“There it is,” he murmurs moments later under the hood. “They yanked the coupling for your… never mind,” he says at my blank expression. “Carly’s better at politics thancars.”
He lowers the hood, wiping the rolled-up arm of his dress shirt on his forehead. “You should be fine. If it gives you any grief, let meknow.”
“Thanks.” The word sticks in my throat, and he holds my gaze for a beat,two.
I hurry to slide in through the driver’s door. When I hit the start button, the engine roars tolife.
Relief washes over me as I stuff my blazer in the back seat and unbutton my shirt another button while the A/C kicks in. Sweat beads on my chest, and I’m fastening my seatbelt when Tyler leans his muscled forearms on the driver’sdoor.
“You get slapped with community service?” He nods toward the black garbage bag on top of mybooks.
I shift my sunglasses up on my head. “Oh, I led the litter pickup for Young Environmentalists at the park last week, but no, that’s my practice costume for the musical. It has a hole in the bottom so I canwalk.”
“I see. You’ll have trouble evading hornysailors.”
“Yeah, well, Hans Christian Anderson was pre-MeToo.”
This time, Tyler’s smile is genuine. I can tell because it lands in the center of my chest like ablow.
I wish I could lick my suddenly dry lips without him taking credit forit.
He reaches into the car, and my breath hitches as he lifts his tie from around my neck, drawing it out in a longribbon.
The silk strokes my neck for what feels like minutes, and I force my gaze away when he finally pockets thetie.
My attention lands on the lone motorcycle across the parking lot. “Next time Carly gets creative with my car, I’m borrowing yourride.”
“No, you’re not.” He straightens, shoving a hand through his messy-is-sexy hair. “Jax Jamieson would destroy me for letting his baby girl nearit.”
There it is. The reason I can’t avoid Tyler completely, even I want nothing more than to cut him out of mylife.
Oakwood’s rebel prince doesn’t live in a brick mansion with a closet full of V-necks and two Ivy-League-educatedparents.
He lives in our pool house, thirty feet from mybedroom.
2
“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble.”I trip into the café, and Pen looks up from her table. “I did bring you presents, though. Check your e-reader.”
My friend grabs her tablet from her bag. “Ooh! How many books did you getme?”
“Ten? Twelve?” I laugh. “You’re going away. You’ll need some newmaterial.”
“You’re the best,” she informs me when I finish telling her about the mix of fiction and nonfiction I pickedout.
We go to the counter, and I order a pepperminttea.
“How was rehearsal?” Pen asks while wewait.
I fill my friend in on what happened with Carly, and her eyeswiden.
“The bitches tried to stop me driving away from the crime scene,” Ifinish.
“Sabotaging your ride is a new low. She’sescalating.”
I roll my eyes. “Carly can’t stand people taking things shewants.”
“It’s more than that. You’re a traitor to an income bracket,” Pen says, mock chastising. “Writing essays about how her dad and a bunch of others’ are destroying the middle class through their greedy empires and campaigning with the administration to spend our community involvement hours with actual disadvantaged people instead of working with fancy ad agencies on shiny posters for environmentalgroups.”