“I want to see it. V8 engine? Blackout hood? Front spoiler?”
Her grin is infectious. “Don’t forget the rear deck wing. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll let you drive it while we’re in LA for the premiere.”
“I’d like that. How did you get into cars?”
“When I was fifteen, I played the daughter of a race car driver in a movie. Every night after filming, the crew let me drive the cars around. That’s how I learned to drive, actually.”
“And thus, started your love of cars?”
“Yep. I don’t know much about cars, just that I like them. Some girls like shoes, others like purses, I like muscle cars.” She shrugs.
“What’s your favorite thing about your Mustang?”
“The way it sounds,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “There’s this rumble when I press on the gas. It’s not too soft, not too loud, but it’s powerful, and when I’m driving, everyone stares.”
My guess is they’re staring at the girl more than they are the car. But I smile. That’s my favorite thing about cars too. There’s nothing better than the rumble of a powerful motor.
“You do realize Gray restores classic cars, right?” Nick says.
“Oooh. Found it.” Jessa holds her phone up. On the screen is a picture of Nora’s car. She’s squatting down in front of it and smiling the biggest smile. “She won’t let me drive it.”
“You don’t have the best driving record,” Nora fires back.
Jessa sticks out her tongue, and Nora laughs.
“I know you restore classic cars, but we’ve never talked much about it.”
“I’ll restore anything with a motor, but most of my clients have classic cars. I’ve done a few motorcycles and one boat.”
“How long does it take you to do one?”
“Depends on how much work it needs. Some of them need a complete overhaul and it takes me several months, and others take just a few weeks.”
“You’re too modest,” Nick says. “Grayson’s waiting list is years long. He’s crazy talented.”
Nora’s eyes dance. “I’d love to watch you work sometime.”
And just like that, the knot in my stomach loosens.
“You’re welcome in the shop anytime.”
“How was your food, guys?” Allison says, grabbing our stack of dirty plates. “Did we save room for dessert?”
“Ice cream for the kids, please,” Nora says, earning another excited whoop from Jack and Emma.
The waitress returns a few minutes later with a scoop of ice cream for each kid. She passes them out and then looks at us. “Are you ready for the bill?”
“Yes, please. Put it all on one, and I’ll get it,” Nick says.
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re not paying for me and my kids. Put all of us on a separate tab,” I say, motioning toward my kids and Nora, who is laughing away as she talks with Jessa and not paying a bit of attention.
After Nick and I pay the bills, he drops an arm around Jessa’s shoulder. “This was nice. We don’t go out with other people nearly enough.”
She jabs him in the side. “Are you saying I’m boring?”
“Not at all.” He laughs. “I’m saying we need to start socializing more.”
“This was fun. Aside from the occasional impromptu dinner at your house, I haven’t gone out with friends probably since Emma was born.”