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And then with her gone, no longer driving the car, it just kisses our fender before starting to roll backward.
Toward Max, who is lying on the road, trying to get to his feet.
Finally, the seatbelt lets me loose and I throw open the door, scrambling to get to him before he gets run over.
“Max! Move!” I yell, running as fast as I can as the Kia starts picking up speed on its roll backward down the hill. I run for the door, throwing it open and jumping inside the car, nearly cutting myself on the sword as my feet try to find the brakes, knowing this thing is about to run him over.
I manage to find the brake and the hand brake at the same time, slamming down on one while I yank up the other, the wheels grinding to a halt, locking, sliding down along the gravel until it stops with a bump.
Fuck!
I get out of the car, my heart in my throat, running and slipping on the gravel to the back of the Kia, to see Max on his knees, his shoulder pressed up against the trunk.
“Max!” I drop to my knees, ignoring the rocks cutting into my leggings, putting my hands on his shoulder, on his face. I can barely see him in the shadows. “Are you okay?”
He nods, licking his lips. “I’m fine.” He pulls away from the car and holds his shoulder that was pressed against the back. “Might have a sore shoulder tomorrow. Nothing some Advil won’t fix.”
“Jesus, you’re insane,” I tell him. “You almost got run over by a car. Twice.”
He gives me a strained smile. “Good thing I have you around.” He groans as he tries to get to his feet and I put my hand under his arm to help, even though I know I’m pretty useless when it comes to hauling him around. I’m strong but not that strong.
We both get up and he shakes out his shoulder, walking up the hill to peer in the Kia. He shakes his head and then reaches in, taking back his sword. “Knew this would come in handy,” he says, raising it up in the headlights, flipping it back and forth, the blood gleaming red before turning black. Then he looks back at me. “Can’t believe you jumped into a moving car. More so the fact that you just sat down in demon ash.”
“What?” I turn around in a panic so my ass is facing the headlights, looking down to see ashes all down the back of me.
“Ew, ew!” I cry out, trying to wipe it away. I wasn’t even thinking when I jumped in there.
Max rests his sword against the hood and walks over to me. “Allow me,” he says, running his palms down my back, my ass, the back of my thighs and calves. It would feel nice if the circumstances were different. It’s been a long time since someone’s touched my ass, even in passing.
“There,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Might wanna burn those clothes though, unless you want to wear demon residue.”
“My favorite sweater,” I whine.
“I’m sure you have other options,” he says tiredly, then reaches out and grabs my hand, holding it tight. Heat travels from his palm up through mine, igniting something in my veins that makes me feel shaky. “Thank you, by the way. Not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.” He pauses, then smiles sheepishly. “Actually, I know exactly what would happen if you weren’t here. So I guess thank you for that too.”
I give his hand a squeeze right back. “You’re welcome,” I tell him, but my words come out hushed.
He keeps holding my hand, leading me back toward the car, letting go only when he goes to his side. He glances at the crack in the windshield and shakes his head. “Total horseshit,” he says. “I promised I would bring it back in one piece.”
I clear my throat, trying to get sense back into my head. Way too much just happened at once, and I’m totally discombobulated. “I’m sure you can convince the dealer to just let you keep it when you’re done.”
“Sure, but it’s the principle of the matter,” he says, walking back to the trunk and putting the sword in.
I get in the car and buckle up, taking a moment to just breathe, calm my heart, and settle whatever strange and unwanted feelings are churning away inside me.
Then Max gets behind the wheel, buckles up, and gives me the once over.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod, staring at him. In his leather jacket, one large hand on the gearshift, his wrist draped over the steering wheel, and a smudge of dirt across his strong jaw, he looks like James Dean come to life, if James Dean had dark red hair, was built like a tree, could leap straight up on top of a moving car, and plunge a sword straight down into a demon with as little effort as possible. Not to mention drive this car like he was born to do it.
