Page 84 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“The idea of souls finding each other doesn’t interest you?”

“I’m a woman of science,” I’d stated.

“Well, good luck figuring out the scientific reason that Connor’s soul speaks to yours.” Her voice had been light and teasing.

“Does Scott’s soul speak to yours?” I’d teased back.

“No, silly.” She paused briefly. “It sings to mine.”

I’d made a sound of surprised amusement. “If you were in front of me, I’d be forced to smack you across the head with my pillow.”

“Laugh all you want, Liv, but the heart knows what the heart wants, and your heart wants Connor Hunt.”

Regardless of whether it was science or a spiritual connection, I’d floated through that first week on a cloud even higher than nine.

Now Connor and I were bouncing down the mountain pass between Oak Hills and Springfield, headed for the annual King Car Expo. I’d been excited when Connor had called to invite me along. He’d seen my painting, and now I’d get to share in something he enjoyed.

After opening the door for me to get into his truck, he entered on the driver side and looked over at me. His brows furrowed and his lips pinched. He shook his head and reached out his hand for mine. The second I’d put my hand in his he pulled me across the bench seat to sit next to him.

“That’s better.”

“This is not a seat where independent-minded women like to sit,” I said with a soft smile.

“Even if I say please?” He squeezed my hand.

“You’re sure throwing that word around a lot lately.”

“So far it’s working out for me.”

I laughed, pulled a face, and buckled in, my thigh and shoulder pressing against his. I had to admit, now, that I kind of liked being close to him. Our entwined hands were resting lightly on my leg, and the typical palm sweat had miraculously stayed away.

“Are all trucks this bouncy?” I asked.

“Bouncy?” He kept his eyes on the road but raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, bouncy. Like the seatbelt is the only thing keeping me from hitting my head on the ceiling.”

“You know, with all the things I’ve heard about you over the years, no one mentioned you were a princess.”

My mouth dropped open. “We’ll circle back to the princess thing in a second. What do you mean ‘all the things you’ve heard about me’?”

“Things like, ‘that Phelps girl has a solid head on her shoulders,’ or ‘that Phelps girl is sure a hard worker,’ or ‘that Phelps girl has the cutest little...” He playfully yelped when I pinched his hand before he could finish that train of thought.

“This is what people think of me? I’m a hard worker with my head on my shoulders?” I pulled a face, slightly disappointed even though I knew those were good things. “Nothing like, ‘I bet that Phelps girl makes a lot of money in her secret life as a pirate’?”

“I’m sorry, but no. They must all think you just really like parrots.”

“Hmph. Rude.”

“Those are good things, you know. Better than what people have said about me,” he stated lightly.

I felt a prick of shame at the things I’d thought about him in the past. “True,” I said, matching his light tone. “But everyone thinks of you as so dangerous and exciting. It’s kind of a bummer to find out everyone thinks I’m a total dud.”

“Well, you didn’t let me get to the good stuff.”

I bumped my shoulder against his. “I am not a princess. I’m just confused because you probably spent a lot of money on this truck. You’d think it would float along like one of those Cadillac sedans.My caris more comfortable than this.”

“I’m offended by everything you just said.” He shot me a quick, horrified glance. “Your car is one pothole away from becoming a go-cart, and trucks are not meant to feel like you’re driving a couch down the road.”

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