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“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m trying to figure that out,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-two
When they got to Chase’s Camaro, he pulled his keys out. “You want to drive?”
He remembered her driving his car and getting caught speeding by the cops. The memory almost brought a smile to his lips.
“That’s okay,” she said and jumped into the car without opening the door.
And she landed on a bag in the front seat.
She pulled it out from under her and when she did a twelve-pack of hot dogs fell out.
“What’s this?” she asked as he got behind the wheel.
“Oh, in case we meet up with trouble,” he said.
“What?”
He ignored her question. “Do you mind the top down or are you worried about your hair?” When she didn’t answer he added, “I still have some hair things in my glove compartment.”
She made a face and dropped the hot dogs on the floorboard. “I don’t care.”
He slid the keys in the ignition, sat back in the seat a bit, then looked at her. “Yes, you do.”
“Do what?” she asked.
“You care. And I don’t mean about your hair.” He held up his hand, and before she could argue, he continued, “I know, I heard everything you said last night. About you not thinking this is real, or that it’s not love. But after I left, I realized what else you said.”
Her brows pulled together. “What else did I say?”
He reached between the seats and got his sunglasses. Slipping them on, he glanced at her. “How did you put it? Oh, yeah: the chills, the thrills. Then there was something about you being obsessed with me.”
He slid the glasses down his nose, and looked at her over the rims.
Her wide eyes and slacked mouth told him she was searching for a comeback but couldn’t find one. Shocking—Della always had a wisecrack. He loved that about her.
