Page 98 of Love on the Byline

“Take her back to the house.” Bran pulled the stub out ofher bag and handed it back. “I’ll drive her car.”

“Or,” he countered. “You ride back with her, andI’ll drive her car.”

Bran gave him a look he couldn’t decipher.

“How about I drive myself?” she asked, taking the ticketback, her eyes flashing. “I’ll be fine when I get some fries or something inme. Promise.”

Ollie opened his mouth to protest, but Rory pulled up in theblack SUV and jumped out to open the door. “What happened?”

Bran snatched the ticket out of Blake’s hand. “Take thesetwo back to the house. I’ll be ten minutes behind you.”

Frowning, Rory looked at Ollie.

“Do you work for him, or do you work for me?” Bran snapped.

Rory didn’t blink. “That’s an excellent question,” he said,but opened the rear passenger door and offered his hand to Blake.

She stopped and looked at Bran. “Thanks for doing this.”

“You’re in good hands.”

“Don’t crash my car.”

He grinned. “Promise.”

Ollie was torn. He needed to get Blake home—homewasn’t the right word, but whatever. He also didn’t trust Bran to pick up thecar and not pick up anyone else.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned Bran, who’s grinturned wolfish before he chuckled.

“Relax. I’m just getting her car. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Take this.” Rory tossed him a baseball cap. “And give meyour jacket.” He handed him a hoodie.

Shrugging it on, Bran pulled the hat down and startedwalking down the alley.

Ollie sighed and gestured for Blake to get into the car. Hegot in after her and Rory closed the door.

Bran should have been his number one concern, but hecouldn’t be. Not at that moment.

Not when Blake needed him more.

“Let’s get you fed.”

Ten minutes into the drive, Blake was asleep, her headlolling against the window. Ollie couldn’t stop looking at her. At the finebones of her hands, the delicate curve of her eyebrows, or her full lips. Themore time he spent with her, the harder it was to deny the attraction. It wentfar beyond anything physical. But then, it had always been that way.

They went over a pothole that jarred the car, and she made asound of discomfort.

“That’s it,” he said to himself. He unbuckled his seatbeltand removed his jacket before unbuckling hers.

“Are we there?” she asked, half-asleep.

“Not yet. Come here.” He guided her down until her head wason his thigh. “You should have room to lie down.”

Once she curled up on the seat, he buckled her in as best hecould and draped his jacket over her.

“Thank you. I’m not sure why I’m so out of it.”

“Not eating and then drinking a couple hundred dollars’worth of champagne will do that to you.”

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