I scrunch my nose at him. “No. And I guess?”
“Are you asking me or are you telling me?”
I hate that he repeats that. I know my mind. I’m just slow under a threat or a demand to know which direction I want to go.
I nod. Mostly to annoy him and then give him my best intentionally placating smile.
“If you haven’t bought a car in a while, there are several things to think about. “Price and safety, obviously. Cost of ownership. You definitely want all-wheel drive out here. Four-wheel can work as well. But I’d prefer not a two-wheel drive.”
He’d prefer? Why does he get a vote?
“I think an SUV would serve you well. Electric could work for most of what you do, but the long-term ability to hold value hasn’t been proven. So if you’re eco-conscious, it’s worth considering. If you’re looking for long-term ownership like your Accord, I’d steer you away. Are there any brands you love or hate?”
“I have very little opinion on cars, Liam. I want reliable and safe. And don’t want a mortgage payment in a note.”
He spins his laptop around. On the screen is a web site that has tick boxes for everything from fuel efficiency to features to note to luxury things like heated mirrors. It also holds external dimensions.
“Can we eliminate what won’t fit in my garage?”
He turns it back to his view and types and clicks.
“I like the idea of a hybrid too. Might as well do what I can.” I find myself leaning closer and closer toward the screen.
And the man who holds it.
More clicks and the list trims down to a reasonable number. He screencaps before typing, and my phone dings.
“Take a look at those when you can. Eliminate what you dislike, and we’ll test drive the rest. We can do a little each night or spend Saturday shopping. I promise it’s not as sexy as it sounds.”
We. What a relief.
“Thank you,” I offer quietly. It’s sincere. I have no idea how I could do all this without the help. “I don’t know when I’ll get my insurance payout, though.”
“That doesn’t stop you from test driving anything. It justmeans you won’t know the term. Now, do you want the Tahoe for tomorrow or would you like chauffeur service?”
I drop my gaze. I’m not ready yet. Not after Monday. I don’t want to sound weak. I don’t want tobeweak.
His thumb and forefinger find my chin and tilt my gaze up to meet his. His face fills my vision.
“Executive decision. I’ll drive you until you find the car you want.”
“Okay.” My voice is thick. I lick my lips, suddenly feeling exposed.
He closes his eyes as he always seems to do when I’m too close. “It’ll give you more time to research.”
When I’m back on my side of the sofa, he slides the laptop shut and heads down the hallway. The water runs, and I swear I hear the scraping of a manual toothbrush. Doors open and close, and the water shuts off.
“Do you have extra blankets?” he asks from the mouth of the hall.
I have one roughly the size of a beach towel, but no others. “I donated the stuff I didn’t need or didn’t use before I moved. I didn’t see any point in paying to move it.”
He nods solemnly and rolls his neck to the ceiling. He doesn’t seem annoyed, perhaps simply resigned, but either way, the action flashes the tattoos at his neck.
I wish I could get a closer look. That first day—my moving day—I noticed, but I didn’t see, if that makes sense. There was no time to study.
“It’s ten-thirty,” he says frankly.
Oh? Oh. He doesn’t strike me as an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of man. Except maybe to— I shut that thought off midstream. The thing is… I am. I bathe, do my nighttime routine, watch a little TV in bed, and roll over to fall asleep at ten-thirty.
