiny red paint job affectionately.
“She’s beautiful,” Layne said, playing along.
“Thank you.”
I walked to the passenger side and used my key to unlock the door for her, wondering if the invention of automatic locks were to blame for such gentlemanly acts disappearing.
“Thanks,” Layne said, ready to slide into the supple leather interior.
I put a hand on her waist to stop her. “Not so fast. You have to agree to the rules first.”
“There are rules?”
“No eating or drinking in the car, that includes chewing gum,” I added sternly, remembering the time I’d taken Nicole Fraser to the movies and had to drive home in my underwear when her obnoxious neighbor dumped soda all over me because he was secretly in love with her. I’d been in such a foul mood I hadn’t noticed I’d stepped in gum and got it all over my poor baby’s floor mat.
“Reasonable,” Layne offered.
“And no one touches the radio but me.”
She smirked. “I can live with that.”
I opened the door wide and stepped back. “Then your chariot awaits.”
She rolled her eyes, but a hint of her smile was still there.
Chapter Fifteen
Layne
“So, where do you live?” Wyatt asked, pulling me from my reverie.
I’d been fully absorbed in the warmth and comfort of Scarlet’s plush leather interior. I never fancied myself a car girl, but this wasn’t really a car, it was a work of art.
Wyatt kept it in immaculate condition and despite it being a classic, Scarlet wrapped me in her intoxicating mixture of new car smell with a hint of leather. That combination along with the sweet sounds of Jim Morrison serenading me from the radio had lulled me into a dreamlike state.
But of course, I’d been rudely ripped from my daydream with thoughts of Wyatt seeing my house.
I looked around, quickly getting my bearings. We were just approaching Main Street. “Um, you can just drop me off here.”
Wyatt glanced at me quickly. His crooked smile seemed to say he thought I was joking.
“N-no, really,” I stammered. “Just drop me at the coffee shop. I want to grab a cup.”
He gave me another odd sideways glance. “I can stop for a coffee if you’d like.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to hold you up.”
He slowed the car and eased it to the curb by the coffee shop, putting it in park. Wyatt slung a lazy arm over the back of my seat, hitting me with the full weight of his gorgeous green eyes. “What’s going on, Penny Layne? Embarrassed to bring the riffraff home?” His dark eyebrows wagged playfully.
I huffed a laugh. “No, I’m sure my mom would love you.”
He gasped. “She’s not a member of the I Hate Wyatt Nash Club?”
“Shut up,” I teased. “I just feel like a latte and a walk.”
He watched me like he could sense the lie. Why had I said latte? I actually hated coffee. I much preferred tea. And I couldn’t resist a good scone. I realized that probably made me sound more British than Wyatt, despite him being the one with the accent.
I met his intense gaze hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff. The coffee shop had started out as an excuse to avoid him seeing my house, but now that I was thinking about scones, I truly did like the idea of stopping in.
“So, what, you expect me just to drop you off here at night and let you walk home?”
“It’s not a big deal. I like walking. It’s when I do some of my best songwriting.”
He considered it, then shook his head. “Nope. It’s late and it’s cold. If something happens to you, I’ll never be able to appeal for the disbandment of the I