She's a reckless driver. A foul-mouthed, middle fingers up kind of driver. And she drives an absolute monster truck of a gigantic Ford pickup in a metallic purple she says looks like a galaxy when the sun hits it at the right spot. Her car is huge. I didn't think she'd be able to make the step up. Even with legs like hers, endless ones,it seemed impossible but with one little hop she sat behind the wheel.

I haven't been in the passenger's seat of someone's car in ages. And I've never had a woman drive me, either but my mystery firecracker seems totally at ease with her eighties rock music blasting through the speakers and the little pine tree tied to her rearview mirror making me think of Christmas.

This is so odd. I feel incredibly out of place, yet I love it. I used to be known for being reckless and wild, but this feels more or less the same. Except, this has to be more...positive? There's no drugs, no liquor running down some faceless, nameless girl I'll have to shove off me later.

Just this, nameless, beautifully-faced stranger who seems so utterly trusting it's...refreshing. I'm used to names and research and prodding to know who you're dealing with in New York. Here? It's like a friendly face and a vibe just got me a free fucking ride all the way down to Boulder. No cab fare, no expensive coffee for the road. Fucking freeing if you ask me.

As she drives, I observe her. I notice the way her brows scrunch when someone tries to cut her off, the way she bites her lip when she's annoyed and trying not to go off into a fit of 'fucks' and honking at the person in front of her and the way her eyes flutter from the rearview mirror to the side ones every once in a while. She's careful even though her driving seems maniacal.

"You're awfully quiet, you know," she remarks, looking my way when we're at a red light.

"Whatcha wanna know, my name?" I ask.

She lets out a huff and smiles widely.

"Be smart, I could be an axe murderer," she jokes.

"Mhm, true...you would be an easy target, you know."

Another laugh reverberates through the cabin of the car.

"You really think so, huh?"

"Well, sweetheart, you run into a stranger and take him to your home, after all. No questions asked."

"Who says I'm taking you to my house, Suit?" She peers my way, eyebrows arched. "Besides, how different is this from Tinder, anyway?"

I laugh, loudly and stare at her.

"Tinder? Really?"

She shrugs.

"When there's an itch, you scratch it, don't you?"

Open and definitely not a prude.

"I've never been on Tinder in my life," I admit.

"Wow, really? You're dating someone, maybe?" She's back to focusing on the road. But I can't help but wonder if she's fishing for information or just holding a friendly conversation with me.

"That's a big no," I chuckle. "No dating, not ever."

"Must be lonely then. So just your suits and no Tinder, heh?"

"I go out to hunt for what I'm after." I don't really know how I feel about saying it like that but the hellcat smiles widely, Cheshire-cat-style.

"I'm guessing you never wait long enough to actually develop an itch," she laughs with a wink.

Is she flirting with me?

"Well, baby, I don't know if anyone ever told you...but if you get an itch, that's probably an STD."

"Oh my God, please...You're hilarious," she says rolling those whiskey eyes of hers.

"Who'd have thought axe murders were this funny, right?"

"I've heard we're all pretty much comedy geniuses. It's a basic in how to become an axe murderer 101."

"Oh, the same class they teach how to woo a girl 101?"

"Nah, I don't woo girls, Suit. I'm only into sausage."

If I had a drink right now I'm sure I'd choke on it.

"Yeah you look a little hungry," I blurt out.

"Don't go there," she challenges me. I hadn't even noticed she parked the car in a driveway.

"I'm not going anywhere, hellcat."

"Boy, you're trouble, aren't you?"

She has no idea.