Page 17 of Just a Distraction

Milo

We’re in a getaway car, driving into the night, laughing like a bunch of fools.

Once Rose made sure I wasn’t injured or anything—my jaw’s sore, but I’m fine—she started laughing and hasn’t been able to stop. She has mascara running down both sides of her face. In the interest of paying attention while driving, I’m mostly keeping it together, but I can’t help laughing with her.

She reaches up and takes the big clip out of her hair and her dark locks tumble down her back. When she shakes her head and drags her fingers through a section to smooth it down, I swear she embodies every woman in every fantasy I’ve ever had.

I clear my throat and focus again on the road—and my throbbing jaw.

“So, where are we headed?” I ask when she’s managed to stop laughing.

“How should I know?” she says before giggling again. Now she’s got the hiccups.

“You jumped in my car. I thought you had an agenda.”

She gasps. “He hit you. Blaine totally punched your face!” She leans forward and grabs my chin again, turning my face to look at her.

“I gotta drive here, Rose,” I say before moving out of her grasp, unable to contain a small smile.

“Sorry.” She gulps and then hiccups again. “And sorry he hit you.”

“His was more like a little love pat. I was the one who hit him.”

She nods sagely. “Oh. Got it.” Her voice is somber before another laugh escapes. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She smacks her forehead. “Gosh, I cannot believe that just happened.”

“I’m completely fine. He had it coming. I’m not one to pick a fight but if someone hits me . . . well. I didn’t have all those older brothers for nothing.”

“Is that why you throw such an expert right hook?”

“That’s exactly why.” I lift my hand from the wheel and flex my fingers, in and out of making a fist. They’re starting to feel sore, too.

I’m driving on I-70 and have no idea why or where we’re going. All I know is I’m having way too much fun with Rose to stop now. Another thought stills my laughter. “I don’t like the idea of you going back there. When’s your next shift?”

“Monday. He’ll be calmed down by then.”

“Rose. This isn’t okay. You shouldn’t have to put up with the things he does.”

She sighs, for the first time since getting in the car, she’s serious. “I know. And it won’t be much longer. You don’t need to worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“Why do you defend him?” I don’t mean to be accusatory, and my voice is soft. But I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.

She sighs and studies her lap. “Can you just let me out, please?” she asks abruptly.

I laugh. “What if he’s following us? I can’t just let you out.”

“I’d like to get out of the car now.” She rests a hand on the door handle.

My heart rate increases as I realize I really have struck a nerve and hurt her feelings. I take the next exit and ease the car to a stop at a red light. “I’ll stop if you want me to, but I’m not going to leave you somewhere random like this.”

She just bunches her mouth tighter and stares out the window.

“I’m sorry for being so frank with you, but under the circumstances . . .” I point to my chin. “I think I have the right to be concerned for you.”

She sighs and rubs her eyes, seeming to realize for the first time that her mascara is smeared. She pulls the visor down and stares in the mirror, running her fingertips along the blackened streaks and groaning in frustration.

“You do, after being hit by him, I guess. Look, I’m sorry you got caught in the crosshairs of my employment drama. I really am. Can you please let me out so I can take an Uber to my car and go home?”

“I’m not going to let you out here. It’s past eleven. There’s no way.”

---