Read Grand Theft Retro (Style & Error Mystery Series Book 5) for Free Online

and set my handbag on the floor by my feet. Pulled the car door shut. Buckled up the seat belt. All of a sudden I was nervous. Like I was fifteen and going on my first date.
    “Kidd,” Nick said in a low, husky voice.
    “Taylor,” I said back, though mine sorta squeeked.
    He smiled. “Long time no see.”
    “I was just thinking about that.”
    He put the truck into gear and drove through the mostly empty lot until he reached the exit. His showroom wasn’t far from Retrofit , but instead of slowing down and turning right at the light by the Dairy Queen, he breezed through the intersection.
    “You just passed your store,” I said.
    “We’re not going to my store.” He reached over and threaded his fingers through mine. Two blocks later, he picked my hand up and pressed it to his lips in a gentle kiss. I might not have known what to expect from him, but the subtle gesture conveyed a shift between us. My decision to say yes to his invitation had been partially predicated on the fact that maybe we were just going to talk like we had been doing long distance. But the kiss indicated otherwise. My heartbeat picked up and I squirmed in the seat. Nick hadn’t mentioned my torn pants. He hadn’t cursed when we hit four consecutive yellow lights. He kept his eyes on the road, but the rest of the drive he didn’t let go.
    “Do I want to know where we’re going?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “Do I want to know why your pants are torn? Not that I mind the view of your panties.”
    I pulled my hand away and tugged down on the bottom of my blazer. “Fine. I’ll let you surprise me.”
    Nick kept an apartment in Italy, where he lived six months out of the year. After moving his base of operations from New York to Ribbon a few years ago, he’d rented a furnished apartment where I’d heard he sometimes stayed. When his father had a heart attack last year, he’d put his business on hold, sublet the apartment, and moved back to New York to help care for his dad. Nick hadn’t led me to believe that he was going to drive me to New York tonight, but I still wasn’t sure where we were headed.
    We drove through downtown Ribbon, past street upon street of rundown Victorian row homes. He turned left at a church and after a few blocks turned right and right again. He eased his truck up to a private garage, fed a plastic card into an automated parking teller, and then pulled forward into a space by the elevator marked “Reserved.”
    “Surprise,” he said. We got out and I followed him to the elevator wells.
    “How long have you known you were moving to Ribbon?”
    “A couple of months.”
    “Why’d you kept it a secret?”
    “I had big plans to throw you a surprise party.”
    “Nice try.”
    “New York was inconvenient. There are—there are a lot of reasons why I wanted to find something bigger. Truth is, it took awhile to find an apartment I liked and when I found this one, I didn’t want to jinx it.”
    I stopped walking. “Am I one of the reasons?” I asked.
    He reached for my hand and ran his fingertips over mine. “You’re the main reason,” he said softly. He tipped his head down and kissed me gently.
    Whether it was instinct or the memory of kissing Nick in our on-again times, I didn’t know, but I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him close. This time when our lips met, there was no mistaking my intention or his response.
    “I want more, Kidd,” he said after the kiss. “My dad’s heart attack made me realize what’s important in life. I hope—I think—it just feels right.” His expression grew serious.
    The elevator stopped and we got out. I ran my finger around my lips to fix any smudged lipstick. Nick walked to apartment 2001, but before he could insert his keys into the lock, the door opened up.
    An older man who bore more than a passing resemblance to Nick stood resting on a cane in the hall in front of us. He looked at me, then at Nick, then back at me.
    “Is this her?” the