Truth or Beard(47)

“Yep.”

“Even the upholstery?”

“Yes. I restored her myself, even the upholstery.”

“Her?” I passed my hand over the bench, touching the leather with newfound respect and reverence now that I knew Duane was responsible for the flawless restoration. Based on this information, I presumed he’d also restored the Mustang I was borrowing.

I was happy to see his smile return as he halted and idled at a stop sign. Duane slid his pretty eyes to mine; I saw echoes of his hot look from the community center, though it appeared to be mostly restrained. “Yes, her. All cars are girls.”

My smile was huge as I was feeling delightfully unsteady under his perusal. “And why is that? Because they’re so pretty, useful, and hardworking?”

Duane’s eyes drifted down my body in an unhurried examination; the spark of heat and appreciation in his gaze made me suspicious of his true thoughts, which were only punctuated by his next words.

“Because when a guy sees a car he likes, all he can think about is getting under the hood or taking her for a ride.”

This time I threw my head back and laughed with gusto and shocked delight. This was the second time he’d done this, surprised me with his audacity. On Thursday, when he’d shown up at my work with the Mustang, I figured he was just trying to get a rise out of me, but now I saw this new banter for what it was. Duane Winston was funny. And a flirt.

In all the years I’d known him, and all the arguments and shouting matches we’d had, I never would have guessed that Duane was this funny. Or a flirt.

Sly? Yes.

Smart? Certainly.

Serious and stern? Undoubtedly.

Funny and flirty? No.

He was full of surprises.

As my laughter lessened and morphed into large grin, I turned in my seat and studied him openly. I had to shake myself a little. Before last Friday, never in my wildest—or strangest—dreams could I have imagined that Duane Winston would ever be interested in me, not because there was something wrong with me, but because he always left me with the impression that I irritated the bejeebus out of him.

Just like I never thought in a million years I’d be so completely drawn to him.

But here I was…

“What? What’s wrong?” He frowned at my examination, sparing me a quick glance as he turned right onto the Parkway.

“Oh, nothing.” I kept staring at him…but not him. I was looking for the Duane I remembered, the one who barely tolerated me, picked verbal sparring matches, and put lizards down my Sunday school dress. “I guess, it’s weird. Right? I mean, you and I grew up together. We used to run around these forests with the other Green Valley kids like a pack of wild animals.”

His subtle smile was back, but this time it looked nostalgic. “So?”

“So, here we are. We’re adults. And we’re out together.”

“We went for a drive on Thursday and you didn’t seem phased by it.”

“Yeah, but this is a date. See, I know you—I could tell anyone who asked that you’re a terrible swimmer, or how you drive too fast, or how you got that scar on your right arm, or that you’re better at baseball than any of your brothers—but I don’t know you. It’s like being on a date with two different people, the boy I knew and the…the,” I stuttered, then paused, stopping myself just in time. A slight rush of embarrassment made my tongue lame because I was about to say, and the sweet, gorgeous man you’ve become.

And that would have been a bizarre thing to say at the beginning of a first date. Honest, but bizarre.

“And the what?” he prompted, sliding his eyes to mine as he came to another straight stretch on the mountain road.

I cleared my throat, my chest a sudden and odd combination of achy and fluttery. “The kid I knew, and the man you’ve become. I don’t know this new you very well. It’s a bit disconcerting to feel confident that I know all about you, but have no idea who you really are.” I glanced down and frowned at my purple nail polish, certain I was making a mess of my thoughts. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

Duane reached over and grabbed one of my hands, sending a warm jolt up my arm and to my ribs.

“You’re explaining things just fine.” He squeezed my fingers and gave me a quick, reassuring smile. “When we were at the lake last week and I told you we’re different now, both of us have changed, that’s what I meant.”

“But don’t you think it’ll be weird?”

“So what? So it’s weird. Weird can be good.”

“We grew up together. I mean, when we were kids I saw you naked like…,” I counted in my head, “three times. Maybe more.”