Once inside the car, Leah suddenly blurted out, "So it's this model? You didn't take the Benz, brother-in-law—is this one borrowed?"
"Yeah, it's borrowed. Your sister drives that other car to and from work. Is there something wrong with this one?"
Luis asked instinctively.
Truth be told, this car felt just as unfamiliar to him as it did to them. There's this peculiar, hard-to-articulate sense that any man would get when getting behind the wheel.
First, the moment he pulled the door handle, he could tell this was an expensive car—but the way the door didn't close with a solid, tight thud meant the latch had been worn down by someone who didn't put much force into closing it, likely a woman.
Second, as soon as his foot touched the pedals, he froze. The accelerator and brake had a certain decorative flair to them, clearly belonging to a young girl.
