Ugh. How could he know me so well?
“Uhmmm.” I bit my lip.
What should I say? What should I do?
This was unprecedented. I’d never had a guy go from enemy to ghost guyfriend to ghost boyfriend before.
It was a weird progression.
Besides, did Jack evenwantto be my boyfriend? He hadn’t indicated his feelings one way or another with me. But . . . perhaps I could use this as practice. I could try to not be obnoxious and psycho with Jack.
In a bid to be less controlling, I changed the subject. “Let’s talk about you, Jack. Tell me about your family growing up.”
The rain eased slightly, going from downpour to simply drizzly. Which was a good thing, as I sneaked up on another slow moving semi.
I glanced into my rearview mirror, trying to gauge Jack’s emotional state. He arched an eyebrow at me, clearly not buying my change in topic.
I wasn’t ready for a serious conversation about us. I didn’t think I wouldeverbe ready for that conversation. It wouldn’t end well.
So avoidance was my only hope.
Jack’s expression said he saw what I was doing, but he would let it go for now.
A fast moving car swooped in behind us, tailgating me so closely I couldn’t see its fender.
Why were Italian drivers like this sometimes? So uber-aggressive? I couldn’t help the fact that the semi in front of me was going slowly.
I slid toward the middle of the road, trying to gauge if there was a break in oncoming traffic so I could pass the truck.
Nope. Just a string of cars coming at me. Mr. Antsy-Pants behind me would just have to wait.
“C’mon, Jack.” I encouraged. “Less thinking, more spilling the beans about your childhood fears—”
Thunk!
My MINI Cooper lurched forward.
What the hell?!
“What happened?” Jack sat upright, nearly sending his head through the roof.
I stared into the rearview mirror. “I think the car behind us just tapped my bumper!”
He turned around. And promptly swore.
“Get down!” he yelled. “The passenger has a gun pointed this way.”
Crap!
I ducked my head, peering at the road through the steering wheel.
Crack!A bullet hit the back of the car.
“Is it the Tempeste?” Jack asked, voice surprisingly calm.
“I don’t know. It could just as easily be a bad case of road rage.”
I swung out from behind the big truck, trying to see a break in traffic.
