Page 12 of My Ruthless Opponent

She gasps. “Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Coz don’t forget who’s driving, asshole.” She grumbles, her eyes staring straight ahead.

I laugh. “You’re clingy as fuck, Summer. Are you planning to spend even your afterlife with me?”

“You are asking for it.” She gives me a menacing grin before stepping on the gas.

My back crashes against the seat with the sudden acceleration. I shouldn’t have poked the bear. Thanks to the seatbelt, it keeps me upright.

It’s a wonder how this deathtrap can keep up with the speed.

Ignoring the rush of adrenaline that bursts through my veins, I level her with a pointed look. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Summer.”

Even if I utter the words, I can’t ignore the spurt of thrill in me.

I’m pulled back to the times when we used to do things like this for cheap thrills.

She takes a sharp left onto Santa Monica Boulevard and I know exactly where she is heading.

“From where I am seeing, you still are a teen with all the rings on your fingers and that stupid dangly chain around your neck. Don’t get me started on the leather jacket.” She snorts.

Now it’s my turn to scowl. “Says the woman who dresses like a wardrobe just swallowed a variety of clothes and vomited all over her.”

I gesture to her red thigh-high skirt and green button-down shirt which is untucked, her feet flaunting black boots. The color scheme of her outfit is beyond my understanding.

“You are an asshole!”

“So are you, my friend.”

We keep staring ahead for a second or two before bursting into laughter.

“Now, slow down if you want to go to your favorite steakhouse.” I raise an eyebrow at her profile.

She glances at me for a second with a challenging look. “Youwilltake me there regardless of me slowing down, mister.”

With that, she begins racing to the steakhouse in West Hollywood.

I shake my head at her when she begins giggling.

We are lucky there’s not much rush in this route. We are almost there when we see a patrol car following us.

“Shit.” Summer curses as she slows down.

“Exactly. Serves me right for agreeing to you picking me up.” I should’ve brought my Harley.

“Now’s not the time to throw a fit, Raleigh.” She grumbles as she comes to a stop at the side of the road. The car eases up behind us and stops.

“I am straight up going to confess.”

“Confess what?” she turns her head toward me.

“That you kidnapped me.” I glare at her.

“I regret not throwing you out of my running car now.” She narrows her blue-green eyes.

I scoff. “You just got that idea.”

“I regret that even more.” She huffs.

I watch through the rearview mirror.

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