Page 73 of Royally Matched
“I like it,” I reply stiffly.
He seems to remember I’m also in the car. His eyesrove over me, making me suddenly shy. “This is a different look for you.”
“Good or bad?” I try to keep the vulnerability from my voice. Without my Princess Sofia armor, I can’t help but feel exposed, even when it’s just Marco and me.
Or perhaps especially when it’s just Marco and me.
“You look beautiful. Different, but beautiful.” His lips lift into his knee-weakening smile, and I grip the steering wheel, trying my best to ignore his effect on me. Of course it’s a losing battle. Those hummingbirds in my belly begin to flap their wings as though they’re at a Taylor Swift concert.
I lift my chin as I pull the car out into the quiet street. “Sorry I’m a little late,” I tell him to move the conversation along as he buckles his seat belt.
“Two minutes late. I think I’ll survive,” he replies lightly. “Is this a Pagoda model from the late-sixties, or an earlier one?”
“It’s a Pagoda,” I answer confidently because I might not know that much about cars, but I do know the model of this car. I chose it after all.
“What year is it? ’68? ’69?”
“1968.”
“Nice. Is it equipped with the original inline-six engine, or has it been modified?”
I regard him blankly. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“Is it in original condition, or has it undergone any restorations?”
“Marco, all I know is I love this car, even if the air conditioning is non-existent and it only fits me and one other person.”
“I’m glad I’m your other person today. This car is a total classic.”
“It is.”
He rubs his hands together, grinning. “Ready for our big adventure?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, coming to a stop at a red light.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“What sort of favor?”
“Could you rev your engine for me?”
“Why ever on earth do you want me to rev my engine?”
“Because you might not have noticed but this is one sexy car, and you should rev sexy cars as often as possible. In fact, it should be a law. Perhaps you could ask your parents to see to it?”
I laugh, but it comes out as a girly giggle. I clear my throat in embarrassment.
“Just one rev. You know you want to,Principessa.”
“I’m not in the habit of revving my car, but why not?” I put the car in neutral and press my sneaker clad foot on the accelerator briefly, the engine leaping into action, emitting a deep growl that escalates and escalates to a vibrating roar. It’s thrilling and I feel like a rebel, waking the neighborhood up.
“Come on. You can do better than that.”
“I’m certain your neighbors will think that’s quite enough.”
“They need to get up and get on with their days. See it as community service.”
“Okay.” I press my foot tentatively down once more and the engine springs to life.