Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(43)

We continue on our journey, closing in on the New Mexico border, and it soon becomes apparent from the relaxed set of Farren’s shoulders that confiding in me has been a relief for him, too.

We talk and listen to music. Farren smiles more frequently as we log mile after mile, and God is his smile beautiful. At one point a sleek sports car passes, and I make a joke about our SUV.

Farren laughs. “Is that a hint that you’re ready for a different car?”

“Um”—I hem and haw—“you want the truth?”

This earns me another sidelong glance, one filled with mock impatience. “Yes, the truth would be good.”

Scrunching up my face, I admit, “Yes, I kind of am ready for something different.”

Farren makes a quick call on his burner phone, listing a series of numbers (latitude and longitude?) to whoever’s on the receiving end.

“What was that all about?” I ask, just as we’re entering the state of New Mexico. We exit the interstate almost immediately and turn off onto some lonely desert road.

“That was about a surprise for you,” Farren says cryptically.

Ten minutes later we’re at an abandoned warehouse, not a soul in sight. Farren stops the SUV, gets out, and slides open a large metal door on the front of the building. When he gets back in the SUV, he drives straight into the warehouse. A motion-activated light illuminates the empty interior.

But the warehouse isn’t completely empty.

When I see what is in there, I promptly gush, “Oh…my…God…”

Farren places the SUV in park, leans over, and whispers in my ear, “Do you like your surprise?”

“Do I ever,” I remark.

In front of me is the car I was expecting Farren to have from the start of this adventure—a sleek red sports car.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s a car, Essa,” he deadpans.

Since he’s still close to me, I push him away, albeit playfully. “Ha-ha. I mean what kind of car is it?”

“I know what you meant,” he tells me, opening the driver’s side door. “Come on. We’ll go check it out together.”

Farren knows exactly what kind of car it is. After all, I soon come to learn, it’s his.

“Not a rental?” I ask, just to be sure I’ve heard him correctly.

“It’s all mine, baby,” he says, smirking.

He then informs me that the shiny red car is a Ferrari 458 Italia. That doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot to me, but I suspect it’s fast as hell.

Farren begins to fidget with the removable hardtop, saying as he works at it nimbly, “This is only the first part of your surprise.”

I circle the perimeter of the car, admiring its sleekness. “What’s the second part?” I distractedly trace my index finger along the smooth hood.

I look up when I get no response. Wow. And if I thought Farren’s smiles earlier were amazing, I was sadly mistaken. The smile he gives me now blows all the others away.

He fishes a key from his pocket and hands it to me. “Let’s go have some fun,” he says.

I whisper, “No way.”

“It’s your turn to drive, right?”

I take the key hesitantly. “So,” I say slowly, “it’s finally my turn to drive, and you want me to drive this car?”

“Yes.” Farren chuckles and takes my hand. With his other hand at the small of my back, he guides me to the driver’s side door. “You’re going to be driving a Ferrari, Miss Brant, one of the fastest cars in production. This news should make you happy.”

My response?

I level him with an are-you-kidding look.

And then we get into the car.

There’s no need for words, since I can’t begin to convey to Farren how excited I am. Nor can I express how incredibly happy he’s made me feel in this moment. But it’s not just the Ferrari that’s brought me joy. It’s Farren. Farren in my life is good for me. He’s entered my life at the perfect time, even if the circumstances have been far from ideal. And maybe I’ve come into his life at the right time, too. It sure seems that way when I look over at him and take note that he seems pretty damn contented himself.

And that is the point when I realize I want this relationship we’re building to continue. I don’t want things to end after Haven is rescued and we return home. My life, the life I want, well it feels like that life just beginning. One inevitable detour has led me here, but now I need another to keep us together. I’ve had a taste of Farren, and I’m hungry for more.

I glance over at Farren as I place the key in the ignition. He smiles back at me. There’s something more in his expression, though. Something that makes me entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe, Farren Shaw wants this to continue, too.





A hundred and twenty miles per hour—that’s what the speedometer reads when I glance down at it.

I hit the gas.

With me in the driver’s seat of a car I never dreamed I’d ever even sit in—let alone drive—I barrel down a long stretch of blacktop desert road that’s as straight as an arrow.

“I can’t remember ever feeling this free,” I shout to Farren over the loud engine noise and wind.

He smiles. “You’re doing great,” he shouts back.