The next day, she found another big reason to be grateful for Jake’s relaxed style. He handled LA traffic with a Zen calm that she never managed.
“Aren’t you going to honk at that car? He cut you off.”
“Nah. What’s the point?” He steered with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window frame. Every line of his body spelled easy and relaxed.
“Um…to tell him to f**k off?”
“I’ll write him a letter. ‘Dear Stranger in the Blue Volvo - I’m sure you didn’t intend to nearly get us both killed, but just in case you did, f**k off.’”
“Very funny.” She turned to the side to eye him closely. “You don’t even look mad.”
“I’m silently seething with rage, can’t you tell?” His dimple flashed briefly. “Don’t worry, I save my anger for the big stuff.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those ‘don’t sweat
