Page 100 of Hunted: Season Two

He was never good at being a passenger.

Even when his ass volunteered to be one, he still ended up being the main driver while I had to just go along for whatever ride and keep whoever else was around occupied while he figured out how to hotwire them out of there.

Looking back?

It probably saved my ass from more than just a few hangovers and trips to the emergency clinic due to some uncomfortable itching.

But right now?

Right now, I need him to just put his shit in park and make sure I’m not going completely off the map with these purchases.

I’ve never done anything like this.

I…honestly never saw myself doing anything like it either.

Then again, I never pictured falling in love.

Having a baby.

Family.

An actual life.

“And Val’s not giftwrapping shit either,” Garcia declares when his glare finds mine again.

“She could.”

“She won’t.”

“She might.”

“She can’t.” Amusement doesn’t hesitate to hope into his expression. “Let’s just say…there’s a reason why Santaonlybrought his shit in giftbags to the Garcia household each year. An inability to cover shit in paper, tape, and bows is hereditary.”

Rather than continue what’s clearly becoming a pointless conversation, I reach for my wallet while surrendering to the saleswoman, “Yeah. Go ahead and add giftwrapping to the bill.”

“It’ll be worth it,” he promises on a cheeky wink.

Easy for him to fucking say.

He’s never skidded away from spending this many zeroes at one time.

“In fact, letmepay for the giftwrapping,” the man who’s basically a brother to me insists to Monique. “I’ll take that andyou,” he gestures a pointed finger towards her, “to dinner tonight.”

His continued pussy trolling invites me to check my cell in hopes of finding a reason to rush this shit along.

“How do you feel about Italian?”

“I um…” the machine dinging for me to insert my card interrupts her response as well as my phone retrieval. “I love it.”

“White or red?”

“White.”

“Then I expect to seeyouinred,” Garcia arrogantly proclaims split seconds prior to an error sound blearing from the machine.

Seeing my card declined instantaneously pulls my brow tightly together. “What the fuck?”

“Problem?” He cautiously ponders while peering over.

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