Page 104 of The Love Operation

I squint as I get closer to my car. That is one humongous Snickers bar sitting on the hood.

And then . . . the Snickers bar lifts a brown paper sack that’s patchy with grease spots.

“I brought you your grease,” it says.

Chapter 26

The Scar Tissue Between Us

“You lied,” I say.

A crease forms between his brows. “I did?”

“You are not a Snickers.”

He chuckles, then lifts a small white plastic bag from my hood and shakes it. “And if you’re so offended by the burgers and fries, I’ll take them.”

I lunge forward in a move that is neither graceful nor attractive, snatch the greasy sack, clutch it to my chest, and growl, “Don’t even think about it.”

He should be scared. I’m too hungry. He could absolutely pull back a nub. But he’s smiling.

“I’m almost afraid to say this, but I did get myself a burger too. It’s in there.”

I narrow my eyes. “I guess I could share.”

“You’re so gracious.”

“I know. Now hand over that other bag. I’ll dump the Snickers out and slide your burger in so you can take it. This will also prove you didn’t lie about the candy bar.”

“Because it might be a trap?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you nip some patient meds on your way out?”

“If you could see my stomach right now, you wouldn’t be questioning my behavior.”

“I was kind of hoping we could eat together. Make up for missing dinner.” He pauses. “Or at least witness each other’s descent into primal food rage.”

“I don’t think you fully understand what’s about to happen. The second I get in that car, I’m opening this bag and going full gremlin. Fifty-fifty on whether or not I remove the packaging first. It won’t be pretty. Might not even be human. And there’s a good chance that after watching me eat, you’ll lose your own appetite.” I reconsider. “Actually, that would leave your meal up for grabs.”

He full-on laughs this time, but naively says, “I’ll take my chances.” Then he gestures toward my car.

“You want to ‘eat’ in my car with me?” I confirm.

“Uhh. Not sure why you’re using air quotes, but yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

I sigh dramatically, giving him a final look of pity. “You’ve been warned. Whatever happens next is on you.”

“I’ve signed the waiver. Back seat?”

“No. I need the console between us.”

“Because you want to be civilized and use it as a table? Or are you trying to protect me from your savage eating?”

“Neither. Once I eat, I’ll no longer be hungry, but I’ll still be tired. And you’ll have fed me, so I’ll need a buffer.”

His brows lift again. “Are you saying you might not be able to keep your hands off me?”

“I’m saying you have three seconds to get in my car if you want even half a shot at your own food. The front. Or you can sit in the back. That part doesn’t matter.”

And then we’re in. I don’t think about how enclosed we are. I dive into the bag.