As I was pfffting, I looked out the front window, my gaze settling on my car. A gift from my parents when I graduated high school, I’d driven it ever since. Sporty, fun, fast, and a little preppy—I loved that car.
But it wasn’t right for me anymore. I couldn’t have picked up Sammy Davis Jr. this morning without Lucas and his truck. As it was, I couldn’t even haul more than two industrial-size bags of Dog Chow. The car was perfect for San Diego Chloe. But Monterey Chloe needed something different.
Grabbing my keys and my purse, I jumped into the car, dropped the top, and headed down the hill for my last joy ride.
“You did what?” Lucas said, when I came sailing in through the front door of the clinic that afternoon.
“I bought a new car! Come see, come see!” I pulled him through the waiting area by the hand. “Hiya, Marge!”
“Hiya, sugar!” she called back, smiling big when she saw me holding Lucas’ hand. I dropped it quickly, holding the door open for him instead.
“I don’t understand. Why did you get something new?” he asked, his face curious.
“The convertible wasn’t practical anymore—not with what I’m doing now. And I didn’t want to have to call you every time I needed to go get a dog. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I needed something bigger. Something more in line with my new life here, more outdoorsy,” I explained, practically skipping through the parking lot.
He couldn’t help but laugh at my excitement, and followed me through the cars toward the back. “You went by yourself?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“I would have gone with you, you know.”
“Why would I need you to go with me?” I asked, then did my best Ta-Da Pose. “Ta-da!” I sang out, pointing to my new car.
“That’s why,” he sighed, looking at what I’d bought.
A 1989 Suburban. Blue with white paneling. It was a thousand feet long, a thousand feet wide, had actual carpet on the floor, and smelled liked pine.
“Oh, Chloe,” he said, his mouth quirking up at the edges as he struggled not to laugh.
“What? It’s great! Wait until you see how it handles,” I said, tugging at the driver’s-side door, which tended to stick a little.
“So what did you pay for this car?”
“Nothing! I got a great deal on my trade-in and—”
“You traded in your convertible?” He was no longer laughing. “Can I please see the paperwork?”
“Hey, I handled it, it’s no big deal. I looked online at the trade-in value before went in, on that Carrie Blue Book site? And this car was priced at almost exactly what my car was worth! And the best part is, I even talked the guy into giving me free car washes for the entire year. I was all wheely dealy,” I said proudly, climbing into my new car. I slammed the door shut, and then rolled down the window. “Look, manual windows! How cool is that!”
“Very cool. Did you happen to notice it’s leaking under the engine?”
“The guy said it did that sometimes, but was perfectly normal for a car this old. What color is it?”
“Green.”
“Oh, yeah, he said if it did that, to just bring it back; they’ll top something off.”
“Chloe, you really should have taken someone with you,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a piece of shit. They saw a pretty girl with a nice BMW, and they totally took advantage of you. We need to go back and get this straightened out. You can’t keep this car.”
“Like hell I can’t!” I climbed out of the car. He was taking away my buzz and I was started to get pissed. “I know what you think: stupid, pretty Chloe can’t handle her own problems. But I got this, okay? I’m not taking the car back.”
“I’m not trying to start a fight here. Of course you can take care of your own problems. But have you ever done this before? Bought a car?”
“No,” I allowed, the spike of anger giving way as quickly as it came.
“Chlo, I took my dad with me the first time I bought a car. Hell, I took him with me the first three cars. It’s kind of a big deal, and you want to make sure you’re not getting, well, taken advantage of,” he said softly, tapping on the hood of the car. A bit of rust fell onto the asphalt.
Ah, fudge, what had I done? I’d been excited to get this car, but I did have a funny feeling afterward that maybe I’d acted too impulsively. And now that funny feeling was back in the pit of my stomach.
“I just wanted to take care of it on my own, you know?” I asked, turning toward him. He wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t making fun of me. “That’s all.”
And then the tears came. Oh, for God’s sake. Between the emotions of picking up the dog this morning, the conversation with my mother, the excitement over getting the car, and now this . . .
“Hey, c’mere,” he murmured, and just like that I was in his arms.