Am I not good enough for you?” she seethes, propping herself up on her elbows. Her hair is all mussed and her face is bright red. Despite her anger, I love that I’m the reason she’s all worked up. She’s hot and bothered because of me, not that guy who was hugging her in the bar. Her legs tangle with mine as she tries to get out from under me, and that alone is driving me insane. How the fuck am I supposed to maintain control when she’s doing shit like that to me?
“Just drive.” I’m used to ordering people around, and I automatically revert back to command mode. I want to show her how much I want her, but it’s too dangerous. We’ll get caught, and I don’t want to expose her. She’s my little secret and she’s going to stay that way.
Just then, the front door of the restaurant flies open with a thud as Keith starts shouting my name. The distraught waitress is standing behind him, looking chastised as she plays with the straps of her apron. “Chase, where you at? Luanne has something she’d like to say to you.”
“Get down!” She yanks my shirt. I kind of like how she’s telling me what to do as I bend over, hiding myself from view.
“Chase!” Keith keeps yelling, his voice getting louder. “Chase, is that you in there?”
“Shit. Is he walking toward the truck?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “But I don’t think he saw you.”
“Then floor it.” My eyes twinkle up at her as she tucks her hair nervously behind her ears. She looks so cute when she’s worried.
“You got it,” she says, shifting into drive and hitting the gas. The truck’s tires squeal as she swerves to avoid Keith, who’s now screaming obscenities at her. She flies past him in a blur as Luanne jumps back with a yelp. This girl is badass. I like the way she rolls.
“You stupid bitch!” I hear Keith roar. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She gives him the middle finger and keeps going.
“You better run because I’m calling the cops on your ass!” That’s the last thing I hear Keith say as the mob of fans waiting underneath Buster the crab’s illuminated claws descends upon us, no doubt drawn toward all of the commotion.
“Here. Throw this over your head.” She fumbles behind her, pulling a hoodie out of the back and tossing it at me.
She doesn’t even put her foot on the brake. I grit my teeth as she plows right through the crowd. Fists thump against the side of the truck, but I don’t think she actually hits anyone. I hear startled voices above me, but thankfully no one notices me crouched on the floor, even as some of them get pretty close to the window.
“He’s not even in there!” a woman whines. “I saw that girl in the bar. She must be a decoy. He’s probably slipping out the back. C’mon, maybe we can still catch him!”
She breathes a sigh of relief as they change direction, creating an opening for her to drive through. She guns the engine, retaking the road and flying around a corner.
“Hey, you never told me your name.” My knee is killing me from being bent in this cramped position, but it’ll be worth the extra therapy session I’ll have to do tomorrow.
“It’s Grey. Grey Kelleher. But don’t bother me now. I have to concentrate on my driving.”
I’m at the same level as her bare legs, and her shorts are high up on her thighs. I try not to look, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. She’s driving with both feet, one hovering over the brake, the other on the gas. I’ve never seen anyone drive like that before.
Shadows are whizzing by, reminding me just how fast she’s going. “You can probably slow down now,” I mutter from underneath her hoodie. It’s soft and feels lived in. But best of all, it smells like her. As I pull it off my head, I try not to notice the Kings logo on the front. Most girls aren’t into sports. I don’t want to get my hopes up that she might actually know a thing or two about the game.
“You think?” she asks, turning her
“Just drive.” I’m used to ordering people around, and I automatically revert back to command mode. I want to show her how much I want her, but it’s too dangerous. We’ll get caught, and I don’t want to expose her. She’s my little secret and she’s going to stay that way.
Just then, the front door of the restaurant flies open with a thud as Keith starts shouting my name. The distraught waitress is standing behind him, looking chastised as she plays with the straps of her apron. “Chase, where you at? Luanne has something she’d like to say to you.”
“Get down!” She yanks my shirt. I kind of like how she’s telling me what to do as I bend over, hiding myself from view.
“Chase!” Keith keeps yelling, his voice getting louder. “Chase, is that you in there?”
“Shit. Is he walking toward the truck?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “But I don’t think he saw you.”
“Then floor it.” My eyes twinkle up at her as she tucks her hair nervously behind her ears. She looks so cute when she’s worried.
“You got it,” she says, shifting into drive and hitting the gas. The truck’s tires squeal as she swerves to avoid Keith, who’s now screaming obscenities at her. She flies past him in a blur as Luanne jumps back with a yelp. This girl is badass. I like the way she rolls.
“You stupid bitch!” I hear Keith roar. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She gives him the middle finger and keeps going.
“You better run because I’m calling the cops on your ass!” That’s the last thing I hear Keith say as the mob of fans waiting underneath Buster the crab’s illuminated claws descends upon us, no doubt drawn toward all of the commotion.
“Here. Throw this over your head.” She fumbles behind her, pulling a hoodie out of the back and tossing it at me.
She doesn’t even put her foot on the brake. I grit my teeth as she plows right through the crowd. Fists thump against the side of the truck, but I don’t think she actually hits anyone. I hear startled voices above me, but thankfully no one notices me crouched on the floor, even as some of them get pretty close to the window.
“He’s not even in there!” a woman whines. “I saw that girl in the bar. She must be a decoy. He’s probably slipping out the back. C’mon, maybe we can still catch him!”
She breathes a sigh of relief as they change direction, creating an opening for her to drive through. She guns the engine, retaking the road and flying around a corner.
“Hey, you never told me your name.” My knee is killing me from being bent in this cramped position, but it’ll be worth the extra therapy session I’ll have to do tomorrow.
“It’s Grey. Grey Kelleher. But don’t bother me now. I have to concentrate on my driving.”
I’m at the same level as her bare legs, and her shorts are high up on her thighs. I try not to look, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. She’s driving with both feet, one hovering over the brake, the other on the gas. I’ve never seen anyone drive like that before.
Shadows are whizzing by, reminding me just how fast she’s going. “You can probably slow down now,” I mutter from underneath her hoodie. It’s soft and feels lived in. But best of all, it smells like her. As I pull it off my head, I try not to notice the Kings logo on the front. Most girls aren’t into sports. I don’t want to get my hopes up that she might actually know a thing or two about the game.
“You think?” she asks, turning her
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