Page 116 of Just for Tonight

“No,” Mike says. “It’s a big step from Rupert’s tractor to that car.”

“Rupert?” Jake echoes.

“We’re buying his farm.”

“Oh, that Rupert.” Jake says easily, his gaze sliding to mine.

I smile despite myself. As if there are that many Ruperts in the vicinity.

Sierra is oblivious to any subtext. “But how will I know unless I try?’

“No,” Mike repeats. “You need to conquer the Jetta before you drive anyone’s car.”

“He won’t even let me drive his truck yet,” Sierra informs Jake who nods solemnly.

“It takes time to learn to drive. And my car has a manual transmission. Do you know how to drive a stick?”

“The tractor has a stick.”

Jake looks at Mike.

“It’s older than both of us,” he says. “Three speed transmission. It’ll probably outlast all of us.”

“And I can drive it.”

Mike nods and smiles at Sierra. “She can. She’s good at it, actually.”

“A natural,” Sierra says. “That’s what Rupert said.”

“Who has a Jetta?” Jake asks.

“Also Rupert’s. Also ancient.” Mike takes another hors d’oeuvre from the platter and Sierra takes the hint, quickly resuming her duties. “I figured it would be a good stepping stone. He’s left it parked behind the barn. It doesn’t even have plates anymore.”

“But it has gas in it,” Sierra informs Jake. “Rupert told me that he left it ready for me to try. The keys are in the kitchen.” She sighs heavily. “But Mike hasn’t had time to give me a lesson.”

“Four speed?” Jake asks Mike.

“Five. Apparently, it really moves.”

“Please, Uncle Jake? Will you let me drive your car? I could tell everyone at school about it next week and it would be the best.” She smiles at Jake, clearly trying to influence him with charm.

“I’ve said no,” Mike begins, but Jake gives me a hard look, then raises a hand.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “I will come to the farm, wherever it is, and give you a driving lesson on the Jetta. And if you pay attention, and if you ace it, I might let you drive my car just a little.”

“Uncle Jake, you rock!” Sierra shouts. Both Mike and I reach for the tray, guessing that she’s going to impulsively hug Jake, but Jake gives her a look.

“I do not hug,” he says firmly.

“Then you should learn,” Sierra replies just as firmly, hands off the tray to her dad and gives an astonished Jake a tight hug. She steps back and reclaims the tray. “All of you guys need to work on your hugs,” she mutters then presents the tray to me. “It’s like they think everyone has a disease.”

These hors d’oeuvres are grilled shrimp, perched on a bit of puff pastry with some kind of filling beneath them, a spike of chive and a drop of red sauce. I take one, just because, and catch Jake watching me eat it.

Then his gaze slides away, leaving me feeling like the sun has moved behind a cloud.

“Maybe we should head out,” he murmurs to Mike and I guess they’ve agreed that their attendance will end with drinks.

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