Leah instantly dipped down and retrieved the backpack she had left leaning up against the tire of her car. She dug inside, pulled out a bandana, and thrust it at him.
Michael took the bandana and methodically wiped his hands. Leah’s gaze never left him, watching him closely, as if she expected him to total the car on the spot. Which, if it were up to him, he’d do in a moment. Leah deserved to be driving something better than this piece of shit. “It’s the distributor cap.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding.
“It’s cracked.” He winced sympathetically.
Leah frowned and looked at her car. “It is? I could have sworn I just had that checked.”
“Had what checked?”
“You know,” she said, waving her hand. “Caps and all that stuff—oh,” she added, obviously getting another message from Brad. Her brows dipped into a V. She squinted at the engine, then at Michael. “But I thought you checked that sort of thing—oh. Oh,” she said again, her frown turning into a painful wince as Brad obviously explained to her what it meant if her distributor cap was cracked. “Oh. My. God! You have got to be kidding!” she cried into the phone and threw her head back, eyes closed, one palm pressed against her forehead. She groaned, “This is the worst news ever.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” Michael offered.
Leah instantly straightened and shook her head. “No, no, that’s okay. Brad will come and . . .” Her face fell. “Oh,” she said softly. “Right, right, I forgot. No, it’s okay. Really. Not a problem. I’ll get home. You go do your thing and good luck. Okay, later,” she said, and clicked off her phone. She tossed it into her backpack, then stood with her hands on her hips, frowning at Michael.
“Problem?” he asked, trying to hide the delight in his voice.
“Brad has a meeting with his agent he can’t miss.”
“That means you’re stuck with me. Good news.”
“For you, maybe.”
“Hey, girl, I already said I’d give you a ride. You don’t need to try and flatter me.”
“I’m not trying to— Oh!” she cried with frustration and glared at her car. “Stupid, stupid car!” she exclaimed and then glanced at Michael again. Then she suddenly whirled around, scanning the cars that were left. “Isn’t there anyone else here?” she cried. “One of the girls, maybe? All I need is a ride to a bus stop—”
“Okay, now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Michael said. “Leah, it’s just a ride. That’s it. I will take you where you need to go, and you can call someone to come haul this away while you’re working.”
“But how will I get to work?” she asked the sky, arms fully extended. Before Michael could open his mouth to offer, Leah lifted a finger. “Ha! I’ll call Trudy. She owes me.”
“Okay, great. That’s settled. Shall we proceed with said ride and get it over with?” She slanted a look at him. He shrugged. “Just following your lead.”
Leah actually smiled a little. “Okay. Let’s get it over with.”
“I’m just over there,” he said, and pointed to his bronze T-bird convertible.
Leah turned to look where he pointed, and her shoulders instantly sagged. “You drive a T-bird?” she exclaimed. “I want a T-bird. I have wanted the blue T-bird for at least a hundred years. How is it fair that you have that car and I don’t?”
“Come check it out.”
Clearly defeated, she nodded. Michael picked up her backpack, but she instantly took it from him, her fingers brushing his, and shoved the pack over her shoulder. She pivoted away from him and locked the driver’s door.
“Your passenger window is down,” he pointed out.
“It’s broken.”
He didn’t see any point in locking the one good door, but he said nothing.
They walked across the lot together—a good two feet between them that felt like an ocean—to the passenger side of his car. He’d left the top down, so Leah leaned over the door like she was leaning over the ledge of a cliff and looked inside the interior. “Wow,” she said reverently. “It’s even nicer than I thought.”
“You’ll love the way it rides,” he said, and opened the passenger door for her. Leah slipped into the seat, one leg after the other, pushed her backpack to the floor between her feet, and yanked at her skirt before folding her hands primly in her lap.
That simple gesture reminded him of another moment so long ago; the day she had found out she’d been given a part in the play, Marty’s Sister’s Lover. She’d sat on his couch, her smile brilliant, her hands clasped together in her lap so tightly that he’d had the sense she was trying to contain her absolute glee at having won the part.
“You’re excited,” he’d said.
“I’ve never been this excited in my life. Well . . . except for Saturday night,” she’d added with a salacious little wink.
With that memory in his mind’s eye, Michael shut the passenger door and strode around to the driver’s side.