Page 16 of Feuds and Interludes
I climbed out of my car, feeling brave, and looked around. I found him quickly, in a classic car no less, a restored van from what looked like the ’60s. He had sunglasses on even though the sun was mostly down, but that was his brand. He probably didn’t want a bunch of lookie-loos seeing him.
So I waved like a damn wacky wavy inflatable thing and trotted over to his van.
He may have shaken his head, but I ignored that response.
He had one tanned, muscular arm resting on the window ledge. Though it was chilly out, he wore a short-sleeved black bowling-type shirt with a white tank undershirt beneath. I’d been delighted when he’d shaved his head, thinking the look suited him. Made him look more dangerous, which fit with his music. His dark brows and his thin mustache and beard added to his severe look, and when he performed, his sneers and growls showed off perfect white teeth.
“Hey,” I said on approach.
I got a chin lift. “Nice shirt.”
I looked down to try to remember what shirt I had on. “Oh! Scooby gang. Yeah. I love the show. And you’ve got the perfect van for a stakeout.”
He stared at me for a couple of long moments before he leaned over and unlocked the passenger-side door. Every move he made was hesitant, like he thought at any minute I was going to attack. Or embarrass him.
I walked around to the passenger side and climbed in.
The entire van had been reupholstered and carpeted in dark gray colors, which paired nicely with the metallic teal paint job. In the back was a cabinet with a cooktop, a small fridge and…a bed.
That discovery made my vision go a little spotty.
Wow, did I have a crush.
Seven
Shane
“This is great. How long have you been living the van life, Shane?”
I smirked. “I had it done like this so Grandpa and I could maybe travel. The bed flips up to make more storage space for hauling gear.” I fidgeted in my seat, why did it matter that Boone liked my van?
“It’s fantastic! Spotless, picture-perfect, and cozy. Not the kind of vehicle one would picture Shane Butler riding around in. Then again, I don’t know much about the real Shane, so how would I know?”
His compliments further caught me off guard, so I looked out the window toward the direction he’d come from to gather my wits. I didn’t want to make a total fool of myself. I lifted my chin when I spotted a sleek-looking electric car. “That your car?”
“The Mach-E? Yeah. Love it. Ridiculously fun to drive. I wanted something reliable and better for the environment, you know? Gas guzzlers are going to destroy us.”
We both looked at the dash of my van.
“Uh, yeah, I have a Honda too,” I said lamely. What did I care what he thought? Except I cared about the environment, too.
He sniffed and turned to face the restaurant. “I guess we should talk about it.”
“About…it?” I asked, then I realized I was being dumb. “Oh. Them.”
“Yeah. Them.” He shrugged. “I think it’s cute they’re meeting up. I’m sure they’re just talking over old times.”
I ran my hand up under my sunglasses, unsure I was ready to have this discussion with Boone. I rubbed my eyes and then my stubble-covered jaw. “It ain’t just old times for Pops.”
He turned sideways in the seat, flicked his long hair back over his shoulder and waited for me to continue. His aqua t-shirt with the cartoon Scooby Gang was…cute, but the way it hugged his chest, and those tight, flared corduroy pants he wore with Birkenstocks…he looked damn fine sitting in my van. He’d fit in well with the SoCal set if it were 1968, when our grandparents met.
That thought gave me pause in my gawking. I pulled the sunglasses off with a huff and leaned my arm on the steering wheel.“He’s still got feelings for her, you know. This ain’t just about old friends catching up, Collins.”
He sat a little taller in my seat. “Oh. Well.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You see my concern?”
He frowned. “What?”
