Page 7 of Friends Don't Kiss

I shut the hood, round the car, and lean on her open door. “It’s probably the starter motor. You going somewhere?” Her coat is now open on the sides, revealing that she’s all dressed up.

“My gram’s birthday party. Shiiiit.” She glances at her phone and swiftly turns it upside down. “I’m so fucked.” She closes her eyes briefly, then rubs her forehead and sets her light gray eyes on me. “You have a car I can borrow? Like, a loaner?”

Yeah, I do have that.But…“Where you going?”

“Granby. Thereabouts. Why?”

“I’m going that way too. I’ll drive you.”

She shakes her head. “That’s… far, and I need to stay at the party and then come back. I’ll—can I just borrow your loaner?”

“Someone else has it,” I lie. Am I trying to get out of my date?

Maybe.

She narrows her eyes on me. “Where areyougoing?” She does a quick eye-sweep of my clothes.

I push off the car. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait! I have a cake and stuff.”

I shrug. “Kay. I’ll get the truck started.” I pull out my phone to check the address for my date. Huh. It’s actually not too far from Granby. Perfect. This will work itself out.

I hop in the truck, start the engine, crank the heat up, rub my hands. Where the hell is Kiara?

Glancing toward her car, I see a huge, pink box wobbling its way through the snow, seemingly balanced on a pair of sexy legs, teetering as accumulated snow gets in her way.

I jump out of the truck to grab the cake, but she tightens her grip.

“Open the door for me,” she snaps.

Then, huffing, she adds. “Please.”

I dart to the truck’s side door, yank it open, and clear a space on the back seat. Once she’s set the box down, she rushes back to her car, emerging with another stack of boxes.

“How many you got in there?” I call out.

“Just five more. And my bag.”

Holy shit. I jog over to her car to grab the rest.

It takes us a solid minute to get the cakes secure in the back seat. When I slide behind the wheel, I lower the heat and take off carefully.

After a couple of turns (and a quick check that the boxes aren’t shifting), Kiara turns her attention to me.

“Whatup, penguin?” she asks.

“Goin’ on a date,” I grunt.

She makes a sound somewhere between interest and amusement. “I can tell. She a keeper?”

“Nope.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I dunno yet, never met her, but I’m not keeping anyone around.”

“She the country club type?”

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