"No?"
"No. I refuse to show up to work in a hearse. We'll take a new car."
I shut off the engine and raced after Garrett as he walked to the garage. "Slow down! I'm shorter than you and wearing heels. Why are your legs so long?"
But when Garrett clicked the button to open the garage door, there were no cars left.
"What the—" He looked around. "Where are all the cars? I'm going to kill Archer."
"I can drive!" I protested. "The hearse is fine!"
"I put up with a great deal, but I refuse to ride in that monstrosity," Garrett thundered. "There are lines a man just cannot be expected to cross!"
* * *
Five minutes later,we were rumbling down Main Street into downtown Harrogate. The hardwood trees that lined the roadway sported colorful red, orange, and yellow leaves.
Garrett had sunk far down in his seat.
"Don't pout," I told him. "Think of it as a Halloween adventure. Besides, Remy said he can't get you a new car for another day or so."
Garrett growled and slumped further.
"Maybe," I giggled. "Maybe I can buy a coffin and you can hide in it while I drive you around."
"That is grossly unamusing," he snarled.
"I think it's pretty funny!" I said, snort-laughing.
"Park far, far away," Garrett told me as we pulled in to the PharmaTech parking lot.
"No way!" I told him as I parked in the CFO’s marked spot. "I'm wearing heels, remember?"
Several of Garrett's brothers were loitering under the awning to the entryway.
"When Remy said you were going to roll up in a hearse, I didn't believe him," Archer said. "Yet here you are."
"It's a bad omen," Parker replied as Garrett slunk past them. I tried and failed not to giggle.
"Hey, look on the bright side," I called after him. "You survived your first hearse ride! Not many people can say that!" Garrett's brothers roared in laughter, and I joined in. "Ah, I kill myself!"
The receptionist waved me over.
"Oh, look, Garrett, your straws are here!"
"You ordered plastic straws?" Mace asked.
"Of course! I need to make sure Garrett is well taken care of."
"Wow, Garrett, she buys you contraband straws, drives you around in the hearse, bakes cakes—you need to marry her," Archer said, throwing his arm around Garrett's shoulders.
"Since you have straws," I told Garrett, "do you want to go get your iced coffee?"
"Not if I have to ride around in that hearse."
"You'll get used to it."
"There's not even any legroom," Garrett complained as I pawed through the duffel bag stuffed full of plastic straws. "The bench doesn’t adjust."
