Page 28 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

“I’m not crazy about the idea of being left on my date’s doorstep while she takes off with another guy.” Wyatt looks to my dad and gives a humorless laugh. “The nerve of this guy.” He looks back to Keaton and states, “Besides, Denise isn’t going.”

Keaton looks at me with a half-smirk. “Isn’t she?”

I give him a single nod and watch as his eyes brighten. I tell Wyatt, “Wyatt, I don’t appreciate you answering for me. I’m sorry for the last-minute change of plans.”

Smiling a smile that could only be described as a shit-eating grin, Keaton turns to Wyatt and says, “Real sorry, pal.”

Keaton keeps his eyes on Wyatt as he extends his hand out to me. I take his hand, and he helps me down the steps and off the porch. I apologize again to Wyatt as I walk past him. I’m not positive, but I think Keaton whispered to Wyatt that he should be worried and he’s not really sorry. Daddy rushes down the steps and stands in front of us, blocking our path.

“Denise, you don’t have to go out with him. Keaton, what’s going on?”

“It’s fine, Daddy. I misunderstood and thought it was tomorrow when we were supposed to go out. Really, it’s fine. I agreed to do it, not because he’s an overbearing idiot, but because he’s a friend.”

That seems to ease my father’s mind. I look over my shoulder to find Trent and Wyatt watching us with interest.

My heart about leaps out of my chest when I see what he drove here in. Instead of his beat-up pickup truck sits a 1969—1970 candy apple red Mustang Boss 429. I slide into the black leather interior seat and the car roars to life. As we leave my circle drive, I ask, “Is this your car?”

“Why?”

“This is a Mustang Boss 429, and it’s in exquisite condition. Is it a ’69 or ’70?”

Keaton’s lips thin as he slowly nods while gripping the steering wheel. “Suppose you can’t figure out how I’d acquire a car of this value?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, nah. It’s fine. Same way I can’t figure out how you’d know about cars. Doesn’t seem your style, Princess.”

“I just do.” I don’t want to tell him that Landon loved Mustangs. When Mom and Dad surprised him with the Jeep, he didn’t want to seem ungrateful, so he was hoping to ask for one on his eighteenth birthday. I told him just to tell them, that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Then he went into a whole spiel about how expensive classic Mustangs are. I couldn’t figure out why he wanted an old car when the new ones are just as pretty and have all the upgrades. Who doesn’t want Blue Tooth? Now riding in this car, the soft leather and vibrations from the power this car has, I get it. Landon would’ve freaked out over Keaton’s car. Before my heart can restrict anymore, I turn my voice to ice.

“Why are you toying with me? You said you weren’t coming. You didn’t even bother giving me an explanation.”

“You don’t seem too concerned about ditching that schmuck Wyatt? You didn’t even kiss him bye. I bet you’re probably a little relieved. Though, I doubt you’ll admit it.”

“You’re impossible. Forget it. Where are we going? Or are you going to tell me one place, but then go somewhere else?”

He shrugs and then turns the volume up, rock music blasting through the car. My leg flinches when I feel his warm knuckles graze my thigh as he wraps his strong hand on the gear shift. He wears a smug smirk, so I know he did it on purpose, especially when the gear shift is up so high. Despite myself, my eyes cast down to his long fingers wrapped over the head of the shifter. I squeeze my legs together as I watch him shift gears and feel the motor rev up. I look up and find his eyes on me.

“Do you want to see what she’s really capable of?” I mutely nod, and he gives me a crooked smile, before turning his eyes back on the road. He shifts again and revs the motor up even more and takes the car flying down the highway. He takes a sharp right and sends us soaring down a backroad. I grab onto the dash and a giggle escapes me. The motor is so loud now, as the car feels like it’s about to take off into the sky. The rush is crazy! I drum my hands on the dash and cheer. I look over at Keaton and he’s laughing. He shifts, and again, as he makes a hard left turn, my body sways and I laugh. I should probably be terrified, but I love it. The speed. The recklessness. This is almost like when you take that first hit from a drug. I don’t want it to end.

Keaton turns onto another road that leads back to the highway. When the car slows down and the engine is back to only purring, I tell him, “That was incredible!”

“Not gonna lie, I did not see you being into cars.”

“You still haven’t told me how you came to have this car?”

“And you still haven’t told me how you know about cars? What is it? An old boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” Of course he’d think it was a boyfriend. I’ve never really had a boyfriend. Dick. My response only makes him smile, so I turn the music back up and lean back in my seat.

He pulls into the parking lot of a steak house. I sit in my seat as he gets out of the car. Instead of opening my door, he walks into the restaurant. Ass. I debate whether I should get out of the car or just stay here. I decide to force him to come back out. I wait. And I wait. And I’m still waiting. I pull my phone out and call him. He answers on the second ring, “Hel-woe?”

“Are you eating?”

“I was under the impression that’s what we came here for. If you’re hungry too, there’s a restaurant a few feet away from you.” He ends the call.

That’s the third time that dickhead has hung up on me. I get out of the car and stomp into the restaurant. As I scan the tables for him, a very attractive young waitress comes up to me and informs me where he’s seated. Fuming, I slide into the booth across from him, and he doesn’t stop eating his salad to acknowledge me.

“You’re no gentleman.” He pauses and cocks an eyebrow at me. I continue, “you kiss me without permission. You blackmail me. You hang up on me. You’re rude. You didn’t even open my door.”

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