Page 49 of Lucifer's Hounds

Mindy presses a kiss to my cheek before sending me off. I hug Leo and Carrie at the same time with a quick “Bye, y’all!”

“Bye, love,” Carrie says.

“Okay, all ready. Let’s roll.”

“After you,” he says, holding the door open for me. I climb into the driver’s side of Betty. This is going to be great. Six-foot-two Scott is about to try and condense himself down to get into my low car. I laugh as he climbs in.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” I say. “So where are we going?”

“Just drive to the Taco Bell, then we’ll go from there.” He slaps his hands on his knees, which are bent against the dashboard.

“All right, all right. No need to get hostile,” I giggle.

“Not hostile.”

“Hey Scott?”

“Yes,” he answers.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Am I just a pin cushion for Cass?” I ask. For some reason it just dawned on me that maybe he isn’t serious about what he said. Maybe Iamjust a pin cushion.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I really don’t know. My brother and I haven’t talked much about it. He’s been so busy with this new bar and working his other job that I haven’t asked.”

“Well, why is he keeping a guard dog on me? No offense.” I roll my eyes at my own words. “Not that I consider you a guard dog, I just feel like he’s making sure someone is always with me. So, I guess my question really is, is he having you watch me because he doesn’t want anything to happen to me or is he having you watch me because he wants to make sure I’m not out fucking other people?”

Scott chuckles at my question. “Lilly, you worry too much.”

We ride the rest of the way in silence, the only noise in the background being the radio playing an old country song so low that I can’t make out what it is.

I swing Betty around the drive-thru.

“What you want?” I ask.

“Umm. Get me a bean burrito and a Mexi-melt. Oh, and a Dr. Pepper,” he says, without scanning the menu. I order our food and pull around. Scott hands me his debit card and I laugh, not taking it.

“Nope. I got it,” I say dismissively.

“No, really. Use my card.” He hands it to me again. I ignore him and pay cash for the order then pull up. Scott grumbles in the passenger seat and I snicker at him pouting. He’s probably one of the biggest people I know and to most people, he wouldcome off as intimidating or maybe even scary, and he’s sitting my car right now pouting.

“It’s not funny.” He folds his arms. I cannot contain my laughter any longer.

“Yes, it is. It’s hilarious. You’re pouting.”

He was probably trying to be serious, but the curve of a smile ruined that. The cashier hands me our food and I drive around to the parking lot.

“Here you go,” I say, handing over his food and drink as I park in a spot with a view of the highway.

“Thank you.” His expression is soft.

I would hate for him to feel like a guard dog, like this is something he had to do against his own free will. I don’t want to be categorized as some child who needs protecting and everyone ends up hating me because they’re always stuck babysitting.

“Where are we going?” I ask again. Scott shrugs his shoulders.

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