“I love this car,” Tyler said, his mouth setting in that line of resolve. “It’s fast.”
She leaned forward to look pointedly at the jammed avenue. “I can tell, by our breakneck speed.”
“Manhattan is congested. That’s hardly my fault.”
“You live in Manhattan,” she countered. “You have to drive in Manhattan to take this car anywhere.”
“Thanks for pointing that out. I never would have thought of that.” The light changed and the traffic eased forward, people honking at the guy still in the intersection. Tyler changed gears a little more savagely than was necessary.
Shannyn decided on a bit of insurance.
“I read somewhere that a very high percentage of men who drive expensive cars are jerks,” she said. “I’m not sure how that correlates with being smug or entitled, but I have to think there’s a connection.”
“Are you conceding that I’m not an asshole?”
Shannyn ignored that. “Like the guy who takes care of it for you...”
“Marcus?” He gave her a hot look and his words fell quickly, clipped and precise. She’d gotten to him already. “We partnered with Marcus from the beginning, because we knew some members would drive to the club and we didn’t have parking facilities. His son got his first job at the club and was so popular that the members contributed to his college fund. The club matched it, dollar for dollar. He’s the first one in Marcus’s family to go to college, so don’t start telling me that having had luck in life doesn’t keep you from spreading that around.”
A lecture. Shannyn was surprised that Tyler showed so much passion and was secretly impressed by the efforts of the partners to make a difference. It was nice. She couldn’t think about that, not when she was destined to spend hours more with him. “Still, with this car, it’s a good thing you don’t have kids.”
“An excellent thing,” Tyler acknowledged which was unexpected.
Shannyn turned to study him. He looked resolute again. “Don’t you want kids?”
“Not anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“I like getting a good night’s sleep. When I called Derek the other night, Ethan was screaming the house down.” He shuddered and she smiled.
“Will you sell the car when you do?” She leaned over to look at the odometer. “It might have a hundred miles on it by then. Wouldn’t that adversely affect its resale value?”
She got one of those cutting looks for her comment. “You don’t have to start a fight. All you had to say was ‘yes, Tyler, I like the car.’”
“But that wouldn’t be true. I don’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s attractive but useless.” Shannyn pursed her lips. “I’ve known people like that, actually.”
If Tyler thought he might be included in that count, he hid it well. “Everybody loves this car.”
“Not me.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’re the exception?” he muttered under his breath. “Okay, if you had a car, what kind of car would it be?”
“Oh, I’d have a truck. Or a van. Something big with lots of capacity. And big tires. A vehicle for getting stuff done.”
“I never would have imagined you needed that many groceries.”
Shannyn laughed. “Point to you,” she said and he started to smile again. Her heart skipped, a sure sign of trouble ahead. How was she going to get through an afternoon with this man and dinner without another round of sport sex? “Not groceries,” she said, because she had no plan. “Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
They were stuck in an intersection, inching forward, and almost through it. Shannyn was looking around, hoping to evade his question, when she spotted the exact kind of stuff she meant. It was on the curb, half a block down, on the side street. She had only a glimpse before the traffic broke and they surged forward. She twisted in the seat, trying to get another look.
Had she really seen a perfect teak armchair put out for the trash?
What a find it would be!
They were stuck in traffic again and Tyler was gripping the wheel, his impatience clear.
“Can you turn back?” she asked.
“Why? Did you forget something at the club?”
“No, I just saw something down that street and want a better look.” She craned her neck, trying to see out the back window, but the angle was all wrong.
“Someone hurt?”
“No. Something put out for the trash.”
Tyler blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Can you go around the block already?” she demanded with agitation. “Someone is going to grab it.”
“You want me to go back so you can see trash.” He spoke as if her words made no sense.
“Yes! One man’s trash is another woman’s treasure. Turn here, please. You can go around the block.”
“I know I can go around the block,” Tyler said, grinding out the words. “I just don’t see the point.”
Shannyn made a frustrated noise as she tried to open the door. It had locked automatically when he’d started the car. “Can you unlock this door, please?”
“Why? The traffic is going to break in a minute...”
“Please?”
The door locks clicked and Shannyn opened the door. They were in a middle lane and there was a gap beside her. As soon as she flung open the door, though, brakes squealed. Tyler swore as a car squealed to a halt in the right lane, just behind the Porsche. The guy driving the other car had obviously intended to zip around them on the right. He raised his hands in frustration and Shannyn was glad she couldn’t read lips. She waved at him, grabbed her bag and shut the door of Tyler’s car. She heard the window go down.
“Where are you going?” he called after her.
Shannyn pivoted and pointed. “Back there. Are you coming or not?” She named the street, then the guy in the next lane honked as the traffic started to move. She jumped to the curb. She heard Tyler swear again, but she was already running down the sidewalk toward her potential score.
Let it be there.
Let her reach it first.
