Lace ducked her head. Time to confess. “I, uh, actually don’t have my car here. I’ve been taking the bus, since sometimes I’m a little too out-of-it to drive after my treatments.”
Although today, she felt so damned good, maybe she’d reconsider her ride-options in the future.
Perhaps she was getting used to the poisons being pumped into her body?
Fat chance. It had to be today’s distractions taking her mind away from her own woes. It didn’t matter though. Either way, she’d embrace it.
“That settles it,” Vincent said with a grin. “I’ll drive us for ice cream, then I’ll take you home. Is that okay?”
“It sure is.” Lace couldn’t hold back her smile.
“Then, if you decide I’m not a serial killer…” he added.
Lace always pictured someone stabbing Captain Crunch when “serial killer” got mentioned.
“…I can drive you home every week until you’re finished,” Vince concluded.
“Uh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Lace warned, but part of her was thrilled. Vince wasn’t backing away, he was forging ahead, which gave her hope.
“Okay. I won’t. But I can drivetoday,right?” he questioned, backing off a little on his enthusiasm.
Lace didn’t want to snuff out the light that she’d seen in his eyes.
“Of course,” she assured him with a succinct nod and a wiggle of her brows. And yes, oddly, she did still have her eyebrows, which were often the first thing to go. “After all, youdidsay ice cream, right?” she teased.
“Yup. Double chocolate with chocolate chunks and chocolate jimmies.”
The enticing picture was enough to make her salivate.
“Now you’re talking my language,” Lace hummed. “Lead on.” She grabbed her coat, which she seemed to need most days inspiteof the scorching heat outside. Besides, it held all her stuff, so she couldn’t do without it. She wasnota purse kind of girl.
They got a lot of speculative looks as they left the hospital; Lace all wan looking, and Vince in his colorful clown get-up. But she didn’t let it bother her. Let the gawkers speculate, and maybe even imagine some wild-ass clown sex.
Hermind might have slipped there a time or two over the past week since meeting the enigmatic Vincent.
He led her to a lovely, bright red truck, and why wasn’t Lace surprised? There was nothing understated about Vincent, and his choice of ride went right along with his personality. She wondered what his apartment or house looked like, and immediately pictured the striped interior of a circus tent,complete with a trapeze set-up over what would surely be his king-sized bed.
Wheee.
Right.If that were the case, Lace would probably have to wait awhile before she could take advantage of the apparatus, working to increase her stamina for those kinds of strenuous activities, and…
“Where did you go?” Vincent asked, bringing her back to present.
Oops.
Clearly, he’d opened the truck door for her, and she was standing there, all spaced out on him.
Okay.Why not?
“Umm, full disclosure?”
“Of course,” he nodded.
Lace decided she’d go for it. Since Vince had taken the cancer thing with such aplomb, what was a little crazy on top of that?
“I, uh, sometimes have these…flights of fancy, where when somebody says something, I…picture stuff in my head.”
Vince didn’t seem turned off. As a matter of fact, he looked intrigued, and a visible dimple popped out under his make-up, making her think he was perhaps…charmed by her disclosure?