Page 35 of Always Knew It Was You

Compared to scorn and pity, I have to admit, envy and curiosity feel kinda nice.

“What happened to the Porsche?” I ask as I walk around to the passenger side. Micah follows me to pull open the door.

“Wasn’t my style,” he says as I climb in. “Too bulky. I actually wanted this in the first place, but some senator’s son was in town and already rented it out.”

“Ah,” I laughed at his disgruntled expression.

“Luckily, they couldn’t afford it for another day, and now I get to play with this baby.”

“You know this is my first time in a sports car?” I tell him as he gets in the driver’s seat. I stare at the mustard-brown interior and inhale the fresh scent of exotic leather and cologne.

“For real?” he turns to me and then says, “Well then. I’ll make sure to make it a ride you won’t forget.”

The car purrs to life, the sound a pleasant hum that fades into almost nothing. Micah pulls out of the parking lot in a smooth move, and when he reverses to get the turn right, the smart screen in front of him shows our back in exquisite detail.

And then, as the car joins the road, he kicks up the speed in a heart-pounding rush.

“Micah,” I warn as my hands clutch the leather seats below me, my heart rate ticking up steadily. The car is a well-oiled machine, too well-oiled, offering no resistance at all as it zooms down the road. I’ve never gone this fast before. It’s a little disconcerting. The roads are mostly empty but still. Once we get on the highway, the world whizzes by even faster and the loss of control scares me.

And also… thrills me.

“Relax,” Micah says. “I got you.”

He takes one hand off the wheel and folds it over the hand that’s clutching the seat. He turns it over, making me hold his hand tightly instead.

The ride continues at the same stomach-dropping speed, switching lanes and slowing only for red lights.

After a while, I start to relax.

Maybe because it’s so clear that Micah is in complete control here. Maybe it’s the steady rhythm or the solid feel of the vehicle, or the cologne-scented seats. Or maybe it’s Micah’s touch. Either way, my muscles start to unknot and before I know it, I’m just holding Micah’s hand rather than squeezing the life out of it as I lean back into the seat.

“See?” Micah says. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Mhmmm,” I respond. Now that I’m not scared for my life, I can enjoy the smooth navigation and bone-meltingly comfortable seats. Not to mention all the buttons on the dashboard. “Where are we going?”

“Shopping,” he says. “I forgot to mention yesterday, but my grandfather is, well, a snob. It’s why I lied and told him that you were a high-society girl. Now, you have to look and play the part.”

“Ah.” I nod. “LikePretty Woman.”

“Exactly likePretty Woman.” He nods enthusiastically and runs his thumb over my fingers in approval. “What an excellent movie that was.”

“I don’t know about that. It seemed a little farfetched to me.”

He gives me a look of mock horror. “Blasphemy.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on. A wealthy, upper-crust businessman falls in love with a hooker? And what’s more, he marries her? Please. That would never happen in real life.”

“Yes, it could. Where’s your sense of romance?”

“I’m a realist. And in reality, even if he did fall in love with her, he would never claim her in public, much less marry her. She would simply live her life as his hidden mistress.”

As we reach a red light, he stares for a long time, thoughtful. “Man, you’re jaded.”

I shrug. “I prefer the term pragmatic”

“Hmm. We’ll put a pin in that discussion for now. But today, we’re going to have yourPretty Womanshopping montage.”

“Alright.” I figure if we’re going shopping, we’re probably headed to Bayview. That’s where all the nice boutiques are, and it should take us an hour or so to get there.

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