Mitch shrugged. “It’s no big deal. You’re without a car. I have one in perfect working order, just over there. We can’t have you looking like an amateur, now can we?”
Was he teasing me? It had been so long since he had I was pretty sure I had forgotten what it sounded and looked like.
“Is that such a good idea?” I had to ask it. I had been told to stay away from him. And even though I had no intention of letting Sophie Lanier boss me around, she was still his girlfriend and it had to be his call.
Mitch chewed on the inside of mouth and nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine.” I couldn’t tell if he knew about my run in with Sophie and I wasn’t about to ask him.
“Okay, sounds good,” I said but then narrowed my eyes speculatively. “I don’t have my wallet so I can’t bribe you with food or beer. Or Twizzlers.”
Mitch put his hand on the small of my back to begin steering me towards his car. I tried not to shiver at his touch. I almost succeeded. Almost. Did he notice? I sure hope not. “I’ll take a rain check then,” he said, unlocking the doors with his key fob. “Now get it.”
I got into the passenger side of Mitch’s Jeep, moving a pile of dirty socks and old tennis shoes to the floor. I made a face as I handed him a moldy banana peel. “You still keep your car like this? It’s brand new! But look at it! How many times have I told you that growing penicillin in your car is a bad thing?” I gagged a little.
“How many times have I told you that if you have a problem with it, I’ll be more than happy to let you clean it.” Mitch turned on the engine and started to back out of the parking space.
“Watch out!” I screamed, pointing to the van that was reversing at the same time.
Mitch maneuvered around the other vehicle while laying on his horn and giving the other guy the finger. “Oh my god, I forgot about what a horrible backseat driver you are,” Mitch complained.
I gasped as he took a turn too quickly, driving up over the curb and narrowly missing the mailbox. “And I forgot about what a supremely shit driver you are.”
“Hey, I’ve never been in an accident,” he countered.
“Not one that the police have been called to,” I corrected.
“That tree came out of nowhere,” he argued.
“Yeah it jumped out of the ground and ran into your car. How could I forget?” I remarked dryly.
“Turn on the radio. I don’t want to hear you lecturing me about using my signal before I turn the whole way there,” he grumped but his lips twitched and I knew he wasn’t serious.
“God forbid you follow the rules of the road, Mitch Abrams,” I muttered, trying to cover my smile.
This was an old song and dance. One that we had done a thousand times before.
It felt good.
Like maybe I hadn’t completely lost my best friend.
Sophie could suck it.
I turned on the radio and a familiar song blasted through the speakers. I looked over at him in surprise.
“You still have this CD?” I asked him.
I noticed that his cheeks flushed a peculiar shade of red. As though he were embarrassed at being found out.
“Yeah, well shit pop grows on you after a while,” he replied gruffly.
I felt tingles everywhere.
I had made him a CD with all of my favorite songs years ago after complaining about his general lack of taste when it came to music—his own band not withstanding.
He had grumbled and argued but of course had let me have my way. And he had kept that CD in his player ever since.
I would have assumed after everything that went down he would have thrown it out, along with our friendship.
But he hadn’t.
And that made me all squishy inside.
“Do you know how to get to the botanical gardens?” I asked him once we were on the interstate.
“Yeah, I’ve been there before,” he said, jerking the wheel as he passed a tractor-trailer.
“You’ve been to Blue Ridge Botanical Gardens?” I scoffed.
Mitch’s jaw tightened and he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. What was with the mood shift?
“Uh, well I came out here with Sophie last year,” he muttered, cutting across two lanes of traffic to make the exit.
I slammed against the door as he cut a tight turn down the off ramp which only exacerbated the twisting and turning in my stomach at Mitch’s admission.
Of course he went with his girlfriend. She looks like the let’s-walk-through-gardens-and-skip-through-fields-talking-to-animals kind of chick. I hate her and her stupid let’s go to the botanical gardens in our free time ass.
Wow, that was harsh, even for an internal monologue. Even if I thought she deserved it.
“Oh, okay. Well then at least we won’t get lost,” I remarked brightly. So bright it was like the goddamned sun in the car.
“Have a look on the floor in the backseat, I think there might be a notebook back there,” he said, honking at a VW bug driving down the middle of the road. He rolled down the window and flipped the guy off.
“You really should address your road rage issues,” I told him. I glanced at the floor behind the seat and cringed. “I think something’s moving back there. I’m scared.”
Mitch snorted. “Don’t be such a girl about it. Just look would ya. We’re almost there.”
“If I lose a finger, I’m going to be pissed,” I warned. Mitch rolled his eyes and I forgot about Sophie and my highly unreasonable jealousy.
I twisted in my seat and leaned over the center console. I pushed aside three sweatshirts with questionable stains, an old lunchbox, and a bird feeder made of twigs.
“What in the heck do you have a bird feeder back here for?” I asked, my voice muffled. I looked over my shoulder to find Mitch staring at my ass. Which was right at his eye level. And I was wearing a skirt.
“It’s my mom’s. She was in some kind of art group and thought it would look perfect in Garrett’s yard,” Mitch answered, his voice husky.
I quickly found a green notebook and a pen and pulled myself back up. Mitch chose that moment to take a sharp turn and my butt all but hit him in the face. He put his hand up and braced himself. Against my left ass cheek.
I went completely still, unable to move.
Because Mitch was cupping my bum.
“Uh—” I gulped and he moved his hand like he had been burned.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I should learn to take the toe off huh?” he chuckled uneasily.
I sat back down in my seat and gave him a weak smile, my heart hammering in my chest, making me lightheaded.
“That would probably be a good idea if you want to live to see old age,” I said primly.
Mitch pulled up in front of a colonial style house and killed the engine.
“This is it,” he said, sounding like he was choking. He wouldn’t look at me and I knew it had to do with the whole butt-grabbing thing. Things had gotten weird again, which made me incredibly sad because we had actually been getting along lately.
I climbed out of the car, tucking the notebook and pen into my purse. “Thank you so much for riding to my rescue yet again.” We stood there looking everywhere but at each other. We were so incredibly lame. “Um, well you don’t have to stick around. I can call Viv or Mays when I’m finished and have them come and get me.”
Mitch zipped up his coat and grabbed a stocking cap from the backseat, pulling it down over his dark head. “I’ll tag along if it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t have anywhere to be.”
I smiled, this time with total sincerity. “I’d like that.”
“I just have to walk around and take some pictures and I’ll be finished. I’ll just use my phone and hope they’re good enough,” I said to Mitch an hour later.
The interview with Mrs. Wagner, the director of the botanical gardens went pretty well. She was a lovely lady that answered all of my questions with a smile and plied me with homemade fudge and hot chocolate. She encouraged me and my “man friend”—as she referred to Mitch—to take a stroll around the grounds. The gardens were closing in thirty minutes but she assured me that staff would be around so I could take as long as I needed.