Page 55 of Running to You

The men both climbed out, and Sam pushed the seat up. He reached to help her. “Sorry you got stuck back there. Still got your legs?”

She slipped her hand into his. “My legs and I survived.”

Sam’s gaze flicked down as she swung them out of the car and stood. He licked his lips. The slightest tinge of pink colored his cheeks, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

At least she knew the sparks between them weren’t all being generated on her side.

Colton came around. He was taller than Eliza remembered, though not as tall as Sam, and he didn’t have Sam’s broad shoulders. He gave her a quick side hug. “It sounds like I should be offering you a job. We’ll talk when you get back. Whenever…whatever this is has passed.”

“All right.” She would need a job, eventually. Probably. Assuming…well, a lot of things. “Thanks for the ride. And the car.”

“For you, anytime.” He shifted to Sam. “Use it as long as you want. And the cottage. It’s just sitting empty.”

Sam gave his friend a back-slapping hug. “I appreciate this.”

“You’d do it for me.”

“In a heartbeat.” He backed away. “We’ll be in touch.”

Sam held the passenger door for her, and she settled into the butter-soft leather seat.

After thanking Colton one more time, Sam sat beside her and shifted into gear. “Guy’s an overgrown toddler.”

“But he’s your best friend.”

He hit the gas and maneuvered through the parking lot at a much more reasonable speed. “That he is, though I rarely have to endure his driving.” He flicked the windshield wipers on as the first spattering of rain fell. “His childhood dream was to be a racecar driver.”

“Exciting, those races.” She put false enthusiasm into her voice. “Look, he’s making a left turn!”

Sam chuckled.

“I appreciate that he’s letting us use this…what is it?”

“Porsche 911.”

“It isn’t exactly incognito.”

“The other option was a Hummer.”

She laughed. “Real low-key kind of fellow.”

“You picked right up on that, savvy girl that you are. Don’t worry about the car. We weren’t followed.”

“So we’re safe, for now.”

He nodded. A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “So…gold and silver?”

“Apparently.”

“You think you’ve been trading, or just learning about it?”

Based on the conversation they’d had—the one that had felt so natural to her that she hadn’t realized how strange it was—she said, “I’ve been trading. I’m sure of it.”

“Hmm.” He stopped at a light. “Another…clue.”

“Suddenly, you’re less James Bond and more Jacques Clouseau.”

“‘The Pink Panther’?” He smacked his chest as if she’d wounded him. “At least give me Sherlock Holmes.”