and verify Ricky is out of earshot. "One owner, hundred eighty-three thousand miles, but the interior is stellar—"
Owen hums. "Minor bodywork, rebuild the engine and trans, give her some new paint, and she'll sell at auction easy."
I rub my hands, anticipating the work. Ricky, the current owner, inherited the Nova and has no appreciation for the vehicle's possibilities. He needs quick cash. This is an easy buy.
"What's our max?" I hate dealing with the bottom line, but Owen gets off on that aspect of the business. He keeps the books, and I build sexy engines. That's our deal. We haven't figured out what the Kelly's role is. Troublemakers?
"He seems pressed for cash. We come in low and find out how eager he is to unload it. Maybe…"
Flashes of creamy skin steal my attention from Owen and talk of finances as a jogger rounds the street corner and heads our way.
Owen whistles low. We straighten and admire the view.
She's dressed in tiny black running shorts and a matching sports bra, with a cell phone strapped around her bicep. Other than that and the running shoes on her feet, she is all bare skin and flowing dark ponytail.
A flicker of recognition hits as she draws near. Shit.
"Oh, damn, is that, Jess?" Owen asks.
I shove an elbow in his side. "Stop fucking staring at her like she's your next snack."
Owen harrumphs, and my eyes narrow to slits. "What?" His eyes scan her body. "She could be, if she wants."
Rubbing the back of my neck, I beg for patience and step into the street to gain her attention. Her pace slows.
Owen follows, nudging my shoulder as he steps at my side. "We should ask her." I gape. "You know, if she'd want to be my—"
"I swear to fucking—"
Owen's arms shoot up in surrender. "I'll go negotiate with Ricky."
"Yeah, you do that."
My lucky-he's-able-to-walk best friend slaps me on the back with a belly laugh and pivots toward the Nova and our seller, but not before tossing a wave and shouting, "Hey, gorgeous."
Jess stops, her palms wiping her cheeks before she returns Owen's wave. Her hands settle on her sides, and she continues walking. Her steps are small, hesitant, and I check over my shoulder, verifying Owen left us. Spotting his backside has me stuffing my hands in my jean pockets and walking toward her. I soak in each detail of this Jessica Womick as she nears, the woman she is today as opposed to the eighteen-year-old I spoke to last at graduation. The sex-starved guy lingers on the rise and fall of her chest as she regulates her breathing, but the detail-oriented guy notes the swing of an unused earbud hanging past her jawline and the way her thick ponytail swishes from shoulder to shoulder like a pendulum. The starved guy returns at the sight of the damp wisps of hair clinging around her face, and in a blink, we're at a car-length distance, and neither of us has spoken.
What am I? An amateur? "You stalking me?" I ask, cocking my head and affecting a severe tone.
Her lips press into a straight line, and she fidgets with the band holding her cellphone around her arm. She tugs out the earbud and holds it up. "Sorry, music," she says, her voice scratchy and unrecognizable. Clearing her throat, she surveys our surroundings. "And considering we're in my neighborhood, I should ask the same of you."
"You live around here?" We had plenty of mutual friends in high school, but I never went to her house. There's a vague memory of dropping Aubrey at her place after a Friday night party, but I was a shitty boyfriend back in the day, and I'm unsure if it was Jess's house or another cheerleader she stayed with that night.
Shuffling close, she sniffs and points. "Around the corner and two streets down on the right. Mary Ann Avenue."
I nod like an asshole who has no game and kick at the road for good measure, you know, in case she missed the first memo. Get your shit in order, Carter.
"How are you?" I manage, but my question collides with one of her own.
"What are y'all doing this side of town?"
We share a laugh, and I close the space between us another foot under the guise of keeping our conversation between us. Angling toward the driveway, I check on Ricky and Owen. "We're checking out that Nova there to buy and restore." Owen spots us watching and shoots a thumb up, which I acknowledge