Page 25 of Dream Girl Drama

“But... really? I thought your parents were getting married. Isn’t that how you met?”

“Yes,” Sig said, emphatically. “It is.”

Mailer looked like he was doing math. “So...”

“I’m confused,” Corrigan added.

“Confused is your default,” Sig shot back, steering Chloe out of the tunnel and into the parking lot. “Let’s go.”

“I love your truck,” she whispered up at his set chin.

“Nah, they are right about this one thing. It’s time for a new one.”

“No.” She dug in her heels, literally, but he merely picked her up and kept walking. “If you try and get rid of that truck, I’m going to handcuff myself to the wheel.”

Humor was slowly drifting back into his expression. “I’d get a much higher price if you were included in the deal, dream girl. In the billions, at least...” He looked over his shoulder, presumably to make sure they weren’t being followed. Then he hefted Chloe up so the fronts of their bodies were pressed together, her toes dangling in the vicinity of his shins. “Never mind, you’re priceless,” he grumbled, rubbing their noses together. “A high enough number doesn’t exist.”

Then he set her down, grabbed her hand, and kept walking.

Chloe floated on a breeze behind him, her body twisting in the air like a windsock.

“Don’t get rid of the truck, Sig.” She tugged on his hand, giving him her most pleading look when he turned around. “You love it. You told me it made you feel free. When your mom was working late and your house felt quiet, you’d go drive around and listen to sports radio in your truck and feel less lonely. Remember? It’s part of you. It’s... freedom, you know? For youandme. Please don’t listen to those guys.”

“I want to give you nicer things, Chloe. What you’re used to.”

Neither one of them addressed the fact that giving her nice things wasn’t the traditional role of a stepsibling. Or that it was something a spouse might say. The irony went unnoticed. Or ignored, rather. “Out of everything I’ve ever had, you are the nicest.” She let those words fly right out of her, unchecked. “And the truck is part of you. Keep it.”

They were standing at the passenger-side door of said truck now, toe-to-toe.

There was something about the way Sig looked at her that said he was replaying her statement in his head on repeat. Good. Good, she was desperate and sexually frustrated today—maybe that made her too honest. And maybe it rubbed off on Sig.

Briefly, he looked back over his shoulder at the arena, turning back to face her with a locked jaw, leaning down to speak against her temple. “I’ll keep the truck as long as you never give another man your phone number. How does that sound?”

Heat slithered up her thighs. “Sig...”

“Just make the promise. Don’t think about why you shouldn’t.”

“I promise.”

His mouth dipped to her neck, exhaling against her rioting pulse. “That’s a good girl.”

Her sex flexed so dramatically; she choked on a moan.

Seconds ticked by while she reeled, and Sig visibly struggled to get himself under control.

Finally, he opened the passenger door and boosted her inside, giving her a long, starved look while he engaged her belt buckle. “Maybe we should put off the driving lesson for another day.”

Chloe closed her eyes and nodded. “Good idea.”

SIG ACCEPTED Aslap on the back from Burgess while sitting in the last row of lockers. He was taking his time getting dressed after practice, because he had an uncomfortable phone call to makeand he didn’t want to put it off any longer. And call him crazy, but there was something about the stench of freshly used hockey equipment that he found comforting.

When Sig heard the final locker slam, he rooted through his duffel bag and took out his phone, smacking it against his palm a couple of times, before hitting the third speed dial on his list, just below Chloe and Burgess.

Rosie. His mother.

It rang three times before she answered. “Hi, Sig.”

“Rosie. Hi.”

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