I called my mother. It was Saturday, and there was no telling what my mother was doing or where she was.
“MA!” I yelled. I could barely hear her with all the noise in the background.
“Honey? What is it?”
“My car won’t start. I’m in Inman Park near this bougie Pilates studio. Can you come and get me? I’ll get the car towed later.”
“Oh, honey. I wish I could. But I’m in Birmingham for the day with the Senior Olympics swim team. We’re in the quarterfinals.”
I sighed and held the phone, frustration percolating. “Okay. I’ll…try to call someone else.”
I scrolled through my phone and looked at numbers. My house-arrest uncle. Unreliable cousins. Guys I knew from high school. Guys that were booty calls. I stopped at Korey’s name.
A voice mail. Thank God! I hung up without leaving a message, but I was back to square one. I kept scrolling and ended up with the last name in my phone: Porter.
Since our kiss on Thanksgiving, I’d been a little skittish. I was avoiding him. Better yet, I was avoiding having any further conversations about what we were to each other. We both knew it.
I bit my lip and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. I looked at my car, which was now slightly smoking.
Fine.
Desperate, I dialed his number. Just when I was about to hang up, he answered.
“Ari? Hey… What’s up?” Porter’s voice had a thick, lazy drawl that signaled that he’d just woken up. I loved that voice.
“Sorry to wake you. But… I…my car…”
“It finally died, huh? Where are you?”
“In Inman Park? At this Soul Pilates spot? Off Euclid. I… I’m sorry to bother you, but everyone else is busy and my AAA card isn’t current. I don’t have my debit or credit card. I said off Euclid, right?”
I could hear Porter rustling around. I bit my lip. Ari, you probably sounded neurotic, calling him like this. I imagined him pulling back the sheets, rubbing his head, and stretching out on his bed just before getting up. I’d seen that scene play out so many times. The thought pulled at my heart’s longing for him for a millisecond.
“Okay. I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Hold tight. And I’ll call you a tow truck. Text me the address.”
“Okay. And thanks, Porter.”
“Of course. Anything for you.”
I leaned back against the headrest of my now defunct jalopy and tucked my hands into my cardigan. I took a deep breath and pulled up the streaming service on my phone to play some smooth jazz. There was no way that I could handle any more R&B lyrics. I closed my eyes, and eventually the sound of Boney James lulled me to sleep.
A knock on my window startled me out of a nearly drool-inducing nap. In front of me were gray sweatpants that showed just the right amount of dick print without being sleazy. The gray sweats eventually leaned back, and there stood Porter, with a sheepish grin. I rolled down my window.
Men did not know how much gray sweatpants turned women into horny teenagers. And by the looks of it, the sweats, Dunks, and hoodie had knocked at least fifteen years off Porter’s age. He looked more college co-ed than forty-two-year-old elder millennial.
“Sorry to wake you from your nap, but the tow truck is here.”
I looked at my smart watch. “Wow. That was fast. Thanks.”
“It’s nothing. I know a guy,” said Porter with a grin. He “knew a guy” for every scenario, it seemed.
I grabbed my purse and tossed my cell phone and keys inside. “Thanks, Porter. I guess you can take me home. I’ll figure out the car situation another day. This one is junk at this point.”
“I know it’s hard to part with it.”
I nodded slowly. Porter scratched his beard, which was a lot fuller these days. I liked it.
“Or—” Porter suggested excitedly with a raised brow “—we can just go look for a new car. I mean, you know I love looking at new whips. Besides, I know a guy…”
I laughed. “Of course, you do. Fine. I’ll look. No promises on if I’ll purchase.”
“That’s fair. But right now, let’s get you some breakfast. There is a cute little French bakery around the corner. And I know how much you love madeleines. So…want to go? My treat?”
I scratched my head and looked around. The tow truck driver was hooking my car up, dragging it onto the back. Bella had pulled off ages ago. And I was just there. With Porter. And his gray sweats. Shit.
I pursed my lips, then relaxed them. “Fine. You had me at madeleines.”