“I don’t mind. I know something about difficult parents.”
“It will be faster if I go by myself.” No matter how curious I am about the story lurking in his words, taking a personal interest in Wes isn’t part of the plan. Besides, I have a Band-Aid to rip off. “Have you seen the morning refresh?”
He hesitates like he’s going to argue some more about my mom, but he must change his mind. “Yeah. Of course it’s going off when we’re stuck here.”
“We don’t have to be. Stuck here, I mean.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and finally sneak a glance at his face. His eyes are concealed behind sunglasses, but the tense line of his jaw isn’t. In his lap, he’s toying with his phone, big hands flipping it over and over.
“Youdon’t have to be.” Wes turns back to the passenger window. “I can grab a hotel and wait for the glass to come in.”
“Like you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I got the winning shot off this storm.” I expect a reaction. Wes just shrugs. It’s the nonchalance more than anything that pushes the words out of my mouth. “We could go together. I mean, my car, my rules, so none of your usual Wild Wes shit.”
I swear he flinches at his nickname, but when Wes turns back toward me, he’s grinning like he’s just been handed the keys to the kingdom.
“You want to team up?”
“Wantis a strong word,” I grumble. I’m careful. He’s reckless. Chasing together probably won’t go well, and yet here I am, making the offer anyway. “What Iwantis to beat you fair and square.”
It’s the truth, but deep down, some part of me likes the idea of not chasing by myself this season. I spend so much of my life alone. It wouldn’t be awful to have company—even if that companyisWes.
“I’ll enjoy watching you try.” His eyes dip to the neckline of my dress before darting back up. “You could bring that dress along.”
I scowl, tugging on the bodice where it’s slid down to reveal a little too much of my chest. “What is it with you and the dress nonsense?”
“It’s a compliment, Sloane. Normal people say thank you.” His overly casual tone does nothing to dim the devilish gleam in his eyes. “In fact, I was thinking—”
“That must have hurt.”
“Oh, c’mon, you can do better than that.”
Luckily my driveway is just ahead, sparing me from having to answer. “This shouldn’t take more than an hour,” I say, determined to avoid any further conversation about the damn dress. I pull my keys out of the ignition long enough to separate the front door key from the rest. “Donotgo snooping through my things. You can tell me what you want to do after I deal with my mom.”
Wes takes the key with an odd expression, his eyes darting between me and the house. “I don’t need to think about it. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”
“Great. I’ll get this over with, and then we can head south.”
He hesitates, and then asks, “Do you need to check with your brother about storing my ride?”
“I’ll tell Eric to leave it in my driveway when he’s done. He’s got a key to my house, so he can leave your keys inside. Ifyou come back to get it without me, I can have him or my other brother stop by.”
“There’s another one of you?”
“Yeah. Sam is a lawyer, or at least he will be. My brothers are very different people.”
“A lawyer, a car mechanic, and a wedding photographer. You must have some interesting conversations at the holidays,” Wes says with a chuckle.
I force a tight smile. “Oh yeah.” I barely keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Holidays are definitely interesting.”
Interesting is one way to describe the scene that usually unfolds after my mom drinks too much and descends into a crying jag that can last for days, but there’s a better chance that I’ll get hit by lightning than tell Wes that.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“Yep.” I pointedly shove my keys back into the ignition and restart the engine. Mom is sure to be insufferable enough knowing I brought a guy to Eric’s garage, thanks to my snitch of a brother. I don’t want to find out what kind of stunt she might pull if she actually meets Wes. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”
Wes takes the hint and gets out of the car, though he doesn’t immediately go into the house. Instead he stands in the driveway with his hands jammed in his pockets and watches me leave.
Ignoring an inexplicable trickle of guilt at the sight of him alone in my driveway, I head for my mom’s and brace myself for whatever emergency could possibly apply to a lamp.
Chapter Six
