It was unfair. Dirty pool, really. And yet—brilliant.
Because somehow he’d shifted her spiraling panic into something else.
From failing everyone to relaxing.
To freedom.
Then he’d called the carLadybird, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The man was such an exasperatingly attractive cocktail of unexpected things—sharp wit, soft heart, and maddeningly good hair—that it should be illegal.
Or at the very least, off the menu.
But no. Now, here she was—speeding up the Blue Ridge Parkway with the top down, her dream car wrapped around her and a dashing Englishman in the passenger seat.
A man who’d once annoyed her right down to her carefully organized socks.
But now...
Now?
The open air blew his spice-and-vanilla scent toward her.
And somewhere between mile markers, she realized with a start—he mattered.
More than competing neighbors. More than friends.
“The brown signs point to the parkway.” Daphne gestured forward as they turned up the entrance to the parkway, casting Finn a grin. “You’ll want to know, because one visit will ruin you for life.”
His chuckle enveloped her like a favorite sweater as another easy silence settled between them. The kind of silence that only came when you didn’t have to force anything.
When it felt... safe.
Daphne’s brain flinched at the awareness. How had that happened?
“So...” His gaze stayed forward, but his lips crooked in profile, readying her for a flirty comment, no doubt. “This infatuation with my car—should I be concerned?”
Her shoulders squeezed at the memory. “I really was fawning all over it that first day, wasn’t I?”
“I’ve not seen a woman look at anything like that outside of a shoe store.”
Her laugh burst out. “Oh, I’ve been that woman too. But this”—she smoothed her hand over the dashboard almost reverently—“this is a much more thoughtful obsession than Steve Madden, Vince, or Paul Green could ever inspire.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Are those rugby players? Because they cannot possibly be shoes.”
Another laugh slipped from her.
He kept doing that—catching her off guard, surprising her into laughter when she least expected it.
“And...” His rich voice curled like red-velvet icing. “I hope you don’t think that answer satisfies my curiosity.”
She flicked a glance at him, noticing the wind tossing his hair into a riot. Oh, she was in so much trouble. “Granny came to the States for school, met my grandpa, and stayed. She used to tell me stories about her childhood—open fields, picnics, afternoon teas, and the tiniest, most perfect cars buzzing along country lanes.”
“Thus your love for Britain?”
“Granny was amazing, so everything she loved, I ended up falling in love with too.” The admission pricked with bittersweet memories. So many. Crowding in as they often did in unexpected ways. “Herfavorite car was a 1965 blue Cabriolet,” she said. “Grandpa bought it for her when they were newly married. They couldn’t afford fancy trips, so they’d fill up the tank and drive until they ran out of daylight—camp under the stars, dream together, plan their family together. All in that little blue car.”
She sighed, the familiar road and the company somehow unwinding all her tense muscles.
