They continued toward the Lamborghini. Stan's arm stayed around her waist, steady and unselfconscious.
After a few steps Amelia found herself leaning into him almost without deciding to, the contact no longer startling. The cool night air moved against her face; the residual heat of his side against hers felt quietly right.
"You always seem to appear exactly when I need something," she said, voice light. "It's becoming a pattern."
Stan glanced down, the playful glint returning. "I already told you. You don't need taxis when I'm around."
"Convenient for you."
"Very."
She shook her head, but a small smile remained. The short distance to the car felt easier than it should have.
When they reached it, Stan opened the driver's door and slid in. Amelia walked around to the passenger side and settled into the seat. The interior still held a trace of his cologne. Before he started the engine he looked over at her, expression softer in the dim cabin light.
"Ready?"
