“I used to daydream about this,” she said. “Sitting in the car beside you—the wind blowing through my hair.”

He turned toward her and smiled. “Well, you were the only girl I ever imagined beside me in the red convertible, although I did wonder if the color would clash with your hair.”

“Is that why you bought a blue car?” Meg teased, feeling more at ease with Sam since his surprise return.

“Maybe it was,” he told her, but he wasn’t smiling now. He was looking at the road ahead and frowning slightly. He couldn’t possibly have bought a blue car because it would go better with the hair of someone he hadn’t seen for thirteen years, Sam told himself. No, not even subconsciously.

But the thought had rattled him—the way everything about Meg was rattling him.