“Sure,” she said as they stared at the serendipitous view that she hadn’t even noticed on her way in.

“Why did you give up football?”

Laughter swelled in her chest. Maybe a small laugh even escaped her. Every memory with him rose to the surface. He had attended every single one of her games. He’d worked cramps from her calves. Held her face when she cried because she’d let a crucial goal go. You’re fierce. You can do this.

It was plain in his eyes how badly he wanted to understand. It made the mismatched size of his eyes more apparent. Even more important than how well he had understood her was how badly he’d wanted to. How much she had needed that. How many things it would have changed to have had it for longer.

For a few moments the emerald centers hypnotized her. But the golden flecks asked questions she had no answers to, questions that proved how little he knew her now.

“I grew up,” she said finally before pushing off the hood and getting in the car.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

One moment they were standing close enough that Rico could drop a kiss on her head, and the next moment she was inside the car, leaving behind the scent of her wet hair. God, her hair smelled like magic.

He followed her into the car.

She turned the ignition and looked at him. “Can I ask you a question too?”

“Sure.”

“How did you convince China to give me her car?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. China told me she’s going to some sort of corporate dinner and wanted me to take her car home, so she could, you know, imbibe.”

He shrugged. They were both suppressing smiles and it felt even better than straight-out smiling. It wasn’t fair how every cell in Rico’s body lapped up just how good it felt.

Shifting gears, she pulled out of the parking spot.

They merged into traffic with cars packed back to back. She switched gears again. On the drive in he’d been in such a haze of anticipation, he hadn’t noticed that the car had a manual transmission. He had no idea she could drive manual. There was something insanely hot about it.

She caught him looking at her hand on the gear box. “My uncle insisted we all learn how to drive stick shifts. Wanted to make sure we had essential life skills.”

“Driving manual is a life skill? I must have missed that memo.” He barely drove anymore. Hadn’t in years.

She looked mock-horrified. “What will you do when you’re stranded in . . . um . . . anywhere in the world where they still drive only stick?”

“Take George with me?” he said.

Her answering laugh was husky and teasing. She followed it up with a quick lesson on the gears and the clutch.