“Not even in New York with your class?”
I think about that for a second, but it doesn’t take even that long for me to decide. “Not even there.”
His arms tighten around me until I can barely breathe. But who needs air when Flynn Godfrey is professing his eternal love?
A knock on the door interrupts the moment, but he only releases me partially, keeping an arm around my shoulders. “Come in.”
Addie ducks her head in. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“Were you able to get it?” Flynn asks.
“Please… Of course I was.”
“I apologize for doubting you.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about.
Addie comes in and hands a package and a piece of paper to Flynn.
I do a double take when I see my photo on the page. “What is that?”
“That, my love, is your newly issued State of California driving permit. Today you’re learning how to drive.”
Chapter 8
She’s so nervous her hands are shaking as she takes the wheel in the silver Mercedes sedan she admired when we were here for the Globes. I told her it was hers to use whenever we were in LA, and that’s when she said she didn’t know how to drive.
My poor sweet Natalie missed so many of the rites of passage the rest of us take for granted, and I want to make it all up to her, starting with teaching her how to drive.
“What if I hit something or damage the car? You love your cars.”
From the passenger seat, I take hold of her hand and wait for her to look at me. “I don’t love my cars anywhere near as much as I love you.”
Raising a brow, she says, “Even the Bugatti?”
She’s bringing out the big guns. I swallow hard. “Even the Bugatti.”
She loses it laughing. “You lie. You love that car more than anything.”
“No, sweetheart, I love you more than anything. The cars are things. They can all be replaced. And they’re insured. Fully insured.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m positive. I want you to know how much fun it is to drive and to be able to go anywhere you want whenever you want.”
In a nearby SUV is the security detail that’s sticking close to us until the story about Natalie’s past gets knocked out of the headlines by someone else’s scandal. We’re in the Quantum parking lot, where there’s plenty of extra room to practice the basics.
I go over all the features of the car and tell her where everything is. “Driving is all about being predictable. Whatever you do, it should be what the guy behind you expects you to do. Does that make sense? In other words, you don’t stop at a green light or in the middle of a turn or anything that’s going to get you hit from behind.”
“Okay… What else?”
“Go slow at first, until you get a feel for the car and what it’s capable of.”
“I can’t believe the first car I’m ever going to drive is a Mercedes.”
“Mine was a Jaguar. My dad was a freaking mess the whole time. I accused him of being far more concerned about the car than he was about me. He didn’t deny it.”
The story makes her laugh, as I hoped it would.
“Let’s give it a whirl.” I point to the key, and she turns it, starting the car. “Now put it in Drive.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Positive. Take me for a ride, sweetheart.” I add a wink and a smile to remind her of the last time I said those words to her, and she blushes adorably.
We do a hundred laps around the parking lot, and as expected, she’s a cautious, conscientious driver. I suppose that’s the benefit of learning at twenty-three rather than at sixteen when you’re too stupid to know how many ways this activity can get you killed. Natalie has been an adult since she was fifteen, and comes at driving with adult sensibilities.
“What do you think?” I ask her after an hour of driving in circles. “Want to take to the road?”
“Like the actual road with other cars? I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“Sure you are. You’ll do great.” I signal to the SUV to let the security guys know we’re leaving.
“Flynn, seriously, this is not a good idea.”
I lean over to kiss her cheek. “It’s a great idea. My parents are expecting us for a late lunch, and we need to get going.” I point to the parking lot exit.
She grits her teeth and aims the car in the direction I’ve indicated. What should be a twenty-minute ride to Beverly Hills takes forty minutes as Natalie drives so slowly that it’s all I can do not to lose it laughing as one car after another goes by us with angry drivers flashing the bird at my girl.
“People here are mean,” she says, breaking a long silence.
“I think it’s more that they expect the other cars on the road to at least drive the speed limit.”
“I can hear you mocking me, and don’t think I won’t remember that later when you’re wanting to get your hands on me.”
“I would never mock you, sweetheart.”