Page 82 of Infatuated as They Come
“Holly…”
“What?” she said, twirling at some of her hair.
“What’d you do?”
“Happy birthday!” she said, voice all cheery. She placed her hands on my shoulders, giving me a deep kiss. “I hope you like it.”
I dropped the bags right then and there on the grey floor—even that looked expensive, all smooth and without a hint of dirt. “No, no, no, no, no. No way.”
“That’s a good ‘no’, right?”
“Holly…. No, I can’t. I can’t take this off you.” Just one glance at the truck told me it cost a lot. I could tell it was vintage, and that alone meant it already cost a hell of a lot, but the clean look to it meant it had been restored. The light blue paint looked smooth, not a chip to be seen. No rusting, no dents, not a hint of damage. It looked good as new. Good as new meant expensive. And then it hit me. “This is what you’ve been sneaking around doing the last couple days?”
“I’m sorry I was so distant.” She moved her hands to my chest. “But you deserve something really nice and there weresomany phone calls to make to get it down here on time.”
I sighed deeply, my arms wrapping around her as I eyed the truck. “I can’t, Holly.”
“Why not?”
“How much did it cost?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“No, it doesn’t. Let me do this for you.”
My fingers pressed into her waist, trying to come up with an excuse to get her to take it back. “No one drives a pickup truck in New York City. I’m gonna look like a serial killer driving around in that thing.”
“Well, I can’t return it, so you’re gonna have to deal with everyonewondering how many bodies you have in the back.”
“It’s impossible to find a parking spot on the street.”
“I know. That’s why you can park it in here. You get a designated spot and everything. I already paid for a year. It’s so much easier this way, right?”
I blinked at her. She had fucking thought of everything. “Can you at least tell me how much it cost?”
“I told you that it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters a lot.”
“It’s your birthday gift. It doesn’t matter how much birthday gifts cost.”
“It’s a very expensive birthday gift.”
“Well, I love you and I want you to have it.”
“Holly, I can’t. Thank you for getting it. It means a lot that you did something so nice for me, but… No, I just can’t.”
“Well, you can’t return a car,” she said with a shrug. “So it looks like it’s not going anywhere.”
“Sell it.”
“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “I refuse.”
“You refuse?”
“Yes.” She tucked a hand into her coat pocket, taking out what I assumed was the key to the truck that was hooked up to a mini red and white pom pom. “And look, I already put on the pom pom keychain I got at the start of semester. It’s official now. You can’t take it back.”