It was official. Shannyn was the most infuriating woman on the planet. Tyler eased into the right lane as the traffic started to flow—the guy who had almost taken off his passenger door let him in, probably out of pity—and turned right on the first street he could. He turned right again and raced back to the street Shannyn had named. He squealed the tires as he turned the corner, then slowed down. The street was virtually empty.
Except for Shannyn, proudly sitting on a chair placed at the curb.
She was perched on someone’s garbage, as if it was a throne.
She also looked incredibly pleased with herself. Her bag was between her ankles and she was running her hands over the chair that had been put out for the trash as if she’d found the Hope Diamond.
Infuriating and inexplicable. If she thought she was going to get back in his car after sitting on that filthy chair, she could think again.
Ty parked at the curb beside her and lowered the window.
“I thought you said the car was fast,” she said, all innocence, and Ty bit his tongue.
“You came back for this old piece of junk?”
She looked insulted. “It’s not an old piece of junk.”
“It looks like one to me. Dirty and faded.” He took a breath and grimaced. “Owned by someone who smoked a lot. It’s garbage.”
Shannyn leaned forward, eyes gleaming, and enunciated clearly. “This, Mr. Entitlement, is a score of the highest order. This is a teak mid-century chair of Danish manufacture in perfect condition.” She widened her eyes. “A fabulous vintage find that someone, against all reason, is throwing away.”
“What does that mean?”
She lifted a brow. “That I can have it for free.”
“But you have to carry it away from here to do that.”
She surveyed his car and sighed theatrically. “And you wonder why I think y
our car is useless.”
“It’s not useless...”
“No, I guess we could tie the chair to the roof.”
The very suggestion incensed Ty. “Are you kidding me?”
Her smile flashed. “Yes, actually, I was. I’ll call someone else to help. If you need to leave, that’s fine.”
She was changing the plans, again.
“But we’ll be late to meet Derek at your house.”
“This is more important,” she said. “I’ll let him know after I get this solved.”
Ty sat back, astonished. He couldn’t believe what was happening.
And then, because he was with Shannyn, it got worse.
“Hey!” a guy shouted and Ty saw that someone had come out of the front door of the house. He winced, guessing that Shannyn would discover the repercussions of coveting someone’s trash. “You like that chair?”
Shannyn twisted around to look at him. “Are you kidding? I love this chair!”
“You want the other one?” The guy stepped back and gestured to the house interior. “It’s all got to go and the sooner the better. Demolition starts Monday.”
Ty saw then that there were permits pasted in the windows of the house. They were renovating the house. Maybe they’d bought the place with furniture. Maybe someone had left it behind. Maybe someone had died.
Either way, Shannyn was gripping the window of the car to appeal to him. “You have to sit in the chair for me,” she said with urgency, her eyes wide and very blue. He was alarmed by how much he wanted to do as she asked.
Just to make her happy.
“I do not. It’s dirty.” Ty eyed the faded orange upholstery with distaste.
“Right, and you’re in a suit, which is infinitely more important.” She shook her head. “Just stand beside it. Put a hand on it. You have to defend it for me.”
Ty realized the implications of what she was asking. “You’re not going in that house alone. You don’t know that guy.”
“Oh, please. He just wants to get rid of a chair that I probably want. This is a mutually beneficial situation with no subtext. I have to go look.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m motivated,” she argued, and she looked it. “Please!” she entreated. “The vultures will be circling.”
Sure enough, a couple was walking down the street, arm in arm. The guy checked out Ty’s car. The woman’s eyes rounded when she spotted the chair.
Shannyn scurried to position herself between them and the chair, keeping a proprietary grip on it. “Taken,” she said with authority.
“Great find,” the woman said admiringly.
“Great car,” the guy said, with just as much admiration. “Not really ideal for the job, though.”
Against his better instincts, Ty turned on the hazards and got out. He eyed the chair and put a hand on it as the couple continued on.
“Happy?” he asked Shannyn.
Her smile was radiant and once again, he felt like a conquering hero. “Yes!”
“Then leave your bag here. I want to be sure you come back. It would be just like you to leave me standing with my hand on this filthy chair for the rest of the day.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?”
“You’ll probably take pictures if I don’t keep your bag as insurance.”
Shannyn laughed, not in the least bit troubled by his assessment. Then she surrendered the bag with her camera inside. “You’ve never picked up anything from the curb?”
“Never.”
“How long have you lived in Manhattan?”
“More than ten years.”
“News flash. Scoring trash is a time-honored Manhattan tradition.”
“You mean stealing garbage.”
“I mean upcycling.”
Ty couldn’t imagine taking home a piece of furniture he found abandoned at the curb, but clearly Shannyn could. She was even excited about it. She ran to the house. Ty watched her go, knowing that if this guy was selling anything, Shannyn would buy.
He really had to teach her something about negotiation.
At least about having a poker face.
He looked down at the chair, then at the roof of the car. She really wanted it. It wasn’t that dirty or that big. He lifted it and realized it wasn’t that heavy, either. He had a blanket in the trunk and a length of rope. The cushions could go in the trunk. He checked his watch, decided time was of the essence, and chose to solve it.
