“Sounds good, but if you change your mind?—”
“No!” She inhaled. “I mean, no, I won’t be changing my mind.”
I gently grabbed the exploding suitcase and slid it into the back seat as she hopped into the front. I tried to shut the door for her, but she narrowed her eyes and pulled it closed on her own. Freaked her out. Yes, I’d freaked her out. Score for me.
Once I cranked up the truck, I got a glimpse of those damn fishing boots again, and curiosity was murdering the cat.
“I have to ask, what’s up with the swamp boots?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sure you’re unaware, but these boots are all over the Paris runway right now.”
“You have got to be shitting me.”
“Nope, you probably don’t keep up on those things. But I assure you, this spring, they’ll beeverywhere.” She looked out the window.
“And the neon overalls and tie-dye?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, this summer is going to be super colorful. I’m normally ahead of the curve on these things, so rest assured, I am fucking on trend.” Her hand covered her mouth. “Oops, I apologize for the cursing. My bad.”
“No, I love swearing.” I dug how her eyes glimmered when she smiled. “You know, studies have shown that intelligent people swear more than stupid motherfuckers.”
She burst out laughing. A great laugh.
“A family member of mine says you swear if you care.”
“That should be on a T-shirt!” She slapped my arm with the back of her hand. “I love that. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I took a drink of my water.
“What’s it like to be an Uber-driving gigolo?”
Water shot out my nose, causing her to scream with laughter.
“OMG, are you okay?” She reached into her pocket. “I think I have a tissue.” Suddenly, out of her clown pocket came a bright green pair of big old panties. Before I could blink twice, she whipped them right out the window. “Nope, I don’t have a tissue.” She looked straight ahead.
“Did you just throw undies out the window?”
“Uh, no. That’s ridiculous.” She kept her eyes forward. “You sound crazy.”
“But I saw green?—”
“You saw nothing.” She loudly cleared her throat. “So, tell me, do you work as a solo gigolo, or do you have a posse who targets the airport?”
I glanced to the right to find her eyes locked on me, on the edge of her seat.
I nodded. “Oh, I work alone, always.”
She nodded and narrowed her eyes. “I see.”
We were riding through town when I heard clapping hands. “I see a coffee shop. Thank God, there’s coffee here.”
“You thought there was no coffee in Montana?”
She laughed. “I got the feeling my dad lived out in the boonies, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Can we stop really quick?”
“Sure.”
Her smile faded. “If we stop, can you shut off the meter? I don’t want my dad’s fiancé to have to pay any more than necessary.”
