The wind whipped against Quentin’s face as he picked up his agility with increasing speed. The frosty temperature should’ve kept Quentin inside his gym, doing jump aerobics or lifting weights. But those exercises wouldn’t suffice with the adrenaline he required now. It was something only the rush of an accelerated sprint would do, and because of that, Quentin flew in a blur down the winding park pathway.

Quentin had taken a red-eye flight back from Nicaragua, and his contact with Phoebe was nonexistent. Before she walked away from him on the beach, her words had been now or never. But her demands were unreasonable. It was no easier on him than it was on her. And now, Quentin presumed she’d stop communicating with him altogether. All of his text messages had gone unresponsive, and his phone calls ignored. Quentin had never called a woman so much in his life, and it bothered him to shame that he did now. Quentin wasn’t interested in wallowing about it. He’d come to terms long ago that Phoebe owned him; so why then was it so hard for him to have the conversation with his friends.

They were essentially family, and people changed every day. They could give him the benefit of the doubt. But it’s their sister. Quentin’s speed increased, and he ran to clear his mind of the heavy thoughts, but they were unyielding, determined to distract him at all costs. His mind was far away when Quentin stepped into the street without looking.

A horned blared, and Quentin jumped back just as the car that threatened to take him out eased to a stop at his side. The driver’s door opened, and a brunette stepped out and turned to him on the heel of her boots.

“Oh my God!” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I apologize for stepping in the street, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” He offered her a languid smile. “Forgive me.”

The brunette smiled softly. “You’re forgiven.” Her smile held. “I’m Amber.”

Amber reached out to him for a handshake, and Quentin accepted it.

“I know you’ve had better days, Amber. I’m Q.”

“Well it’s not every day that I almost run over a gorgeous guy.” She blushed. “It’s a good thing you have good reflexes.”

Quentin nodded. “True that.”

Amber pulled a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Do you mind if I buy you a cup of coffee or something? I feel bad for almost running you over.”

“That’s not necessary. It was my fault.”

With an air of boldness, Amber said, “I’d still like to buy you a cup of coffee. We’ll call it a thank you for jumping out of my way cup of coffee.”

Quentin chuckled as Amber laughed.

“Sure,” he said, “why not. There’s a coffee shop across the street.”

“I’ll just pull my car off the road,” she said, turning to reclaim her seat.

Quentin took another step back and watched as Amber pulled the old school vehicle over to park at a meter. The shine on the classic car’s exterior sparkled in the sunlight, and being a collector of conventional vehicles, Quentin found himself having an appreciation for the vintage automobile.

Amber stepped out of the car at the same time Quentin approached her door.

“Be careful crossing this street,” he said. “I think some of these drivers stay angry, and they might not be as forgiving as you.”

Amber’s smile grew. “If anything, they’ll run me over for blocking traffic.”

Quentin chuckled. “True that.”

They made it to the other side without so much as a scratch.

“Ah ha, see that,” Amber said. “I guess today’s my lucky day.”

Quentin nodded. “So it would seem. How about this window seat?” he said, motioning to the far-right corner.

“Yeah, that works.”

Amber strutted toward the table, and it was the first time Quentin took a real look at her. She was draped in a double-breasted coat, and the pants she wore put him in the mind of a certain attorney he knew. Just like that, his thoughts traveled back to Phoebe. It was beginning to become his vice.

They sat down at the table, and Amber removed her coat. A server approached with a notepad and pen in hand.

“Good morning, I’m Daphne, I’ll be your waitress today, what can I start you off with?”

“Hi Daphne, I’m Amber and this is Quentin, we both would like a cup of coffee, black, with two sugars,” she finished.

Quentin’s eyes stretched in surprise.

“Anything else?” Daphne asked.

“No, thank you,” Amber said.

Daphne strolled away from the table with an extra pep in her step.

Quentin cleared his throat. “I was unaware that you knew who I was, Amber.”

Amber turned her head to the side in thought. “You didn’t tell me your name when we were outside?”

“I’m sure I said my name was Q.”

Amber tossed her hands up. “You got me; you have a popular face, Mr. Davidson. You shouldn’t be so surprised when people know who you are.”

Something about Amber was off. Quentin was regretting this cup of coffee.

“You told the server how I take my coffee,” he pointed out.

Amber nodded slowly. “Yeah… I did.” She dipped her head in her shoulders, feeling embarrassed. “You’re feeling creeped out, aren’t you?”

