“Come on,” she urges, firmer this time. “It’s obvious you’re cold.”
Am I?
Why? Because the Man of Steel’s nipples could cut glass.
Resolved to get this over with, I slide in beside her.
I will not embarrass the charity.
I will behave like a rational adult.
If she says her favorite movie is Misery, I’m out.
Drop and roll from a moving car? Not a problem.
I have three kids who routinely use my body as a crash test dummy and dragged me to twelve escape rooms in a single month.
Trust me, I’m fucking ready.
CHAPTER 19
Harrison
Bernadette leans forward and hands the driver a slip of paper. “Here’s the address, dear. Off we go.”
He gives a stiff nod, puts the car in drive, and pulls away from the curb.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, aiming for casual.
I miss by a mile.
“It’s a surprise.”
She pats my knee.
My balls shrivel into my chest.
We drive for twenty minutes.
Left turn.
Right turn.
Left again.
At this point, we’re basically carving crop circles into the city.
“I’m pretty sure we just passed that same gas station twice,” I offer.
He ignores me.
The lack of a GPS isn’t exactly comforting.
I am about three seconds from lunging forward and taking the wheel when the car slows and pulls to the curb.
Bernadette sings. “Here we are.”
I look out the window. “Where?”
