Page 35 of No More Secrets
“Just like that?”
“Booked a red-eye, and here I am.”
“And you’re back for good?”
“If she’ll have me.”
“You think there’s a chance.”
“Oh, I know there’s a chance.”
“She hit you pretty hard. You might have a concussion and be delusional.”
“Funny girl. That just means she still has feelings for me,” he winked.
Summer found his confidence endearing. And maybe a little naïve.
“What about all your stuff in L.A.? Your house, your seventy-five dollar underwear collection, your job?”
He shrugged again. “It’ll keep.”
She let that drop, too.
“So you write movies?” she asked, changing the subject.
They talked writing and process until Summer turned toward the farm.
“Do you mind if we make one more stop? There’s one last thing on my shopping list.”
CHAPTER NINE
Ernest Washington’s used car lot occupied an acre on the outskirts of town. EW’s VWs specialized in restoring vintage Volkswagen buses. There were five of them gleaming bright in a rainbow of color against the road.
“Please tell me you’re getting that one,” she said, pointing to a purple camper model, as she got out of the car.
“I could have made good use of a van with a bed in the back in high school,” Jax waxed nostalgically. He led the way toward the office/garage.
A man in neatly pressed khakis intercepted them. His wispy white beard came to his chest and the hair on top of his head was tamed by a blue bandana.
“I thought I saw a Pierce meandering about out here,” he said, clapping Jax on the back.
“Good to see you, Ern,” Jax said. “This is my friend Summer.”
Ernest took her offered hand and kissed her knuckles. “A veritable pleasure, Summer. What brings you two to my humble entrepreneurial endeavor?”
“I’m in the market for some wheels,” Jax told him.
“Planning to replant some transplanted roots, I hear,” Ernest said, wiggling his bushy brows.
“That’s the plan. What have you got for me?”
Ernest surveyed the lot. “Well, we’ve got your buses there, your Dubs there, a couple of sedans over yonder. But I’m thinking a man such as yourself needs a little more power under the hood.”
“I knew you’d have something squirreled away,” Jax nodded. “Tell me more.”
“How does a 1969 350 small block with black on black sound?”
“Like you’re about to make me the happiest man on the planet.”
