Page 60 of American Hellhound
Fourteen
Then
He was an idiot. He was the biggest idiot alive. Sell her a car? Who was he kidding. He’d charged across that street because he’d seen her with her not-boyfriend and every masculine, jealous, stupid part of him hadsnarled.
And now he was letting her skip out on some sort of after-school activity he didn’t fully understand so he could take her over and show her the car. Thank God he’d moved it to his building and he didn’t have to take her to the clubhouse. He wasn’tthatstupid, at least.
“So who was he, if he wasn’t your boyfriend?” he asked now as they headed down the sidewalk together. He had his hands in his pockets, and forced himself not to turn his head and watch the breeze play with her glorious hair.
“Ugh,” she said. “That was Vince. We go to school together and he likes me. Or, at least, that’s the impression I get. Who knows. He’s always sucking up to my parents and telling me I ought to listen to them more.”
“Now that’s a kid who doesn’t want to get laid anytime soon.”
He was surprised, and gratified, to feel the sharp point of her elbow dig into his ribs.
“Vince isn’t like that. He isn’t some old horndog likeyou.”
“So you’re defending him?”
“No.” When he risked a glance, he saw that she was scowling down at the sidewalk. “He’s not a bad guy, he just…I just don’t want that.”
“An inexperienced idiot?” he guessed.
“Someone else trying to control me.” She slowed down, hugging herself tightly. Ghost didn’t think it had anything to do with the air temperature.
He stopped, turning toward her, and she mirrored him, tilting in so they faced one another. Her head lifted, and her eyes pleaded for understanding. “My mom’s a tyrant. She’s always talking about me getting married. Married to the right kind of man. And she’s always throwing clammy-handed cotillion escorts and suck-ups like Vince at me. I’ve been trapped for sixteen years, and she’s trying to make sure I’m trapped for life. I just…I can’tdo thisanymore.” She bit down on her lip, hard, expression raw with emotion.
“Shit,” Ghost muttered. “Don’t cry.”
“I’mnot.” But she blinked a few times.
They didn’t have anything in common, and they came from different worlds, but he thought he understood her. His life hadn’t felt like his own in a long time. Between losing Mama and Cal, and Dad’s unwieldy Scotch-pouring fists, Liv, the Army, and the club…when had he ever steered his own course?
“Hey,” he said, and laid what he hoped felt like a brotherly hand on her shoulder. She blinked some more before she finally met his gaze. “Let’s go check out that car, huh?”
“I can’t afford it.”
He smiled at her. “I bet you’d be surprised.”
~*~
It was the shiniest thing in his building’s parking lot. She couldn’t believe someone hadn’t stripped it yet, given this neighborhood.
Clean, sparkly black with dual white stripes down the center, the Monte Carlo was the antithesis of her mom’s Mercedes.
Shelovedit.
“Iloveit,” she breathed, gliding a palm along the roof. She turned to face Ghost who watched her from a distance, arms folded across his chest in a self-satisfied way. “Where did you find it?”
He shrugged. “Guy let me have it.”
Shady. She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Is this a drug payment car?”
“No. Hey – it’s not,” he insisted when she continued to stare. “It wasn’t in great shape, and he wanted to unload it.”
“Wait.” Her stomach felt fluttery. “You fixed it up? What was wrong with it?”
Another shrug, this one uncomfortable-looking. “Little transmission work. Tires. Paint. Not much.”
