I’m kind of hoping Rooke shoves his fingers inside and hooks her like a fish.
She swallows, and when she speaks, it’s almost meekly. For Haven.
“I really, really want my car back.”
“ThenI’llfucking drive you,” Rooke growls.
“You?” Haven snorts. “In my ‘death trap?’” she air-quotes aggressively. “Puh-lease.”
“Then you’ll stay the night.”
It’s my turn to snort. “Hard pass, Rooke.”
“Then I guess you two don’t have a choice,” he murmurs, glancing at me before he heads back to his bedroom.
The drive is excruciating.
Haven called shotgun before I could protest, which means I’m stuck in the backseat of her dad’s shitty sedan, watching the back of Rooke’s head while he navigates the dark roads.
He complains the entire way.
“This clutch is a travesty.”
“The suspension is nonexistent.”
“How do you see anything through this cracked windshield?”
Haven giggles, clearly enjoying his misery.
I stay silent, staring out the window at the trees blurring past. Every time Rooke shifts gears, his shoulder moves, and I can’t stop thinking about how those shoulders felt under my hands, and how his skin tasted when I licked up his neck.
Jesus, enough!
When we reach the Airbnb, Rooke parks the car and cuts the engine. We all get out, Haven holding her hand out for the keys. Rooke drops them in her palm and wipes his hands on his sweats like they were a dead rat.
Haven opens her mouth, then closes it again, changing what she’d been going to say.
“Thank you.” It sounds like she had to drag the apology from the depths of her soul, and it fought back every inch of the way.
“Don’t mention it.”
Her brows twitch. “Seriously, I mean it. You didn’t have to…”
Pretend to be human just for us,I fill in mentally when she trails off.
“I assure you, it was the highlight of my evening,” Rooke says dryly. He holds her gaze a moment longer, and I swear I see a flash of disappointment on her face when he looks away to order an Uber on his phone.
She turns on her heel and hurries to the Airbnb, giving me a curious glance over her shoulder when I don’t immediately follow. I lift my chin at her, and she rolls her eyes, hugging herself hard against the icy night air.
Rooke lowers his phone, giving me a once-over. “Are you making sure I don’t steal her car?”
The smudges under his eyes look darker out here on the poorly lit street. Because we woke him up, or because he’s suffering withdrawal from his usual weekend debauchery?
I guess even a seasoned pro like Rooke needs to give his liver a rest every once in a while. And his fucking soul.
“I’m here to stop you if you try to come inside,” I growl.
Rooke sighs. “I’ve already ordered an Uber.” His eyes narrow. “And anyway, why on earth would I want to?—”
