Page 41 of Strawberry Cake

“You have to keep me from embarrassing myself with my lack of car knowledge.”

That conjured a smile on his face. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She closed the distance between them, guiding him in for a kiss by a finger under his chin. Though Decan didn’t need much convincing. He followed her, the kiss soft and full of appreciation. This was a huge step for him, and she was over the moon to be chosen to be by his side.

After breakfast they got ready, his eyes nearly popping out when she stepped out of the bathroom. She spun around for him, her cheeks hurting from the grin on her lips.

“Do you like it?”

“You look stunning. But I thought you said you didn’t like dresses.”

“It’s not a dress.” She stuck her hands in the pockets, pulling the fabric taut and revealing that it actually was a jumpsuit. “It’s a one piece.”

“You look like a snack.”

Hope walked over to where he sat. “And I love when you show off your tattoos with those sexy V-neck shirts.” She leaned down and kissed him, her fingers snatching his hair tie out, letting his curls fall over his shoulders. “Much better. Let’s hope I can fight off all the ladies once they lay eyes on my man.”

“Yourman?”

“Who else’s would you be?”

Decan groaned, squirming. “Fuck, I’m hard again.”

And now she was blushing. “Sorry.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled her into his lap, his fingers trailing over her bare legs. “Don’t be.”

When they pulled up to the meetup, Decan was visibly tense. The moment he was settled in his wheelchair, Hope was massaging the back of his neck. She let him take the lead as they made their way to the parking lot filled with luxurious cars—ones Hope was afraid to even get too close to.

“Is Marco showing off his car?”

“Yeah, they have an open section.”

“Does he know you’re here?”

Decan shook his head. “I didn’t want him to be disappointed if I chickened out.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hair. “You’re doing great.”

Decan took a deep breath, seeming to inhale her words before showing her the way to some less expensive—but no less supped up—cars. When she saw Marco, she waved and his jaw dropped. He stared as they came closer, almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Hi, there,” she greeted, amused at his dumbfounded expression.

“H-hi,” he stuttered, his eyes flickering between them.

“I think we short-circuited him,” she laughed, gesturing to the car next to him. “Is this yours?”

“Y-yeah.”

The car was an old Mustang that Marco seemed to have poured his whole heart and soul into—along with his life savings. “So, this is your fancy car and the other is just for your day to day life?”

“What the fuck, man?” Marco blurted. “Yearsof me begging you to come back and five minutes after she waltzes in—”

“Stop right there or we’re leaving,” Hope interrupted. “I didn’t ask him to come, he wanted to. If you start giving him shit, we can turn around and never look back.”

Marco stared at her for a moment, then took a breath and ran his hand over his face. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” she chirped and walked around his car to look inside. “So, you do it all yourself?”