Who was the Goody Two-Shoes now? Struck her that Gabe had more of a conservative element than anyone had guessed. ‘I’m working on it.’
‘Getting the celebratory Bolly isn’t exactly working on it.’ He eyeballed her and looked dead serious. ‘Give me the keys.’
She sighed dramatically, covering the hiccup in her heartbeat. ‘Who do you think you are?’
Somehow he broadened his position, blocking her from the car door. ‘Give me the keys or I’ll call the cops and dob you in.’
She gasped at the unmistakable menace in his tone. ‘You wouldn’t be such a nark.’
‘Try me.’
She curled her fingers round the keys so hard they marked her skin.
He just waited, his hand outstretched. ‘Give.’
Her nostrils flared as she smacked the keys down hard on his upturned palm.
He straightened and spun, unlocked the car and got into the driver’s seat with a wicked grin on his face as he unwound the window to talk to her. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive one of these. Can I drive home?’
She glared at him looking so at home in her 1954 Mark 1 Zephyr with its powder-blue base and gleaming chrome. No way was he driving her baby. ‘What about your own car?’
It was one of those sporty convertible things that cost an absolute fortune. Parked only a few spots away from hers, it was too flash for daylight.
He reached into his pocket and threw his keys at her. ‘You drive it.’
She was so shocked she failed to catch them. ‘No way.’ She picked the keys from the ground, balled her fists and stuck them on her hips.
‘Why not?’ He laughed, annoyingly. And, yes, reheating those parts that always leapt to life in his presence. The melt was almost impossible to prevent now.
‘Because it’s worth eighty times what mine is,’ she fumed, trying to stay mad with him, trying not to like him all the more for teasing her so hard. ‘I drive that and you’re not insured. I can’t afford any bill to fix a dent in your baby.’
He leaned back in the seat, a smug expression all over. ‘Goody Two-Shoes.’
‘Fine, so what if I am?’
‘Youstaythat way.’ His eyes flashed as he got out of the car and handed her keys back to her. ‘You know, you really should get your license,’ he said condescendingly. ‘You’re not covered by insurance without it. One day you’ll get caught and then you’ll get done. You don’t want a conviction to ruin your chances of getting an entry visa into the US or wherever it is you want to go travelling to, do you?’
She frowned, not pleased by that idea. ‘Could that happen?’
He shrugged. ‘Dunno. Maybe.’ He held the door for her, way too close again as she took up position in the driver’s seat. ‘Guess you’d better drive carefully...’ He trailed off and then dipped down to murmur slyly, ‘Unless you want me to drive you?’
Oh, now there was no holding back on the flirt of it. Not when he couldn’t help himself either. She turned her head and peered up at him, fluttering her lashes. ‘Gabe, you know I want you to drive,’ she cooed. ‘Just not my car.’
He chuckled as he shut the door, then reached through the window to gently brush her jaw with his knuckles. ‘Keep working on the sass. I’m sure one day you’ll graduate to fully frisky vixen.’
She glared at him and started the engine. ‘Better stand back, the steering on this beast can be tricky sometimes, wouldn’t want to run over your toes.’
He followed her home, making her so hot and bothered she missed a couple of gear changes. A glance in her rear-view mirror showed the flash of his smile in the car too close behind hers. She turned into her place, got out to drag open the heavy old garage door, then parked her car inside.
He’d parked on the street, so she left the garage door open for him. He walked in and shut it with annoying ease. Then he walked to where she was trying to straighten the blue tarpaulin that barely covered the towers of cardboard boxes she’d stacked along the back wall.
‘You have so much stuff,’ he commented as she turned towards him.
‘Yeah, but at least it’s all sorted now.’ She glanced back at the boxes with displeasure. ‘I’m not sure what to do with it.’
‘You don’t want to keep it?’
‘Not all of it. But if I let it go, then it’s gone for good.’ All the memories, the stories, their lives. She’d been through every inch and not found the answers she wanted. ‘Same with the furniture.’ She sighed and walked to the small door that led outto the garden. ‘I got rid of a few things, but you’ve seen the rest all jammed in up there.’ And she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it.
