complications could possibly keep up. It’s just him and me and the road going on forever.
“Let’s not push our luck,” he says after a while, slowing the vehicle down. He gives me side-eye and a sly smile. “You know, I think you’d look pretty in a tiara. Might put in a call to Cartier or Sotheby’s later and see what they’ve got.”
I scrunch up my nose. “A tiara?”
“Absolutely. I’m thinking diamonds. Lots of them.”
The asshat is so testing me. “That sounds great, Beck.”
“You on top of me wearing a tiara.” He happy sighs. “Just imagine it.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Can’t help but think that tiaras have been maligned so far as modern jewelry go. I mean, anyone can buy a ring or a necklace. How passé. But a tiara, now that’s a statement, a reclamation of female power.” It’s official. He’s gone insane. “And they’re so practical, right?”
“I have no doubt I’ll wear it everywhere.”
“You’d be okay with me buying you one?” he asks, tone of voice amused. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Far be it from me to tell you how to spend your money,” I say. “So what’s your relationship with your mother like?”
Two can play at this game. He’s not grinning now. “It’s fine. We text.”
“Yeah?” And I just wait.
“She’s apparently finished steaming her private parts in the tropics and is back in New York getting ready for fashion week and working on her next coffee table book. It’s about wellness and all of the possible uses for her line of herbal waters.” He pulls over to the side of the road. “Your turn to drive.”
“Me?”
“Don’t be shy.” He opens his door before wandering around the front of the vehicle to open mine. “C’mon, Alice. Cars are meant to be driven. And I know you want to.”
“You’re right, I do.”
“That’s my girl.”
Sitting behind the steering wheel, my stomach tumbles and turns. But my blood beats hotter and faster too. All of the power at my fingertips. Or toe tips. I carefully pull back out onto the highway, even though the road has been almost deserted. What with this part of the day not being a competition, I don’t drive as fast as Beck. But I’m no slouch either, despite sticking to the speed limit. Mostly. It’s official, sports cars are damn fun. And while being a passenger in one was great, sitting in the driver’s seat is about a billion times better. The sensation of hugging the corner and accelerating once we hit a straight stretch of road. It’s over way too soon as we swap back in Estes Park so I can concentrate on the view.
“Being serious this time,” he says. “I’m buying a jet.”
“The Elliot Corp. ones won’t do?”
“A lot of people use those. I think for convenience sake we need our own for work and play.”
“Need” is a strong word. But again, it’s his call. “Okay,” I say.
“You’re being so agreeable. It turns me on.”
“Everything turns you on today.” I smile and turn in my seat to watch him. No doubt the view outside is pretty, but the one inside the car is a singular delight. It feels like one of those special moments. The type you never want to forget.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Watching you.”
“Hmm.” He glances at me, a hint of color staining his cheeks. Oh my God, Beck is blushing. He is the cutest, kindest, and craziest.
My throat goes tight with some emotion I don’t want to name. “You must be used to people looking at you.”
“Not like you do.”
“How do I look at you?”
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. “Let’s discuss it another time when I’m not meant to be concentrating on driving.”
How curious. “Okay.”
“You’re still staring. Ask me another question. Go on.”
I think fast. “How are you dealing with your dad being gone?”
Beck frowns.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. How you grieve is your own choice, of course.”
“It’s fine. I miss him.” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Me leaving after that argument…the lack of resolution and everything…I guess it’s always going to be a thing. But as I’ve mentioned before, we never had a great relationship. And odds were, it was never going to improve. He was always so big on trying to control people, yet none of his offspring are what you’d call meek or biddable. It’s funny, really.”
I keep my mouth shut, letting him speak.
“Then I feel guilty because I’m honestly kind of glad he’s not here to give Emma shit about the pregnancy among other things.”