Page 21 of Challenge Me

“One more day,” I murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “You can be a good boy and wait, right?”

Fox groaned as he wrapped himself around me, arms locking over my shoulders, the full dramatic weight of him leaning into my chest.

I laughed and squeezed him back in a hug. “No drive, but I’ll still get you pizza.”

He lifted his head. “Extra cheese.”

“Obviously.”

“And garlic knots.”

“Fine.”

“And leave your laptop behind.”

I paused.

Fox stared at me.

I stared back.

That was not a request. That was a hostage negotiation. I felt his weight pulling me down and backed down quickly. “Acceptable compromise. Don’t use my credit card to buy porn; just go on one of the free websites I showed you.” I handed him my bag with the laptop inside. He clutched it with both hands, smugness returning to his face at once, before he stole another quick kiss from me.

“Be good,” I whispered.

◆◆◆

The Challenger was already irritated and restless, but I wasn’t going to entertain his tantrum. I ignored the huffs and puffs and the impatient engine whine as I climbed into the driver’s seat.

Whoa, Ghost did feel different. Huge, for one. Fox was roomy for a muscle car, but Ghost? Ghost felt like I was about to sail a Schooner through the garage gates.

I took a moment to orient myself, getting a feel for the seat and the gear shift before doing all the motions I’d memorized when driving my old ‘stang. Scarlet had been a ‘69, so none of it was unfamiliar; it just took a moment to come back to me. Choke, clutch, release…

Ghost rolled out of the garage. I took it slow at first, still adjusting to the new car, doing my best to ignore the icy glare that seemed to come from the passenger side, even though there was no one sitting there.

“Look,” I said, easing him down the drive. “I’m helping. You gotta let me do it. I’m taking you shopping. I’ll be driving you. Besides, I’m not Lai.” I patted the steering wheel. “I can handle you.”

The wheels slipped on the wet gravel.

For a split second, Ghost drifted hard to the side, dangerously close to the concrete barrier. My stomach jumped into my throat.

“Ghost!”

The radio flicked on instead of an apology.

Static crackled through the speakers, then a low, smug guitar riff rolled out with absolutely no remorse.

Gods, they were so alike, Lai and he. Saying sorry was apparently the most difficult thing in the world.

I corrected the slide and got us back under control, jaw clenched. “You dent yourself, I’m telling Lai you did it being dramatic.”

The engine rumbled.

Ghost behaved after that. Mostly. He still made a point of rumbling at every small car that dared to pass us, and when some idiot in a Honda Fit cut too close at a roundabout, Ghost surged forward with enough aggression that I had to fight him back like a dog on a leash.

By the time we reached the industrial side of town, the roads were slick with evening rain. The tool shop was one of those massive trade warehouses that smelled like rubber mats, machine oil, and men who took socket sets way too seriously. Bright white lights glared over rows of shelves, and Ghost idled outside the entrance like a mafia boss waiting for his idiot nephew to run an errand.

“Are you staying put?” I asked.