My favorite book lay open in front of me, and my fingers moved steadily over the raised dots, but I read nothing. I checked my watch face for the fifth time. He still had five minutes before our appointed time to meet arrived.

I was sitting on a seat very close to the large windows facing west because it didn’t manage to filter out all the sounds from the car park. I sighed and returned my fingers to the dots.

Two minutes later I heard the engine of an old truck stop outside. My heart started pounding. I placed my hands on my lap and listened carefully.

Old vehicles have an interesting sound, unhampered by computers or gadgets. An ancient vehicle that has been very well-maintained has an even more unique sound, somewhere between a roar and a purr. There is a solidness to it that fulfills the old saying: ‘They don’t make ‘em like they used to.’

Kit’s truck had that sound.

It was obviously very old, but lovingly cared for. A fact that didn’t surprise me in the least. An old truck with a well-maintained engine seemed a perfect fit for what I knew about him so far.

What did surprise me was how different he was than during our first meeting.

“Hello, Lara,” he said formally from a few feet away.

“Howdy doody to you too, Mr. Carson,” I said with a grin.

“Shall we go?” I think I threw him some, but his voice was softer and friendly.

“Absolutely,” I said, closing my book with a snap and standing up. “I’m always glad when I get to stop pretending to read.”

He chuckled, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

The air around me moved as he turned.

“Do you say everything that comes into your head?” he asked as we walked towards the front door.

Our steps echoed in the empty space. “Mostly. Why?”

“Most people filter out the things that they think might embarrass themselves or others.”

“Oh, I do too. You have no idea what I really thought when I first met you.”

“See what I mean?”

“No, that doesn’t count,” I argued. “It would have if I’d actually told you what I was thinking.”

He laughed again and held open the door.

“Good day, Hannah,” I called out as we walked out into the freezing cold.

“Have a good night, Lara,” her voice rang out as the door closed behind us.

I followed him to his truck. I sort of already knew where it was, but thought it best to let him lead. It wouldn’t do to let him know I was literally stalking him by the window. He opened the door, and after feeling the height of the seat, I hopped in, as nimble as a goat. Well, that’s what my Ma used to call me.

A stubborn, nimble goat.

The truck was toasty warm. The seats were wide and comfortable, and covered with butter-soft leather. I ran my palm over it as he got in beside me and closed the door. His arrival changed the air in the truck. Suddenly it was bristling with electricity. I wondered if he sensed it.

“I love old vehicles,” I said, to quell the thousand butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

He paused. “How do you know it’s old?”

“The sound of the engine.” I grinned at him. “Don’t tell me you can’t hear all that gorgeousness purring away under the hood.”

“Yes ma’am.” His voice took on a note of pride. “I put a lot of time into this old girl.”

“Well, Sir. It shows.” I don’t know what it was about him, but he actually made me want to pretend I was cold and snuggle up to him. Even the small talk we exchanged about his vehicle had undercurrents of something dangerous swirling underneath. It was weird and exciting … and scary.

As he drove out of the library parking lot and onto the street, he said, “I got your tea.”

“Thank you! I’m looking forward to it.”

Obviously not a man of many words and he subsided into a deep silence after that. Though I tried to start a conversation from time to time, he had reverted back to his hard and tough exterior and all I got were a few grunts and almost unintelligible mutters. He was turning into quite the psychological experiment. Still, I wasn’t unhappy with the silence. I sat perfectly still in the seat, listening to the sound of the engine and the world rushing by outside the window.

The drive out to the house didn’t take as long as it did when I was with Elaine; perhaps the knot of nervousness in my stomach was not there this time. The winding curves told me he was taking back roads.

He didn’t say another word until we pulled into the drive. Then it was simply, “stay right there” as he got out of his side and came around to mine.

By the time he got there, I was standing outside the truck.

“I told you to wait,” he said, an edge to his voice.

“If you want me to wait next time, ask politely,” I told him.

“And only if you are opening the door because you are a gentleman. Not because I’m blind.”

There was a moment of silence. He was obviously taken aback, but his response was very measured. “I have no doubt you are quite capable of getting out of the car yourself. I wasn’t opening the door for you because you’re blind, but because the ground right now is slick as warm owl shit, and I damn near busted my ass twice this morning.”

“Warm owl shit?” I laughed so hard it hurt.

He took my hand as I was still howling and began to lead me to the steps. My feet suddenly went out from under me, and I stopped laughing pretty quick then.

“See?” he said.

Neither of us spoke again until we were in the house. It was way too treacherous to do anything but try to stay upright.