Except, as she drove the truck to the outer garage where the bodywork was done, his scent assaulted her every inch of the way. She easily imagined him behind the wheel, his guitar slung casually in the backseat, one elbow jutting out from the open window. He would be on his way to pick up a date, maybe dressed in the same well-worn jeans he’d worn to the garage, and he would have classic rock tuned from KLOS filling the cab. When she tested the radio and had her guess confirmed, Jenny smiled. The man had excellent taste.