Damn it Dean,
He chided himself as he gave the girl a smile. He shouldn't let his guard down. There was a ghost loose, a ghost or something and he was a hunter. He should be more vigilant.
"Thanks," He smiled.
"66?" She asked.
"No, 67," I raised an eyebrow, this girl knew car years?
"Nice," She nodded, her eyes washing over the car with clear appreciation, "Mind popping the hood?"
Dean eyed her, seeing the curiosity and figured what the hell. If a cute girl like this had an interest like this, it was worth the humor.
"Sure," Dean opened the door, the creaking of aged metal familiar.
He walked around, grabbing and pulling the latch between the grill and the metal of the car. He pushed up on the old hood, satisfied with the creaks and groans.
"You probably won't understand this but it's a small block 327 V8-"
"I'm going to 4 barrel with an automatic. Guessing it's matching numbers and would ya look at that? SS, not a tribute?" The girl finished for him, he raised an eyebrow at Dean who stuttered.
"What? You know cars?"
"Ya, what surprised that a girl knows cars?" She smiled as she rose up from looking over the engine, "My little beast is down there. 68 Chevelle Concours."
Dean whistled as he walked over the edge of the cliff and saw a gorgeous 68 Chevelle sitting next to the sand. It was bright hugger orange with a black vinyl top and sparkling rally wheels. She had a small cowl hood, no more then 2 inches high. The car was beautiful and straight as a razor, dangerous and sharp looking.
"That's yours?" Dean asked in shock, pointing at the crouching muscle car.
"Been mine since I was 14," She smiled and held out a hand, "Carena."
"Dean," He took her hand, noting a firm grip, "So you're into cars?"
"Runs in the family. I assume you're here for Collector Car?"
"Collector Car?" Dean ran through any aliases or stories involving them and found none, "Uh yes, Collector Car totally."
"Little early aren't you? It's Saturday. Most people don't arrive till Thursday or Friday." Carena eyed him.
"Yes well we like to uh arrive early."
"We?"
"Me and my brother."
"Oh so no girl?" She eyed him as she walked alongside his car.
"Na, road trip," He nodded, watching her.
She was beautiful. Short, petite but full of attitude and spark. Her short brunette hair fell in a mop just to her chin and her hazel eyes burned with fire and appreciation. She was dressed in blue shorts and a black T shirt that hugged her all right aside from the leather jacket he wore. He noted with a smile that she wore a chain with a piston on it. Whoever this girl was, she was a car girl for sure.
"I want to do that one day," She smiled at him, "But I've been stuck here in this silly town my whole life. My dad..."
"Your dad what?" Dean asked, intrigued.
"My dad was the one who got me into it. The cars. He was a drag racer and the local mechanic and thanks to his skill, everyone knows him and by extension, me."
"That's a bad thing?"
"Bad if you want to get away," She rolled her eyes, "But everyone knows where and when Paul's daughter is."
"Gotta live up to the old man?" He asked, sensing the same feelings he had everyday himself.
"You know it," She grinned ruefully, "Gotta match the great Paul Millan! Paul's daughter as to stick around and keep up the legacy."
"Ha, I know the feeling," He said, just as he was about to continue, his phone rang.
"Sammy?" He picked up the call.