Page 99 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

Lucy stared into space. Or was she staring at Ricky? He had been making nice with Ethel lately. Jealousy could ignite. “If he loves you,” she told her dragon, “he’ll stay faithful.”

Jack was the prime example of unfaltering love.

She decimated the box and read Jack’s note.

Find the item responsible for our meeting.

Man, he needed to make these clues harder. Paper tucked into her pocket, she zipped through the house, her socked feet sliding out from under her as she careened around a corner. Her T-shirt—which was dirty from greasy cars—earned another sweat stain. She should pause and jump in the shower, change at least, but she could never contain her excitement with Jack, and he never complained about her attire.

She bolted for the three-car garage and flung the door open. She felt around for the wall switch. Lights flared. Clementine’s heart skipped a beat.

Jack was in the garage, dressed in his work suit, his hip propped on a stunning wreck of an automobile. One she’d never seen before.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

She opened her mouth and closed it, perfecting her impression of a startled goldfish. “This can’t be for me.”

“It’s certainly not for me.”

“But it’s too much.”

“It’s a hunk of junk.”

The Pontiac Firebird was dented, more rust than paint covering its body, and a couple windows were shattered. It was the type of car you’d find abandoned during a Zombie Apocalypse.

“It’s too much,” she said again. A total masterpiece from the early seventies, every inch of it begging Clementine to restore its former glory. “You have to stop buying me things.”

“You have to stop telling me how to spend my money. Not that you have to worry. This large garbage can didn’t break the bank.”

He was incorrigible. And sexy as hell with his dress shirt’s top few buttons undone. She licked her lips, but the car pulled her attention. “Can I see the inside?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He waved his hand toward the driver’s door, and his smirk wavered. He swallowed several times, each drag of his Adam’s apple faster. Was that sweat beading on his upper lip?

“If you put a snake in there,” she said, “I’ll time it so a rat drops from the ceiling while we’re having sex.”

The corner of his lips kicked back up. “That threat never gets old.”

“Neither does my cat burglar nickname.”

They both enjoyed this suggestion from her therapist, to treat the past lightly whenever possible, giving it less power to hurt them. Although it worked for them both, it didn’t explain why Jack was acting like a weird sneak.

* * *

If Jack had thought this scavenger hunt through properly, he’d be wearing running shorts and a T-shirt, not a full suit. His sweat-a-thon had begun the second Clementine had pulled up to the house. If she didn’t get in this trash-heap of a car soon, he was liable to combust.

“Have I ever led you astray, love?”

She chewed her lip, still eyeing him with distrust. “There was that time I dropped off Blue for Imelda and you let me stand in the rain.”

He chuckled and dragged a hand through his hair. “You love bringing that up.”

And he loved her teasing. He couldn’t imagine a day where she didn’t make a crack about his jumpsuit collection or call him an idiot, mischief in her cinnamon eyes. The nights she lazily draped her leg over his while falling asleep were his favorite. The handcuffs and dirty packages she sent him at work were a close second, always with cheeky notes like: In case you’re in a frisky mood.

He was always in a Clementine mood.

And she wasn’t ready to relent. “Just saying, most gentlemen would offer shelter, basic human kindness, when the weather turned. Who knows what kind of indecent thing you’ve stored in the car.”

“Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”