“Let’s just say I’m a page and a half closer to finishing this book.”
Holding it aloft, she let him glimpse the thickness of the tome. The only book he’d ever read that thick wasA Tale of Two Cities, and admittedly, he’d only picked that one up because he got that book andWar and Peacemixed up. He shook his head.
“Oh, Sam.”
“What? I’ll finish it tonight. I’m a fast reader when I’m not distracted.”
He pulled himself up from over the metallic innards of the car and slung himself up from the propped-open hood like a pin-up model.
“I distract you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Then, something strange happened. Something that hadn’t yet happened in the entire course of their short acquaintance. She laughed. Not one of those short, polite laughs she often offered or one of those guarded chuckles, mind you, but a laugh that consumed her entire face. Real laughter. Her hand flew to her mouth to control the noise, but it was too late. He’d already seen her in completion. And he loved her all the more for it.
“No,” she managed, her red cheeks quivering as she struggled to compose her face back into a calm mask. “I’m just really into 1950s Italian sports cars.”
It was then that Daniel decided he would pose like the cover art for a 1940s calendar every day of his life if it meant he could drink in the delicious honey of her laughter again.
“What’s the reading for, then?”
“MyWar, Peace, and World Orderlecture.”
“And what’s your discipline again?” he asked, knowing full well she’d never told him what she studied. In spite of days of growing closer and closer, she’d kept her own life as close as a winning hand of cards. She answered coolly as she turned the page of her reading.
“Politics and international relations.”
“And you’re interested in that, are you?”
“Politics should interest everyone. They affect everyone, don’t they? Besides, I thought you’d be excited by the international relations part.”
She waggled her eyebrows and painted on a smirk that clearly told him to drop the issue or at least to ignore it for now. The entendre wasn’t lost on him or on…certain parts of his anatomy, but he soldiered on.
“I’m just curious why any nice person would go into politics.”
Calling her anice personwas an unfair way to bait her, but the words were out of his mouth before he could trap them. Time stretched before she answered.
“I thought it would make my dad proud.”
“Hmm.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s nothing. It’s just…” He shrugged, his hands tightening involuntarily around a wrench as he thought of the man who so coldly dismissed him on his first day at work. To think that man had given the world someone like Sam struck him as nearly impossible. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d seen the way she clung to old traditions that didn’t fit her. Something like that could only come from a parent. “When I wanted to make my parents proud, I did what fulfilled me. Music doesn’t make much money, but they’re proud because I always come home happy, you know?”
“Yeah, but now you’re about to be a big-time recording artist.”
“Maybe.” Pride filled his chest, as it did every time they talked about his future with Icon Records. In just a few days, he’d travel to London and meet with their entire signing staff, singing for them so they could decide whether or not to make his signing official. “But my parents would have supported me even if no one ever heard my music. They want me to be happy.”
“Not everyone can have parents like yours. Not all of us are so lucky.” Her thoughtful response wasn’t an insult, but it cut like one. Setting her book aside, she leaned forward on the bench where she’d made her home these last few days and took stock of his current position, elbow deep in grease and metal, struggling mightily to get the engine running as he needed it to keep his job. “Do you want some help down there?”
“No. I can handle it.”
Before he could tell her all the reasons it was wrong, she’d dropped her book and appeared at his side. As far as he knew, she didn’t know the first thing about cars, but still, she stood at his side. There was something beautiful about her then, shaded in cheap overhead lights as she forgot about the uptight trappings of her station and leaned against a greasy car with him.
“Don’t be silly. What can I do?”
“Just hold onto this.”
“Yeah.”
