“Is that how you decide who you’re going to date? By how nice his car is?” I knew I was baiting her again, but I just couldn’t help myself.
I watched her face, waiting for her to narrow her eyes at me or shoot me a bird or at least frown. Instead, she shot me a dazzling smile. “Have you seen the car I’m driving? What makes you think I need to date a guy for his car?”
The image of her struggling to get out of that antique, ugly-*ss tank made me smile.
“You do have a point.”
“If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll take you for a ride,” she said in little more than a whisper, as if she were in unfamiliar territory.
I locked my eyes on hers. I could see her uncertainty, perhaps a little bit of horror that I might even take her up on it. I figured it was best to let her off the hook.
“I’ve never been very good at playing cards.”
She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
“I usually do.”