Page 73 of Red Flag, Green Light

“Flag Day…?” she murmurs.

“Most romantic holiday of the year,” I say, with an amount of flittery confidence, which broaches no question. “It’ll be an excellent marketing and networking opportunity. Food, rides, live entertainment. Also, there will be an opportunity to sponsor a bikeathon for charity.”

“My. That sounds lovely.” She meets my eyes. “Consider us on board.”

It takes everything in me not to trudge from the establishment’s doors out toward Mars, who’s leaning against his Honda Civic, ankles crossed, cards in hand. He catches sight of me and stops shuffling. “Did things go well?”

I heave a breath. “The fact you drive aHonda Civicis ruining my life.”

Above his nonplussed smile, his brows lurch.

“You need a sports car, a motorcycle. You already have the leather jacket. Please, can’t you commit to the bad boy archetype a little more faithfully?”

“I assure you, madam, I commit to it quite faithfully.”

“Honda. Civic,” I remind him, because it seems he’s forgotten that he owns probably the leastbadcar in the entire universe.

Explaining nothing, he says, “Ialwaysdrink milk with my carrot cake. And Jove and I? We call each other babe. Frequently, even.”

I stare at a man, who has perhaps listed two of the leastbad-boy things I have ever heard, and assess my life choices. Conclusively, I decide it does not matter. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go home and sleep for the next sixteen hours.”

“Pity. I was planning to take you out tonight.”

“There are few things I hate more than what you just said. My stomach hurts, and I never want to talk to another person again. It took me several days to build up the nerve to go in there by myself after you told me you couldn’t show your face to that lady. The last thing I want to do is gosomewhere else.” A shaking breath fills me, and I think I’m still carrying the residue of that woman’s emotions, because my eyes tear up. “Take mehome. Now. Pin me to something. Kiss me until my brain turns into soup. Please.”

He accordions his cards, then drops them in his pocket. “Let’s hear that one more time…” he murmurs.

“Please,” I whisper.

Pushing off his car, Mars catches my chin and kisses my nose. “I’m proud of you.”

My knotted stomach flutters, which doesn’t really help the nausea, but it does do things to my chest.

“You’re doing such a good job.” He catches a lone tear when it breaks free after I blink. “It must be torture, talking to all these strangers…but I love the way it breaks you…and sends you begging back to me.” His lips spread, slowly curling. “If only I had mercy to spare you from the suffering. If only it weren’t so…fun.”

Heat floods, unwinding knots, and I dissolve into Mars’s arms.

He holds me, running his fingers through my hair. Soothing, he murmurs, “What do you say when someone compliments you?”

I sniffle. “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” His lips graze the crown of my head. “I really doappreciate you, Ceres.”

“Don’t ruin this, villain.”

His laugh dances against my scalp. “Sorry. Toxic. I forgot. Come on. Let’s go before Mrs. Beverly realizes she’s been conned into helping out a Rogue.” He opens the passenger side door for me, then slips around the hood to reach the driver side.

After getting settled, I ask, “What happened between you two?”

“Would you believe that she’s an old flame?” He pulls on his seatbelt.

“No.”

“Darn. Well. Let’s just say the woman recently lost a shed because she made a mistake that negatively impacted me last carrot season. Jove doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing.”

I watch him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Yes, little goddess?” he prompts.

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