Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) by Nancy Naigle

that some kind of metaphor? Noah pressed his lips together. “I own fourteen cars. But I have space for twenty.”
    “Four—” Megan put down her wineglass. “Fourteen? I have one car taking up a third of my whole house right now. I can’t imagine that times fourteen. That’s a car lot. And in California? That had to cost a fortune.”
    “In some towns, I guess fourteen cars could be a car lot.” Her animated reaction made him smile. “So I love cars. There’s worse things. And I guess most people have one car, but it’s my business too.”
    “Well, technically I have two,” Megan said. “The one I drive, and then the one that is now unexpectedly taking up residency in my house. But then I didn’t seek that one out.”
    “How’s that? Is there a car Santa I’ve been missing out on? Because I’d make the nice list for sure.”
    “No. My daddy recently passed away. He didn’t leave me any of his money, but he did leave me his favorite car. To his young wife’ s chagrin. ”
    “I can understand that.”
    “The young wife part, or the car?”
    “The car. Definitely not the wife . . . young or otherwise. That he left you the car says a lot more than money about his love for you.” That was the kind of man he understood.
    “It’s a 1958 DeSoto Adventurer and that thing takes up a lot of space. Even in my house. And I’m fairly certain I have one of the bigger garages around since my house used to be a gas station.”
    But he already knew that. And he knew exactly how much space that car took up. “Nearly two hundred twenty-one inches bumper-to-bumper you’ve got there.” Had he just said that out loud?
    “Impressive when you put it that way.”
    “Oh, there’s a lot more than that impressive about that car.”
    “I’m surprised you’ve ever even heard of it.”
    “It’s my business.” He pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket and slid a card across the table. “I opened California Dreaming Restoration in a two bay garage. Now I have over twenty-five thousand square feet. We cater to the richest car enthusiasts in the world.”
    “Impressive.” She ran her finger across the raised print on the card.
    “I like the way your eyes dance when you talk about that car.” Why was he wondering what her fingers would feel like against his skin? “Do you have any idea what you’ve got on your hands?”
    “Absolutely.” She raised her chin.
    “1958?” Of course, he already knew that from Jackson. An I’d-like-to-thank-the-Academy speech bounced through his mind. She had no idea that she was going to want to sell him this car. But she would. They always did.
    “Convertible.”
    His heart shifted into overdrive. His pulse cranking up to about 140, matching the top speed of that year and model. “Who’d believe a car like that would end up in a small town like this?”
    “Believe it, sugar.” She took a long sip of her wine. “My best memories with my dad were with that car. He loved that more than anything, except for me.”
    Warning flares signaled in Noah’s mind. A daddy’s girl, and her daddy’s car. This may not be as easy as I’d hoped. “No way he’d have left that car to you otherwise. He loved you very much.”
    “Thank you.” She lowered her eyes, then twisted the business card in her hand again.
    He hoped she wasn’t going to cry, because one thing he didn’t do well was women and tears. “I’d love to see your car. Is it in good shape?”
    She looked up. Those dark clouds lifting. “Pristine. Never seen a raindrop.”
    “As it should be.” Her lips were full and pink. Probably from the wine. It wasn’t going to be hard to spend his time with her this week. “You’ve got to take me over to see it.”
    “ Sure, ” she said.
    Noah’s foot danced under the table.
    Angie came over to their table. “Sorry to interrupt, but Megan, I need you to come with me. We’re going to get more wedding party pictures taken for the album.”
    “Okay.” Megan shimmied