her purse, extracted her phone, and waved it. “There’s an app with locations for a bunch of the media-savvy trucksters. How do you feel about seafood?”
“If it’s your favorite, let’s do it!”
Tapping and scrolling, she quickly found the Coastal Cravers truck she chased around town. “Seafood stuffed wontons with lobster sauce? Mini crab cakes with remoulade sauce? Saffron mussels? If you prefer simple, they also do beer-battered fish and chips.”
“Where is it? Nearby or are we driving?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and studied the map. “It’s across town and looks like there’s a twenty-minute wait.”
“Are you gonna make it that long?”
He did not wait for her answer and whipped open the center console. “What do you want?” he asked. “Granola bar? Peanut butter crackers? Cheese Nips?”
Peering into the storage space, she was startled to find it overflowing with snacks and weirdness. There was a pair of gardening gloves, a whistle on a lanyard, and a man’s tie rolled into a ball. Her eyes darted around the interior of the car. She assumed it was a rental since he was in town on business, but the contents of the console suggested otherwise.
“The crackers, please,” she murmured.
He tore the pack open and handed it off. Before she could ask, he started talking.
“A few years back, I had an unfortunate incident involving a rental car. There may or may not have been some street racing and a camera crew,” he drawled with cocky-infused charm. “And if legend matters, I crossed the finish line first going in reverse.”
She snorted with laughter and nearly choked on the dry crackers when his descriptive words triggered a movie scene in her head. He calmly ripped the cap off a bottle of water from the console and patted her on the back.
“All of the big names banned me. Avis, Enterprise.” He shrugged. “I think Hertz keeps my picture by the cash register. It’s easier for me to beg, borrow, or steal than it is to rent.”
Intrigued, she followed the flimsy thread, and asked, “So you’re here on business, but you know people in Santa Barbara? Well enough to borrow a car.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Tension squeezed her core. What was the thing to do? How should she handle this first name-only situation she found herself in? He was Arnie from New York City, and he was here on business. Was she being crazy stupid for hanging out with him? For blithely getting in a car without any situational awareness consideration? Her brother, Reed, would be furious with her. Ugh.
“The car belongs to my grandfather. He lives nearby in Montecito and is happy to lend me his smug alert vehicle when I’m here.”
“Smug alert vehicle?”
“That’s code for an environmentally responsible electric car. Granddad enjoys his smug.”
After a pause, he asked, “So where are we off to? Do you have a location? This baby almost drives itself, so all I have to do is enter the address and sit back.”
They rolled out in search of food and got on the road. Arnie drove with ease and confidence—pretty much like he did nearly everything else. She drifted off in her head while studying his hands. They were big, and she assumed, strong. In place of the fancy tech watch he insisted came from a Target store, today he was sporting a classic round face on a black leather strap. There was a splotch of yellow paint on his right wrist in a spot only she could see unless he raised his arm and looked at the underside. The colored blot made him very, very real.
“You’re unusually quiet, Summer. Is something bothering you?”
Oh, shit! Could he read her mind or sense her thoughts? She sat straighter and pushed her hair behind her ears.
“I’m reviewing every lesson of the stranger danger course I learned in school.” The comment was supposed to be dry—maybe a tad on the droll side—signifying she wasn’t a pushover and did, in fact, have a brain.
“Smart girl,” he hooted. “I like your style.” He glanced at her and grinned. “You’re a modern-day blonde. The jokes are still there, but now you’re the one dictating them.”
“I knew this would get complicated,” she laughingly replied. “The blond energy alone is worth the price of admission. Can I ask a question?”
“Sure.” He chuckled. “Go right ahead.”
“Why is the console full of snacks?”
He put on the turn signal and carefully navigated a left turn. “True confession. I have an unfortunate hard-on for vending machines. I see one, and it’s