Page 40 of Clean Out of Luck

I jerk my head to see what’s happening, and Peyton’s lips land on my cheek with a loud smacking sound.

We both step back quickly. “Oops, sorry, the car scared me,” I try to explain. Hoping he won’t look too closely at the 4Runner parked across the street that honked at us.

Wade.

Peyton blushes. “Thank you for the date. I hope we can go out again.” And then he climbs into his car and drives away.

I look both ways before marching across the street to knock on Wade’s driver’s-side window. He rolls the window down a few inches to where I can only see his eyes and the top of his head. “Yes?” His tone is innocent, but I know better. He’s leaving his tinted window up so I can’t see his laughing face.

“You honked at us.” I tap the window with my index finger.

I can hear a soft chuckle even over the sound of the engine. “It was an accident!”

I mutter under my breath and march around to the passenger side. I’m willing to get into a car again, and it’s because I’m fueled by rage.

I climb into the passenger seat and turn to look at Wade. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but I can see the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I hope you know the restraint I’m using right now.”

“Oh, really?” he says as he turns to lean an elbow on the middle console. He leans toward me and waggles his eyebrows. “And what would you do to get even?”

I reach up and run my fingers rapidly up and down the side of his neck. He slams back into his seat with a shriek. “Dang it, Scarlett! You know my neck is ticklish.”

I smile sweetly at him. “Serves you right. Now you can drive me home.”

He chuckles and turns the music on.He’s got a goofy grin as he starts to turn onto the same street as The Serendipity.

When a car speeds by us where they shouldn’t be passing, I let out a soft gasp and instinctively reach for Wade’s hand.

Wade slams on his brakes and avoids the car with ease. He turns his hand over, grasping mine and then using it as hispersonal microphone while singing “Espresso” in a falsetto voice. Completely ignoring the fact someone almost hit us.

He winks at me and continues singing until I’m crying with laughter. Each squeeze of his hand on mine reminding me that we’re okay.

By the time he drops me off at home, I’ve forgotten about my frustration, and thinking that I was more relaxed in that car with Wade than I was on my date.

Chapter Thirteen

Wade

I don’t knowhow long I can pretend.

It’s been three days since I saw Scarlett, and I can remember every little touch we had that night. Which is just wrong because we’re not dating. She’s not interested in me. She looks at me like I’m just a big brother. She hugged me because I was being kind. She clutched my hand in the car because she was nervous, so I pretended her hand was a microphone to distract her from bad drivers.

All of these things are easily explained away.

Except they’re all replaying in my mind over and over and over again. It’s like a highlights reel but without the peppy music.

She has sent an emoji every single day. And the way that I have started to look forward to that little gesture is a little embarrassing. That one little text is making my day.

Today, I have to go to court.

I’m testifying in an open insurance case about a house fire that occurred seven months ago. Because I was one of the responding firefighters, they asked me to testify. It’s simply one of those cases where the insurance company doesn’t wantto pay out and is hoping to find fault. I get to give a simple testimony stating what we encountered in the fire. It should be rather low-key.

I get dressed in a pair of slacks and a collared shirt with a canvas jacket. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to testify in court, and it won’t be the last.This was one part of the career that I didn’t anticipate.

Then there’s the fact that I’m primping in front of my mirror because there’s a chance I might see Scarlett today. Do I put some gel in my hair and maybe a little hint of cologne on the off chance I’ll see her? I will admit my guilt to no one. Usually, I just wear my uniform from Station 7. But today, with the thought of seeing her? I want to look good.

I open the bathroom drawer and pull out the black tungsten ring I bought three years ago, after Phoenix’s birthday dinner, when he and Scarlett and Carson got into an argument about whether men should wear rings. Her words were, “There’s nothing more attractive than a man in a backwards hat and a ring on his hand.” Carson agreed—as long as it was a wedding ring. She argued back that it could be any ring.

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