Page 94 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
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Zavier came backas I was mid-phone call with Lysa, setting up a coffee date so I could meet her to ask about ghosts.
I glanced at the time on my phone before I said, “I could maybe meet in like an hour—”
“Nope! No meeting anyone in an hour. We have a date!” he declared.
“Is that your old lady?” Lysa’s amusement was obvious even through the phone.
Zavier put his mouth on my neck and gently ran his lips up and down over my pulse. “Move it to tomorrow,” he ordered.
“Sorry, Lysa, his lips are very persuasive. Can we meet in the morning?”
She laughed. “Fine. But I’ll ask for details.”
Zavier reached for the phone and hung it up for me.
He turned to Malcolm. “We’ll be gone for a while. Don’t come looking for us.”
Malcolm just waved us off as he flipped through his notebook, poring back over the limited knowledge we’d drizzled on the pages.
I followed Z up the little creek bank and onto the asphalt path. “Where are we going? And isn’t it my job to seduce you?”
He waved a hand lazily in the air. “Potato, po-tah-to,” he used the various pronunciations. He led me to a split in the path and took the right fork. As soon as he did, he got a little jump in his step. My Firefly was excited. “Now, this first bit is a fancy schmancy carriage ride. You’re going to have to pretend you’re wearing a fur coat and have roses in your lap and champagne in your hand because Gray took all the damn disposable wands in the car so I couldn’t whip up any spells.”
I giggled, because Z’s smile was as wide as it could possibly get. He led me past some bathrooms and over to … a ride for toddlers. There were metallic little ponies, not more than two feet tall, pulling tiny wagons in a circle around a giant motor that had been covered and decorated to look like the prairie.
“Take a seat and hold onto your bonnet! It’s gonna get wild up in here!” Z chortled.
He helped me step into a wagon, which barely fit my hips. My knees were squished up against my chest and I couldn’t help shaking my head, even as I grinned. Zavier’s boyish enthusiasm was contagious.
“One moment madam,” he said, as he ran over to the controls. A second later, with a giant screech, the ride began to move. Slowly. As in, maybe two halting miles per hour. I probably would have lost a race with a snail.
“Hmm…” Z said, walking back over to me. “It went much faster earlier when I tested it.”
“I think I’m a little over the weight limit.”
Z circled behind my wagon and started to push. The ride moved faster. He pushed harder. It went faster. He ran. And then I felt like I was on one of those merry-go-rounds at the park that can make kids sick with dizziness.
“Whoa!” I finally declared.
Z slowed to a stop, and he was panting a little when he helped me out of the still-moving ride.
“My horse was a little unruly,” I beamed up at Zavier.
“Uh-oh. Maybe he’ll have to be whipped later.” His eyes took on a naughty glint.
“Maybe,” I kept up his playful banter. “He’s got to realize, noteverythingis a race to the finish line.”
“Hmmm. He might need some retraining then. Maybe a harness.”
“A crop?” I suggested.
“A bit.”
“A tail?” I started to grab my ribs even as Zavier scrunched his nose. “Okay, you just made it icky.”
I laughed and kissed his mouth. “I’ll let you make me icky later.”
