Grave Apparel (63 page)

“What do you care what people
would
say? What
anyone
would
say?”
He
stood
there,
looking
impossibly
handsome
with his dark curls
falling
over
his forehead and his
eyes
look ing at her full of amusement. That
was
a good question.
She’d
have
to think about it.

“Well,
I
don’t
know
exactly.”

“You’re
my girl,
aren’t
you?
You
think I
want
you
walking
the streets unprotected?”

“But
it’s
a
car
,
Vic!
I
can’t
just
take—”

He put his arm around her and steered her to the
driver’s
side
door
and
opened
it.
“Why
don’t
you
check
it
out?
It
has
a
few
extras.
Let me
show
you.
Try
out the
sheepskins.”

In
a
mild
state
of
shock,
Lacey
eased
herself
onto
the
sheepskincovered
seat.
Her
hands
slid
over
the
steering
wheel and adjusted the
rearview
mirror.
She
moved
the seat and noticed that it
fit
her
very
well. That
Vic
Donovan
was
a
clever
guy.
But a
car
?

“I
installed
a
GPS
navigation
system,”
Vic
said.
“That
little
screen on the
dash.”

“To
keep
track of me?” she said.

“I
was
thinking so you
won’t
get lost,
but
keeping
track of you is a better
idea.”

“A
stereo?” Her
fingers
ran
over
the
shiny
buttons.
“Does it
work?”

“It
better,
I just installed it. This thing came with an eight track.
They
didn’t
have
CD players back then,
but
now
it does.
Brandnew
airconditioning
too.”

She gazed up at him, her
eyes
very
wide.
“How
can
I
possi
bly accept this?” Her moral sense
was
deeply conflicted. This was like a car
guy’s
equivalent of a marriage proposal and a
diamond
ring,
but
she
wasn’t
about to say that. And the
car

without
the marriage proposal
was
like—a
proposition?
Or
is
that
just
my
mother
talking?

“Honey,
it’s
just an old
car,”
he said with a grin.

“An
adorable old perfect vintage BMW!
With
a
brandnew
stereo!
And
air!
And
sheepskins!
Lord,
these
feel
good,
are
these made from real sheep?”

“Merry
Christmas.”
He
leaned
against
the
car
and
smiled,
peering into the
window
at
her.
“So you
like
it.”

“ ‘Merry Christmas’?” She
was
horrified.

He held back his
laughter.
“What did you think I
was
getting you for Christmas?”

“I
don’t
know,
a
sweater,
or a CD, or something.
You
know.”
“Oh,
Lacey.”
Now
he
was
laughing. “Come on. And I did get you a CD, by the
way.
It’s
in the
glove
box. Ella Fitzgerald singing Christmas carols. Gotta
have
something to try out the
new
stereo.”

“Well,
what am I supposed to get
you
now?
A yacht?!” She
was
dumbfounded. What indeed? A leather
jacket,
even
one by
Bentley,
seemed so
insignificant
now.
And a nice
jacket
would
be pushing her
budget,
even
before
she’d
bought
two
unantici pated little
puffy
parkas.

“How
about the image of you behind the wheel?”
Vic
pulled her out of the car and kissed
her.
“And
you are making
our
Christmas dessert.
I’ll
take
a slice of that
legendary
pecan pie
cake.”

“Are
you making fun of me?”

“No.
You’re
all I
want
for Christmas. I
have
you,
Lacey,
and
that’s
enough. Unless I scared you
off
with
this.”
He held her
tightly.
“After
all,
you’ve
been
known
to bolt when men get se rious about
you.”

“That’s
not true!” It
was
sort of true,
but
she
didn’t
want
to admit it. She
couldn’t
look at him.

“It
was
all
over
Sagebrush when that
cowboy
asked
you to marry him.
You
bolted
like
a
spooked
deer.”

“He told the whole
town
he proposed! Everyone in
town
knew
I said no. I
couldn’t
stay after
that.”
The man
she’d
been seeing then, a
rancher,
not
just a
cowboy,
had
wanted
to
keep
her
with
him
forever
in
Sagebrush,
Colorado.
She
couldn’t
imagine
being
embalmed
in
a
barren,
claustrophobic
little
boom
town
where
the
temperature
often
touched
forty
below
in
the
winter.
And he
wasn’t
the right guy for her to be embalmed

with
anyway.
Lacey
told
the
cowboy
no,
and
then
she
hot
footed it out of
town.
It
would
have
been too
awful
to
stay,
she thought.
For
both of them.
Vic
was offlimits
at the time, being just barely separated from his wife and in the process of getting a
divorce.
So she left Sagebrush behind and headed east.

“You’re
not going to bolt on me, are you?” She certainly felt
like
bolting.
“It’s
a
car,
Vic!”

“Yup,
it sure is. Are we back to that?” He sighed and folded his arms around
her.

“You’re
so casual about this.
Have
you
given
cars to other
women?”
Did he
make
a habit of this? And if he did, what kind of car did he
give
the last one?!

“You’re
the
first.”
He
kissed
her
again.
“But
if
this
works,
hey,
who
knows.”
The Bimmer
was growing
on
her.
“Knowing
that you
have
a car that
works
is important to me,
Lacey.
A re liable
car,
but
with something special, a car that
fits
you, a car that suits you. A car as cute and classy as you.
Well,
nearly as cute,
anyway.”

“A
BMW.”
It told
Lacey
that
Vic
was
pretty serious about this relationship. A guy
doesn’t
give
away
a vintage BMW to get a date. She felt
warm
and cared for and scared to death at the same time.

Nadine chose that moment to pop through the door from the
kitchen
to
the
garage.
“Haven’t
you
given
her
that
old
car
yet?”
she said.
Vic
sighed.

Lacey
gaped
at
his
mother.
“Were
you
in
on
this,
Nadine?”
“I didn’t turn
any
wrenches,
Lacey,
but
let’s
just say
not
much
gets past me
here, especially in
my
own
garage,”
Nadine
said.
“It’s
cold
out
here,
why
don’t
we
go
inside
and
have
some
eggnog
while you
give
her the
keys?”

Lacey
was
certain she
looked
like
a deer caught in the head
lights.
Vic
suggested
a
test
drive
before
their
eggnog.
She
looked
at the
car.
It really
was
adorable. It must
have
been a lot of
work.
It
would
be incredibly rude to turn it
down.
Maybe if
she
drove
the
car
her
feelings
would
sort
themselves
out.
Christmas
was
still weeks
away.
Surely she still had time to de
cide?
She
realized
she’d
taken
the
keys
from
Vic’s
hand.
It
wouldn’t
hurt her to
take
a test
drive.
Maybe up to
Shaw
to look
for
Jasmine
again.

“Let’s
hit the road,
cowboy,”
she said.
“You
said
there’s
a CD in that
glove
box?”

Lacey
Smithsonian’s
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