“Aston Martin?”
“They couldn’t get it custom-made in time for my party.”
My smile dropped, and I peered closer. “Seriously?”
He shot me a look. “They did buy me a car, but then I bought my truck when I was seventeen. And I did have a job in high school, smarty pants.”
“The truck you’re driving tonight?”
“The very same.”
I tried not to be impressed that he still used the old truck he drove in high school when all signs suggested he could probably afford newer and better—or at the very least, his parents could.
“I keep the Lamborghini parked in the garage on guys’ night so I don’t make Mike and Ryan feel bad.”
I leaned back in my seat. “So considerate of you.”
“I try.”
“What was your job in high school?”
He adjusted in his seat before doing an almost convincing job of faking a cough.
I leaned forward, wolf on the scent. “Come on…what was it?”
“When I was in high school, my dad was a lawyer. I worked at his office as a runner.”
“They hire people to jog for them?”
A smile crept across his lips. “They hire people to run documents that need signed all over town, grab coffees, wash their cars…things like that.”
I tried to imagine a young Duke grabbing coffee for people. I could see it, strangely enough, though it definitely shouldn’t have fit his MO. “You said in high school. What does your dad do now?”
“He starts up companies and sells them.”
“And now you’re going into business with your friends?”
He stretched his legs out in front of himself. “Ryan and Mike talked me into starting a marketing company with them, so I guess I’m going to try that for a bit.”
“For a bit? Why? You don’t think you’ll work well together?”
He shrugged. “We used to blow up mailboxes as teenagers, and now they think we can run our own business.”
I jolted. “You blew up mailboxes?”
“It was a dark time in my otherwise spotless existence.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“I replaced all the mailboxes and was sentenced to a summer living at my grandparents’ farm—to get away from all the bad influences.” His voice was dry, almost sarcastic, though he said it with a smile.
My eyebrows raised. “Did it work?”
Another shrug. He was giving me bits and pieces, which made me instantly annoyed I had given him so much.
“Hey! I gave you stuff on my mother.” I pushed his shoulder lightly. “And you think I might have an abscess, so you’d better start talking.”
His laughter was quick, and our easy camaraderie started up again.