Quentin didn’t lie. “Just a little bit.”

“Oh my God,” Amber said. “Okay, so it’s not what you think. I read an interview you did in Men’s Health magazine this year. You talked about everything from your upbringing to how you became the fitness guru that you are. You even talked about how you like your coffee.” Amber smiled sheepishly again. “You can run now if you’re feeling the need to. I’d understand.”

The server bounced back over with coffee for them both, and Quentin pulled out his American Express and offered it over to the clerk.

“I’ll be right back with your receipt,” she said, bouncing away.

“I was going to pay for that,” Amber said. “I was the one who asked if I could buy you a cup of coffee.”

Quentin pulled the mug to his lips and blew softly before responding. “I don’t mind.” He glanced out the window and motioned to the vehicle. “That’s a nice classic. A 1967 Shelby 427 Cobra Roadster.”

Amber perked up. “And you have a love for old school cars, that’s right,” she said.

Quentin thought back to that interview. The information he’d revealed seemed harmless enough. But Amber had a way of bringing to light why disclosing information was important to remember.

“You have an excellent memory, Amber.”

Amber beamed. “That’s a good thing.”

Quentin nodded. “True that. You have me at a disadvantage.”

“How so?”

“You know things about me, but I know nothing about you.”

Amber gave a sly smile. “Well, what would you like to know?”

Quentin took another sip of his coffee.

“Why don’t you tell me how you ended up with that beauty out there,” he said, pointing to the Cobra Roadster.

 Amber lit up with glee and went into a full conversation about the car’s original leather interior and 4-speed transmission. Quentin could barely focus on her words when his thoughts traveled back to Phoebe. Like a main attraction, his mind sought images of her deep brown smooth skin and the dark areolas that puckered her breasts. His tongue moved from one corner of his mouth to the other as images from their passionate kisses to the way she jumped into his arms after she’d searched him out slid through his mind.

Phoebe affected him with such a throbbing force that he’d almost indulged in the most precious part of her. Had they moved forward, Quentin would’ve buried himself, completely immersed and all of the built-up emotion he’d held back over the years would’ve exploded in the course of their lovemaking. However, the admission of Phoebe’s virginity had stopped him cold and left him discombobulated, to say the least. It added an extra layer of difficulty on him because as much as he wanted her, Quentin didn’t know if he could entirely trust himself when it came to matters of the heart. Phoebe wasn’t a one-night stand. Nor could she ever be someone he played around with for a while until he had his fill. Phoebe was a trophy, the kind you kept polished and revered with a tender appreciation. She was a one of a kind, like a classic you kept in pristine condition.

It was then that Quentin knew the real reasons for his hesitation. Sure he respected his friends’ wishes and wanted to stay clear of their sister, but honestly, in the back of Quentin’s mind, he had to wonder if their reservations were reasonable.

Amber chirped for about thirty minutes before Quentin glanced down at his wristwatch.

“Oh, I’m sure you have someplace you need to be as important as you are,” she said.

“Actually, I have a meeting in an hour and have lingered longer than I should’ve. Thank you for the coffee, Amber,” he said, rising from his seat.

Amber stood at the same time. “I should be the one thanking you. I didn’t pay for the coffee, remember?”

Quentin tilted his head in silent agreement. Amber pulled a ten-dollar bill from her change purse.

“How about I leave the tip?” she said, tossing the bill down.

They strolled away from the table, and the doorbell chimed as they exited. “You paid more for the tip than I paid for the coffee,” he said.

Amber shrugged. “I know you’re a millionaire an all, but I can’t let you show me out.” She laughed, paying no mind to her footing as she stepped off the sidewalk backwards and continued to speak to him cheerfully. A Volkswagen shot down the street seconds away from running her over. Instead of calling out her name, Quentin moved quickly to pull her back but wasn’t faster than the speeding vehicle.

“Aaaah!” Amber squealed as Quentin shoved her out from in front of the oncoming collision. There was only a second to spare before the impact with the sailing automobile. It hit him at the waist, and his body rolled up the front, smashing hard against the windshield.

“Oh my God!” Amber shouted, rising to her feet to run over to Quentin. The horn inside the Volkswagen blasted as the driver’s face rested on the steering wheel. Neither the driver nor Quentin moved as everything around them stopped, and any nearby pedestrians called the police. Amber called out to Quentin, but he was none the wiser as he was out cold.