I bit my lip. "We're not going anywhere, are we?" I hesitated. "I mean, we're not going for a drive. We're just sitting here, right?"
He leaned back in the driver's seat. "Hard to go anywhere when you're not in the car."
"Oh, c'mon, you know what I mean."
"If it makes you feel better," he said, "you can hold the keys."
I leaned forward and peered at the steering column of his car. Although the car's engine was running, I didn't see any keys dangling from the ignition.
He explained, "It's a push button."
I wasn't quite sure how that worked. Still, I held out my hand. "All right, hand them over, the keys, I mean."
"Not 'til you're inside."
"Why not?"
He gave me a look. "Anna."
"What?"
"We both know you're gonna get in. So let's cut the crap and get it over with, all right?"
In the blockbuster movies that had made him famous, Flynn had this wonderful accent – not quite British, but something close. Now, he sounded all American, just like he'd sounded back in high school.
Still, he had a nice, rich voice. And if only we didn't hate each other, I might've loved to listen to it. But now, it was just one more thing that didn't quite fit.
As far as me getting into his car, maybe he did have a point. After all, I couldn’t stand outside forever.
So, with a sigh, I circled around the front of his car, yanked open the passenger's side door, and settled myself into the passenger's seat.
I'd barely shut the door behind me when Flynn turned to me and said, "I need a girlfriend."
