Page 46 of Ghost

I cleared my throat and nodded toward the phone.

Her eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Take a look at the picture.”

She looked at the phone. “The screen’s black.”

“Zero-nine-one-seven,” I said, giving her the unlock code.

She unlocked the phone and swiped her thumb over the screen. When she saw the photo, her eyes went wide.

“Holy F-ing Moses” she screeched. “It’s her!”

“Exact reproduction,” I said with a smile. “Built it from the ground up with my bare hands.”

She took another look. “Oh. My God.”

“Four-link suspension, a stroked four-twenty-eight, six-speed, roll cage, the whole enchilada. Almost nine hundred horsepower. Drives like a dream.”

“You drive it?” she gasped.

“Every chance I get.”

“Gone in Sixty Seconds was my dad’s all-time favorite movie,” she said excitedly. “I was thirteen when he took me to see it. He bought in on VHS when it came out. We wore out the tape, watching it. Then, he got a DVD. I’ve seen that movie a hundred times.”

I grinned. “The guys I ride with and I went to see it when we were fourteen. That movie got me interested in cars. I wasn’t old enough to drive at the time, but I told myself while I watched the movie that one day I would have that car. Took me almost eighteen years to get it built, but there it is.”

She stared at the phone’s screen. “Can I go for a ride in it?”

“You can drive it.”

Her mouth flopped open. “You’ll let me drive it?”

“Sure.”

She lurched across table and gave me a kiss.

The clank of plates being against the end of the table caused us to break the embrace. Before Abby was back in her seat, George shot her a glare. “Public displays of affection are frowned upon. It makes the customers uneasy.”

Abby cleared the screen on my phone, turned it to face George, and cocked an eyebrow. “He’s letting me drive this. That’s why I gave him a kiss.”

George looked the picture. His eyes shot from the phone to me. “That’s yours?”

“Built it with my own two hands,” I said proudly.

He reached for the phone, and then hesitated. “May I?”

“Sure.”

He admired the photo for a moment, and then handed it to me with reluctance. “I’ve got a sixty-three Mercury Marauder fastback I’ve been working on for years. One of these days, I’ll have that ole girl done.”

“I’m handy with a wrench,” I said. “Might be able to teach you a few tricks when it comes to horsepower, too.”

He waved his hand toward the restaurant. “All the men I know are handy with a rifle, and that’s about it. Tough to find anyone these days that knows how to build an engine. That’s what I’m down to. Motor and transmission.”

“A weekend’s work,” I said.

He chuckled. “For you, maybe.”