Page 10 of Hot Ride

I force a smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels on my face.

He studies me, his gaze piercing even in profile.

Then, with a rueful twist of his mouth, “Scarlett, if this is too weird for you, being stuck in a car with me for hours on end, I can figure something else out. Get you on a flight or?—”

“No,” I interrupt, surprising us both with my intensity. “No, it's fine. Really.”

But the weighted silence that stretches between us says otherwise. I trail off, unsure how to put the tangled mess of my feelings into words.

How do I explain that it's not him I'm afraid of, but myself?

My traitorous heart seems determined to ignore the glaring warning signs, begging me not to go down this road.

Jett is silent for a long moment, his fingers flexing. Then he sighs, a twist to his lips. “I get it. I do.”

Something in his tone, a hint of old hurts, makes me want to know more. But I don't ask because that would mean opening up in return.

So, I deflect instead, same as always. “Careful, rockstar. You're beginning to sound like a grownup.”

Jett barks out a laugh, the sound rich and warm in the confined space.

“Bite your tongue, woman. I'll have you know I plan on being an immature ass well into my golden years.”

“I don't doubt it,” I drawl.

Jett taps his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the classic rock song.

I zone out until Jett's deep voice brings me back to the present. “Remember when you put a rubber snake in Mrs. Perkins' letterbox?”

I snicker, picturing her wrinkled face contorted in horror, the snake dangling from her bony fingers.

“I thought she was going to have an aneurysm when she saw that thing.”

Jett laughs, a deep rumble in his chest.

“Remember how high-pitched her scream was when she found it? I thought dogs would come running.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Oh god.”

“She deserved it, the old battle axe. She used to yell at us for playing music too loud.”

“Yell at you for playing music too loud,” I correct, jabbing a finger into his arm. “I was an innocent bystander.”

“Innocent, my ass,” Jett scoffs. “You were such a little hellion. Who suggested we TP her house on Halloween?”

I gasp in mock outrage. “I did no such thing!”

“Liar,” Jett says, but there's no heat in it. “You bought all that toilet paper.”

“For completely unrelated reasons!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“God, we were such little shits,” I say, wiping my eyes. “No wonder our parents were constantly getting called to the neighbor's houses.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jett scoffs, but the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. “I was an angel.”

I snort indelicately. “Yeah, and I'm the freaking Pope.”

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