She should have checked the license plate. That detail replayed in her mind constantly.
Running on caffeine and stubborn ambition, she had moved on autopilot that night. Black car. Right spot. Late hour. Good enough.
She opened the door, dropped into the back seat, and melted into the plush leather. The comfort should have warned her. It didn’t.
Instead, she drifted into the deepest sleep she’d had in weeks—until that teasing voice cut through her dream.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted once she realized her mistake. “I thought this was my Uber.”
“Well,” he said calmly, “technically you commandeered my car. And yes, you snore. A little. It’s almost charming.”
She denied it immediately.
He smiled.
“I’m Gabriel Albuquerque,” he said. “And this is the vehicle you’ve temporarily hijacked.”
The name meant nothing to her at the time, though his confidence suggested it should have.
Embarrassed, she reached for the door handle.
“It’s late,” he said. “Where do you live?”
“That’s not your concern.”
After a brief pause, he added, “Considering you just slept in my car, I think I’m allowed minimal concern. Let me take you home.”
She hesitated. Walking alone that late wasn’t wise.