BECKA ADMIRED THE WAY Bryan drove. He was confident, but he wasn’t aggressive. He didn’t want to prove anything to anyone, and he didn’t care if others tried to overtake his car.
“Did you tell your parents that you were bringing me to dinner?” Bryan asked, glancing at her and taking in her posture.
Becka looked like a Madonna. Dressed all in white, she had folded her hands neatly in her lap, and her face was serene.
She nodded, “I told them that I’d come with my boyfriend, but I didn’t give them any details.”
He glanced at her, surprised. In his book, women would give all the details, including the ones they shouldn’t. That was something very new for him.
“Don’t tell me that they didn’t ask any questions,” he showed his skepticism to her words.
Becka fidgeted in her seat for a few se