Ty put Shannyn’s bag on the floor in front of the passenger seat. He shed his suit jacket and put it on the back seat then rolled up his sleeves. He opened the trunk, cast the blanket over the roof, and glared at a guy walking a dog who stopped to check out the chair. He’d rolled down the windows and started to tie the chair in place when Shannyn came out of the house, her face alight.
She laughed when she saw what he was doing, but didn’t comment. That was good, because he was thinking about the chances of the rope chafing the upholstery and reconsidering the wisdom of his decision.
Marcus would be able to fix it.
“Another chair?” he asked, assuming the worst from her expression. He wondered how many trips he was doomed to make to Brooklyn this day.
“Better!” she said with excitement. “The entire living room suite. There’s a couch, and a coffee table, and”—she was literally bouncing—“the kitchen table, chairs and hutch, too. I can’t believe it. It’s in perfect condition and he just wants it to go away.”
“And you want to help with that.”
“Don’t sound so grim. This is an epic score, my best score of all time, and I have the recessive thrifting gene.”
“What?”
“It’s my superpower. This is big, even for me.” She leaned closer, her eyes shining with such pleasure that Ty couldn’t look away. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Even better, it’s the solution.”
“To what?”
“This will top up the fund for my roof.”
Ty looked at the chair, which he saw as junk, then back at Shannyn. “It can’t be worth that much.”
She nodded with confidence. “Cleaned up, re-upholstered, you bet.”
“Then why would he throw it away?”
She shrugged, even as she tapped busily at her phone. “Look at that house. He’s probably going to spend several hundred thousand renovating that place. Maybe half a million. A couple of thousand dollars is neither here nor there to that guy. To me, it’s the rest of my roof. It’s salvation.”
“I thought I was providing that.”
“Oh well.” She glanced up at him, her smile filled with mischief.
And Ty realized that Shannyn’s find meant that she didn’t need him to solve the issue of her roof anymore, which meant their second deal might not come to closure. He had that feeling of things unraveling fast, a sense of powerlessness that he was starting to associate with Shannyn.
He needed to be part of the solution to stay in the loop.
He looked at the chair on the roof of his car and focused on practicalities. “I can’t take a couch.”
“I know.” She shook her head sadly. “Pretty but silly car.”
Ty felt protective of his car and its dignity. “Well, I wasn’t planning to pick up trash.”
“I know. I’m not calling it a lack of foresight. Just a disparity in priorities.” She was scrolling through her list of contacts on her phone. “Not enough time to get a rental. I could call Phil, I guess.”
“Phil?”
“Guy I know with a van. He’d want a share, though, and this needs to stay together to have the maximum value.” She scrolled on. “I could ask Tim,” she mused. “He has a truck.”
“Aren’t you going to have to pay him to pick it up?”
“Of course. We barter. He doesn’t care about furniture.”
“What’s his price?”
“Last time, it was a blow job.” She spoke lightly, as if she was just saying something outrageous to annoy Ty. If tha
t was her plan, it worked beautifully. His reaction must have shown because she glanced up and laughed aloud. “Don’t look so shocked. Cash isn’t the only currency. I made a different deal, one with someone else. Don’t worry about my virtue. I’ve got it covered.”
Ty had enough. “What if I fix this?”
“Do you want to fix everything?”
“If it keeps you from trading blow jobs for furniture transport, yes.”
“I’m not yours to defend, remember.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’m just trying to be nice.” He bit off the last word, his patience wearing thin. All the women in his life would have taken warning at that, but not Shannyn.
“Ah, that’s what fooled me,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Do you have a truck, too, hidden amongst your many assets?”
“Of course not.” He called Derek, who answered on speakerphone. “Derek! Hey, we’re running late.”
“Derek has a truck,” Shannyn whispered with delight as she understood. She seized his arm, her grip tight in her excitement. She was practically vibrating beside him.
Ty nodded then mouthed ‘big truck.’
She did a little happy dance, pretending to scream with joy, even though she made no sound. Ty couldn’t keep himself from smiling at her.
She was infuriating, unpredictable, but a lot of fun.
When had he last enjoyed himself so much? Not recently.
“Me, too,” Derek said. “What’s going on? The traffic sucks today.”
“I don’t know. Any chance you could do me a favor and stop downtown on your way to Brooklyn?” Ty walked away from Shannyn, suspecting he’d have to sweeten the deal.
“Are you kidding me? I told you. I don’t drive downtown.”
“But Shannyn found some furniture at the curb that she wants really badly.”
“Regretting that Porsche, are you?” Derek asked with a chuckle.
“Never.”
“But you need a truck.”
“Soon. The vultures are circling, as she says.” He dropped his voice so Shannyn couldn’t hear. “Fifty bucks?”
“A hundred,” Derek countered, as if he could smell Shannyn’s enthusiasm from a distance. “You won’t be able to get a rental on Saturday afternoon.”
Just One Fake Date: A Contemporary Romance (Flatiron Five Fitness Book 1) Page 15
