My mind goes to his father, and I figure Ethan’s must be doing the same thing. Is there a product in Frost Industries’s arsenal that would have kept his father alive? I want to ask, but it’s too soon. Too personal. So not my business.
“Does it work?” I ask.
“What?”
“Visualizing the future you want to have? Believing it so much that it becomes a kind of truth to you?”
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” he says after a moment. “But that’s a perfect description of what I’m talking about. ”
“I can’t take credit for it. ” The campus counselor I saw once a week for my entire freshman year said those words to me every time she ended a session with me. She told me I just had to visualize the future I wanted, free from the pain of the past, and that I would have it one day. It wouldn’t be easy, it wouldn’t be quick. But I would get there.
I don’t know if I ever believed her, but I took her advice. Started planning for the life I wanted instead of the one I had. And here I am now, studying what I want to study. Interning where I want to intern. Wearing a flamingo hat and sitting next to the most intriguing man I’ve ever known. Yeah, things could be a lot worse.
“Do you really want to know how I handle the pressure?” Ethan asks me as he makes a couple of turns in quick succession.
“Of course I do. ” I find myself wanting to know everything about him. Everything special, everything mundane. Everything that makes him who he is.
One more turn and then we’re cruising up the street we walked down together two nights ago. I recognize the houses, especially the chrome-and-glass monstrosity that Tori so admired.
“We’re going to your house?” A shiver of unease works its way down my spine. I ignore it, refusing to live my whole life in the shadow of a few bad memories.
“I had planned on taking you to dinner and then home, but since you seem genuinely interested in how I keep things in perspective…”
“I am. ”
“Then, yes, we’re going to my house. ”
Seconds later, he makes the left turn into his driveway. He mutters to himself as he plugs the gate code in, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that it’s a sore spot with him. I can see how it would be. Ethan isn’t a big fan of hiding behind walls—he’s open about himself and his business, and always has been. So I can imagine that an eight-foot privacy fence and a huge iron gate would grate on him.
Which raises the question, why have them?
“The insurance makes me,” he answers tersely as he pulls the car up the driveway and into a six-car garage. One where every bay is taken.
He doesn’t give me time to stop and admire his babies, even though the garage is loaded with some real beauties. He’s got a bright red Porsche Panamera Hybrid, an electric-blue BMW ActiveHybrid 750, and a Lexus LS 600h L. Talk about taking environmentally friendly to a whole new level—Ethan has four of the greenest, most expensive cars in the whole world sitting in his garage. Five if I’m right in guessing that the black Porsche Cayenne in the last bay is also a hybrid. Which makes the only non-environmentally-friendly car in the whole place the yellow Ferrari 250 GTO that I’m actually standing close enough to touch. Not that I would dare.
“Is that what I think it is?” I whisper, leaning down to get a closer look. I nearly whimper as I see the distinctive interior, then clasp my hands behind my back so I’m not tempted to touch it. Or try to steal it.
“You really do know cars. ” Ethan sounds surprised, but I’m too busy trying not to lick his Ferrari to get offended.
“You don’t have to ‘know’ cars to know of this one. There were only thirty-six of them ever made. I mean, as long as you don’t count all the imposters that came afterward. ”
“It doesn’t bite, you know. You’re welcome to touch it. ”
The urge to do just that is a throbbing need inside me. I want to lift the hood, to peer inside it and see if it’s really as beautifully built as all the magazines and websites say. But I’m afraid once I get started pawing at it, it’ll be hours before Ethan can drag me away.
“No, that’s okay. ” I try not to sound too reluctant. “I’d rather have my question answered. ”
“Don’t look so sad. There’ll be other chances. ” This time when he puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me to the house, I barely startle. I’m getting used to being touched by him.
Too bad I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad one.
“Where did you find her?” I ask, craning my head around for one last look at the Ferrari. She gleams under the garage’s recessed lighting.
“I’m not sure if I should be pleased or insulted that you’re a lot more impressed by my car than you are by me. ”
I don’t bother denying the obvious. But I do say, “You should be pleased. Most women wouldn’t have a clue how awesome it is that you own one of those babies. ”
He narrows his eyes, contemplates my words. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. ”