“Wow. I’m impressed. I guess people do change.”
“You’d be surprised at how much,” he says in a low voice that resonates deliciously through me.
“So,” I say, slapping my hands over my thighs. “Where are we going?”
“First, breakfast. Then a vineyard.”
I turn my face to look at him. “You’re trying to get me drunk on a friend date?”
I can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile, or laugh. “You wore red lipstick on this friend date.”
I laugh, sigh, and groan all in a matter of three seconds. “You’re impossible.”
“You make me this way.”
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say, looking out the window. “Does this car have Bluetooth?”
Oliver chuckles. “Yes, Princess Estelle, is it up to par with your inspection?”
I stop moving my hand over the dash and set it back on my lap, feeling a blush creep into my face.
“I liked your old car better,” I say.
Oliver’s eyebrows hike up and he turns to gape at me. “You like my beat-up Maxima better than this?”
I shrug. “It was more cozy. This reminds me of the Batmobile, and there’s nothing wrong with the Batmobile, but I like cozy.”
He shakes his head and mutters something under his breath, but starts to look for my phone to hook up to Bluetooth. He already knows it’s because I want to play my own music—I don’t even have to explain. I used to bring my own CD whenever I was in the car with him. Oliver listens to two things: heavy rock and rap, and while I’m okay with both, I prefer the classics. The Steve Miller Band hasn’t even gotten to the hook before they’re interrupted by a call from Mia.
Oliver looks at me with a question in his eyes.
“If you don’t mind,” I say. He presses the button, and before I say hello, Mia’s frantic voice comes through.
“What underwear are you wearing?” she asks.
My face goes hot for the second time this morning. From the corner of my eye, I see Oliver bite down on his lip.
“What?” I ask. “Mia, you’re on speaker phone!”
“I don’t care. This is an emergency. Do you not hear the shrill tone in my voice? What are you wearing under your clothes?”
My eyes snap to the side of Oliver’s face, then out the front window, and finally, I pull my shirt slightly and look down, because I completely forgot what underwear I have on.
“Can you disconnect the phone?” I say to Oliver, who shakes his head in refusal. “Please. This is like . . . monumentally embarrassing.”
“Just answer,” he whispers.
“Who’s that?” Mia asks.
“Oliver. We’re in his car, and you’re on the fucking Bluetooth.”
She laughs. “Oh my God! I am so sorry, Bean!”
“What?” I shout. “He’s not the one being harassed!”
“Oh, but now he is. So tell me—underwear?”
“White lace bra and matching boy shorts,” I say, almost through my teeth, not missing the way Oliver’s eyes snap to me with an approving look. I want to slap him for it, but I know nothing good would come of that, so I just cross my arms over my chest like a petulant child.
“Well, you know that favor you owe me,” she begins. “The male model can only come at noon. Will you be available at that time?”
I look back at Oliver, who shakes his head. “Can we do it later? Like at. . . . six?” I say, asking him more than her.
“Elle! This is huge. I’ll have to make more calls, and nobody can do quick shoots because they’re all in LA for some sort of fashion thing!”
I huff out a breath and close my eyes, leaning on the headrest. “Let me call you back.”
“Please let me know within the hour. Please.”
“I will.”
Oliver disconnects the call as we park in front of a little shack by the water.
“What was that about?” he asks, turning the car off and turning to face me.
“She has this photo shoot that has gone wrong in every way imaginable, and she asked me to do it for her, but apparently can’t find a guy to shoot with me on such short notice.”
“Do you want to do it? I mean, we can eat and go there instead . . .”
I sigh, looking out the window. “I know this isn’t what you had planned for our friend date.”
“But you want to be there for your friend. I get it, Elle. We can go over there after.”
I turn back to him with a smile. “Thank you.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
We head inside and sit down in the balcony, where we’re steps away from the water. There is a group of surfers out there tending their boards, while others are in the water waiting for better waves.
“This okay?” Oliver asks, nodding to the surfers.
I smile. “It’s perfect.”
“Okay. I wasn’t sure.” Realization dawns on me when his eyes move back toward the beach full of surfers.
“We can talk about it, you know? I’m really okay.”
He smiles softly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine.”