Damon
Brenda’s face lit up when we drove the Volvo back onto the lot.
The paperwork was quick, but for once, I didn’t rush it or hand it off to someone else. Wren signing her name on the ownership forms… it felt good. Right.
Her car. Her choice.
When she tucked the temporary registration neatly into the glove compartment, there was this small, proud smile on her face.
It made something warm settle in my chest something that had nothing to do with the car and everything to do with her.
The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t empty.
The memory of that kiss lingered between us, filling the air.
Every time she glanced my way, every time she shifted in her seat, I thought of the way she’d tasted, the sound she’d made when my hand slid into her hair.
The new leather smell was now mixed
