Page 12 of Slick Trip

Jon actually recoiled, as though I’d slapped him. For a heartbeat, a pang of guilt twisted in my chest. I thought about softening my tone, taking my words back. But what was the point? He’d earned every bit of my spite. Besides, he’d already locked the emotion down like it had never happened.

“This won’t be fun for either of us,” he said after a beat. “But we’re here anyway, so we might as well try to get along.”

Of course he was being reasonable. His calm made my skin itch.

“Sorry, can’t see that happening,” I said, flashing him a bright smile. “You can get along all by yourself.”

He raked a hand through his hair. He always kept it short, almost like a military cut. Figures.

“So you’re going to sulk the whole time?” he asked.

“What did you think would happen?” I snarled. “That I’d climb you like a horny squirrel?”

“Jesus. No. That’s not what I thought would happen,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. A tired breath escaped him. “Listen, we should talk about what happened—”

“No.”

“Cooper—”

“I’ll start screaming.”

“Which is exactly why we should talk about it.”

I screamed.

Jon clapped his hands over his ears. “For fuck’s sake!”

“I warned you.”

“I didn’t realize you were about to channel a possessed foghorn.” Damn. That was actually funny. Obviously I didn’t tell him that.

“Give me my snack bag,” I said instead.

He let out the most annoying snort. “A, I won’t if you don’t ask nicely,” he said, even as he reached for it. “And B, shouldn’t we at least leave town first?”

“A, you’re an ass, and B, it’s none of your business. Or are you suddenly an expert on snack etiquette?”

His jaw flexed again. Good. Maybe he’d dislocate it and then he wouldn’t be able to talk.

He rummaged through the bag. “Do you want the whole thing or something specific, Your Honorable Fucking Highness?”

I let out a sigh so hard it almost rattled my curls. “The raisins.”

He looked genuinely appalled. “I’d forgotten how twisted you are.”

“They’re covered in chocolate. Don’t be dramatic.”

“You’re calling me dramatic?” he said. “You’re the most dramatic person I know.”

“And you are the stupidest.”

He pulled the raisin bag out, but he didn’t give it to me. He held it just out of reach.

“I told you to ask nicely.”

The rasp in his voice went straight to my gut, strengthening the urge to win whatever game he thought we were playing. If he wanted to push, I’d fucking push. Keeping my focus on the road, I leaned closer and rubbed my shoulder against his. Jon went completely still.

“I need it,” I said as softly as I could. The hitch in his breath felt like a victory. Slowly, I turned my head. Big mistake. He was already watching me.