Page 49 of The Billionaire's Angel

Mrs. W cleared her throat. “We'll be back in a few hours,” I said. “Is anyone using the LandRover?”

“I think Abel took it to themarket.”

Damn. I needed to get my own car. It hadn't been a priority in the short time that I’d been home. Sophie interrupted, “We can take mytruck.”

That piece of crap truck in the garage was Sophie's? I'd assumed it was Abel's. Looking down at her I said, “Okay, but I'mdriving.”

She laughed and bumped her shoulder into my arm. “Are you one of those guys who never lets the womandrive?”

I took her hand in mine and pulled her through the kitchen to the mud room and garage, giving Mrs. W a quick wave as we left. “Is that a problem?” Iasked.

I hadn't really thought about it like that, though if I were being honest thenyes,I was definitely the kind of man who didn't like the woman todrive.

“I don't know,” Sophie said. “I guess it depends on what we'redriving.”

I grabbed the keys to the truck off the hook by the door. She'd already climbed into the passenger seat and was fastening her seatbelt. The truck needed a new paint job. The tires didn't look great either. It was a midsize model, not huge and not a toy, but it still looked too big forSophie.

“So you don't mind me driving your truck, but if it was something else you might fight me for the keys?” I asked, trying to figure herout.

“I used to have a Volkswagen Beetle. Vintage, not one of the new ones. No way would I have let you drive mygirl.”

I could absolutely see Sophie driving a vintage VW beetle, and at her comment, I couldn't help but laugh. “Sophie, Angel, there is no way in hell I'd fit into a vintageBeetle.”

She let out one of those giggles I loved, and something in my chest squeezed. “If you were driving a Beetle before, what made you buy this?” I asked, turning the key and wincing at the coughing rumble of the engine. It didn't sound very reliable. As I put it in gear and backed out of the garage, I thought it sounded like the transmission was going to fall out anysecond.

“I didn't buy this; Charlie lent it to me. Lucas bought her a new truck a few days after my Beetle died. I didn't want to spend money on a new car—I barely drive as it is—and Charlie didn't feel like selling this one, so she said I could borrowit.”

“Lucas bought her a new truck?” I asked. Charlie was fiercely independent, and I couldn't see her letting any man, even her fiancé, buy her atruck.

“He hated this one when she bought it,” Sophie said, “I got the impression they fought about it. A lot. And when he went behind her back and bought her a brand-new one, she decided it wasn't worth fighting over anymore. I kind of think she gave me the truck to prove to Lucas that he couldn't make her sell this one, even if he bought her areplacement.”

“That sounds like Charlie,” I said looking around the interior of thetruck.

The upholstery was faded and torn in places. The stereo looked like it hadn't worked in a decade. I was too smart to say it out loud, but I was with Lucas. This truck was a piece of shit and, if it was up to me, Sophie would never sit in itagain.

Later. I'd had enough of a battle getting her to eat lunch with me. Buying her a new car would have towait.

“What did Mrs. W say to you?” I asked, unable to contain mycuriosity.

Sophie slid me a sidelong look and said, “Not much. Just that there were exceptions to every rule and that it was smart to be cautious, but you’re a good man and worth therisk.”

My throat got unexpectedly tight. That was high praise from Mrs. W. I'd felt mostly like a mess since I'd been home. I was trying to get my bearings, to figure out how I fit into the world I'd left behind so many years ago. It was easy to forget that these people were myfamily.

They would always have my back, just as I'd have theirs. Even Aiden. Probably, Aiden most ofall.

I reached out and took Sophie's hand. “Look, I know this is complicated because you work for Amelia, but I don't want to hide. We can take this slowly, but I don't want to sneakaround.”

“And what about when it's over? We live in the same house,Gage.”

“This is our first date,” I said, annoyed. “Do we need to talk about the end already? At least give me a chance to fuck something up before you talk about breaking up withme.”

Sophie pulled her hand from mine and gripped her purse, playing with the zipper and avoiding my eyes. “Are we together, then? We haven't really talked about it, and then last night—” She cut off and looked out thewindow.

“Are you sorry we slept together?” I asked,carefully.

“No,” she said. “But I wasn't expecting it, and this is all happening toofast.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” I asked, hoping she wouldn't say yes. I'd promised myself I wouldn't push Sophie into anything she didn't want, but at the time I hadn't thought that would include lunch withme.