I give Cole a wry smile. “Tricky to drive, huh?” He just smiles back.
I ease lightly out of the gas station. In fact, I wait until there are no cars in sight before I turn onto the street. I take a side glance at Cole, who looks amused at the whole situation. I maneuver very slowly through town, and a couple of cars honk at me. I’m not sure if it’s because we are driving a Ferrari or because I’m going so slow. I’m going with the first—that they’re overwhelmed by seeing such an awesome car in their town—yeah right, who am I kidding?
Driving Fancy Shmancy makes me wish I had a nice car. Oh man, I don’t even have a car. This makes me sigh.
“What is it?” Cole puts a hand on my leg.
“Oh nothing, sorry, just realizing I snagged me a husband in Vegas, but I don’t have a car.” I smile back at Cole.
“Oh, Cookie, you’re now the co-owner of twelve cars.”
“What?” I jerk my head over to Cole, taking the steering wheel with me.
“Whoa, Cookie.”
“I’m good,” I say, straightening out the Ferrari on the road.
“You’re sure.”
“Yep. You own twelve cars?”
“Yes, we own twelve cars.”
“Does that include the Escalade?
“No, that’s a business car.”
“I’m thinking of selling a few, and really, we should look at buying you a sedan to drive around. Maybe one like you were going to buy at the car auction.”
“Sure, okay. If you don’t mind your wife driving around in a Crown Victoria, that used to be an undercover police car.”
Cole roars with laughter. “That’s the car you were going to buy?”
“Hey, it was a great deal. It only had forty thousand miles on it. It was fully loaded with leather interior, and it only cost three grand. Not like this car that cost what, a hundred thousand dollars?”
Cole is still laughing. “Try two hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars.”
My whole body goes rigid. This car cost more than my house, my education, my entire life put together. I suddenly feel like I’ve been burned, and I take my hands off the steering wheel.
“Whoa, whoa, Cookie.” Cole grabs the wheel. “It’s okay. It’s only a car and only money, hands on the steering wheel, baby.”
I put my hands back at exactly two and ten o’clock, taking a deep breath. I will not crash this car—oh my freaking hell—I’m going to crash this car.
“You’re doing great. We’ll pull over in McGill if you don’t want to drive anymore.”
I’m almost too afraid to talk. I squeak out an “okay,” with a nod.
“It’s okay, Kate.” Cole pushes a few wispy hairs behind my ear.
But I glimpse behind me to see the bright blue and red lights of a police cruiser on my tail. I look down at the speedometer, afraid I’m speeding, but it says I’m only going forty. I grip the steering wheel tighter and ease off the gas pedal. My mouth gets dry. I think I may puke. I glance at Cole, who gives me his mega-watt smile, and I sigh, releasing some of my fear.
“Pull over. It will be fine.”
I maneuver the car at a creepy, crawly pace, easing to a stop on the side of the highway.
Cole and I watch the state patrolman cautiously approach the car. I look up at him through my window, waiting for him to say something, instead he taps on the window. I screech with surprise, my foot coming off the brake and because I do not know how to turn the car off, it lurches forward and dies.
“Sorry, so sorry,” I say to the officer. Who taps on the window again. I start pushing buttons on the door panel. I lock and unlock the doors twice. I hit the button that rolls down Cole’s window. Finally, I manage to hit the button for my window. Which is seriously stupid that he wants the window down. We’re in a convertible with the top down.